In Love’s triangle, no two sides are ever equal.
If you’re going to belch, belching after eating a mango is about as good as it gets.
As inspired by: Jo's Math Phobic
In the algebra of love, you are my X.
When I realized I had to calculate ratios, it was the moment of radical doubt; can this really be library school?
If I made the rules, microwave popcorn would be punishable by life imprisonment.
“But I AM Henry the Eighth, I AM!” shouted the young man from the back of the patrol car.
Spring breezes plunged recklessly into the city center, where they competed to see who could puff the most linen jackets off the backs of patio chairs, or ruffle the most expensive haircuts.
I once contemplated going on a diet so that my socks would fit better.
Juan suffered a severe post-traumatic episode as he taught Juanita how to roll her socks down in preparation for ‘80s day at Juanita’s middle school.
Rena could well remember the blackened gum trees that peppered the snow covered landscape, but she suddenly realised that she could no longer recall the smell.
“Now, I just can’t be expected to get up at that time, unless I’m going fishing.”
Son, if you listen to one piece of advice from dear-old-dad, listen to this: Stay away from neurotic women.
Did someone really sit down and say, “hey, let’s make a cake by adding pumpkin puree to yellow cake mix; then make icing from butter, cream cheese and a pound of confectioners’ sugar; but before we ice those cake layers, better not forget to batter and fry them!”?
If I knew who goliard was, I would apologize directly for my un-assing him/her from Scrine’s #12 spot on El Grande Listo de los Postoleros, then I would apologize to all Spanish-speaking people everywhere for my unashamed destruction of their language in the process of apologizing to goliard.
She flew without wings, just a few frosty inches above the calm blue surface of the lake, letting her toes dangle and break the sun-speckled water for just a moment before pulling up and banking to the right, barely missing a yacht of envious tourists.
When Cosgrove’s muse took human form, she appeared slightly frumpy in her poly-blend blazers and skirts, but she could inspire three-page budget change proposals like nobody’s business.
She was an up-talker, the kind of conversationalist who made even declarative sentences sound like questions; for this reason, though she was hardly aware of it, she only attracted men who were drawn to indecisiveness.
Armed only with a ball gag, worn fuzzy handcuffs and a riding crop, the Zipper Masked Crusader snuck through the Gotham night bringing hard discipline to the cities underworld.
If you ever send me a content-free one-line response to a well thought out and complicated email and that response is anything other than, “I’m on my stupid Blackberry and will get back to you properly shortly,” I will never speak to you again, Asshole!
Finishing the last 5 pages of my script is like walking over razor blades in my barefeet - will I finish or won’t I is what we are all wondering- or maybe akin to Hercules killing the Gorgon Medusa or kicking the ass of Atlas (if he ever did that).
Lost: Reward if found and returned.
Okay, let’s just assume that every tornado ever “sounded like a train,” and let’s quit killing trees and wasting time printing that vacuous (but apparently obligatory) quote already.
I’ve been asked to write a one sentence bio, but I can’t come up with anything; Some help, please?
Dear Emerging Class of Mega-Rich: I don’t care how rich you are, or how much you love living in Manhattan; if you need this much space to be happy, maybe it’s time for you to move to the suburbs.
I love you.
By the eighth day Adam and Eve were scrapping around and Eve was nagging Adam about always leaving his fig leaf up and Adam was chastising Eve for taking too long to primp before leaving the garden of Eden to go to dinner, and God had a great big headache and needed some aspirin and a lot of caffeine; thus, on the eighth day God created Starbucks.
Days went by and her legs grew hairier and hairier.
On discovering that my rice + beans taco was unlabeled, while my pork taco was labeled “vegetarian,” I decided that the taqueria guy was either overworked, absentminded or brilliantly perverse.
As Fender’s father rose, both figuratively and literally, up the corporate ladder, his young son privately concluded a sense of humor must not be able to rise above the eighth story, and tolerance tended to drop off around the twentieth.
This is more uncomfortable than that time the door-to-door Wikipedia researcher came by the house and asked me to cross reference the leftist politics of suspected bisexual Burt Lancaster with the left-facing blowhole of the Physeter macrocephalus.
When I was five I told my mother that I didn’t want to give birth to children, only kittens; crammed into a bus filled to the brim with wet, rowdy teenagers, I realized that I would still prefer to give birth to kittens.
For my next academic paper, I do believe I’ll buck authority and cite Scrine as my main source.
There are some snippets of conversation with friends that are so freakishly weird you would just like to pretend that you never, ever heard them.
There should be a special level of Hell for people who stand you up on a Saturday night.
O metal bird of non-blinking whatnot, I’m going to use this arena as an outlet because I’m 5 days away from defending a thesis and my advisor just told me that my argument, which is soundly based on math and science, YOU JACKASS, is baseless, which is only going to make me more correct during the defense and I think she knows this because she’s remarkably intelligent and wily in that way that makes you nervous, but that’s not the point, no, the point is that I feel like the time has come to do what I’d mentioned in a recent comment and follow Mr. Mencken’s advice and ‘raise the black flag…’, even though I realize ‘mouse is a lawyer and may end up prosecuting me for what follows, but what the hell, anger with no outlet leads to reality TV and that’s totally unacceptable, so here goes…If I was the kind of 16-year old in a 35-year old’s body willing to teepee someone’s house, I’d totally do it to my advisor’s hizzy, only instead of toilet paper, I’d probably use a flame-thrower, and instead of soap, I’d probably use napalm, and oh by the way, f*ck you, Auqa Man, for never destroying Sea World and freeing your watery brethren, yes, it’s a tangent, but I figured while I was getting things off my chest, I may as well be thorough about it.
“ring ring, hello twelve-year-old, blablclinton, blablabama, demobla, alreadyvoted, yada yada anybody, on a scale of 0-ten what would i consider the best possible life for me, wait, life? best possible life? wait, how satisfied am i with my health? or my health care? how satisfied am i with my personal life?? WHO IS THIS ANYWAY???
Sweet Mother in Flats Doing a Salty Crabwise Shuffle!
While I don’t want to give up this little tug-of-war in which I’m involved, I know that continuing to tug will only leave me more broken and bloody than I currently am, similar to being told that ‘you can run, but you’ll only die tired’.
(beer.)
The kids playing outside have somehow stumbled themselves into a game of The British Are Coming, and while I’m very tempted to step outside to see if they’re observing the classic rules of play, I can’t seem to find my tricorne hat.
Nothing does your heart good like hundreds of kilometres of absolutely nothing.
“I bet you a strawberry-rhubarb pie that I find [rhubarb] at my market tomorrow,” said ‘mouse, to which Bakerina replied “you’re on;” upon reflection, though, Bakerina realized that, assuming that the loser must bake the pie for the winner, she and ‘mouse had something of a dilemma: If there is no rhubarb at ‘mouse’s market, and Bakerina wins the bet, then no strawberry-rhubarb pie will be forthcoming, since ‘mouse has no rhubarb; meanwhile, if there *is* rhubarb at the market, and ‘mouse wins the bet, he must choose between waiting until June, when both rhubarb and local strawberries will be at Bakerina’s market, or just making the damn pie himself, which violates the whole spirit of said bet.
I desperately try, often without success, to keep the number of emails in my in-box below 88.
All night long my stomach reenacted the Battle of Waterloo, that little puke Napoleon thinking he could get the best of me by disguising himself as an a hunk of unruly steak, but I held my ground, rallying the troops with will power and the promise that history would not be rewritten, and by sunrise, though weary and worn, victory was ours.
If some things aren’t hard, nothing is worthwhile.
I dreamed mirrors didn’t work any more.
Dear God, please let there be rhubarb at the market this morning because I cannot take one more weekend of storage apples.
Just one innocent little visit to goodvibrations.com and for the next several months autofill dumps you back there every time you try to get to google.
Listening to Roy Orbison sing a song written for him by Bono, Bronwyn discovered that the crack that split her heart the day Roy Orbison died hadn’t healed after all.
and then there’s the one about the parent who complained to the principal how rude it was that i would not simply drop my planned installment of a multi-part lesson—with a district deadine, to boot—and instead have the kids all make cards for (wait for it)…Teacher Appreciation Day.
“Sometimes, 20 years of marriage sounds less like a testament to love, and more like a cliché - or a prison sentence,” observed Janine, absently twisting her tight-fitting gold ring.
After spending the night in the emergency room, Vivian expected everyone she saw to suddenly break out into wails and collapse on the spot.
And I’m up while the dawn is breaking;
Even though my heart is aching,
I
should be drinking a toast
to absent friends
instead of these
comedians.
“Marriages aren’t that fragile, at least not the ones worth having.”
Inspired by the fact that the U.S. Government subsidized a study on cow flatulence and global warming, Howard proposed a study linking rednecks, beer and honky-tonks to irreversible climatic change.
The angry looking young man in the black tee shirt – I’m so goth I shit bats – handed me my lunch order with a smile that made me wonder if I had been too demanding.
so much more savory after melding a week—maybe two!—in the fridge.
My son is much too cranky about all the satellites in the sky, which, he claims, should be doing much more to help him see what he wants.
Finding a bra that fits is like voting democrat and finding out that your candidate actually won.
If I wash my hair with a shampoo made from stout, and condition it with a conditioner made from lemons, does that mean that my head is essentially a shandy?
This sentence is to celebrate Br. Ezra’s 800th, his 2300th if you count dangerous and/or illegal comma splices, sentence!
As inspired by: 'mouse's Is that a trombone or are you just happy to see me?
Dear Scrineleader: I am writing to formally complain under the anti-bullying terms of my user agreement that I, a loyal scriner and the author of three or four reasonably good sentences (if I may say so myself), have recently become the victim of bullying and abuse by several unnamed persons who a) live in glass houses and b) are not without sin.
In the timeless classic that declares how someone is killing someone else softly with their song, replace the ‘s’ with ‘th’ and I haven’t slept in a couple days so this seemed like a clever idea, but will no doubt haunt me for months, if not years to come.
Make sure you’re in a place where it’s safe to dance, because once you put on Come Home by James, you will be unable to do anything but.
Get on a train, specifically a train that you know will speed up abruptly on some leg of the trip; right before the boost in speed, start to play “Steal My Sunshine” by Len; if you time it just right, the first verse will kick in just as the train starts to move veryveryvery fast and the landscape opens up around you, and the resulting rush will feel like an adrenaline/ecstasy cocktail.
Take the 7 train to 111th Street; walk through the gritty, shiny streets of Corona to the Lemon Ice King of Corona; get the ice of your choice—no, better yet, get two so that you can have different flavors—cross the street to the little park with the bocce court; then sit on a bench, watch the old Italian guys play bocce and listen to “Was a Sunny Day” by Paul Simon.
Go for a run, anywhere you like running: the park, the beach, the dirt road that cuts through the woods, the path around the reservoir, even the treadmill (although I generally don’t recommend treadmills); cue up “One More Time” by Daft Punk and just see what happens to your stride.
Tricia’s dad thought he’d come up with an especially creative nickname, but then she decided she’d become the world’s greatest practical joker and he was, to his great frustration and embarrassment, her favorite victim.
Spring is here, really here, and this young woman’s fancy turns to thoughts of water ice (which the locals call “Italian ice,” but we shall ignore them because they are wrong).
Rock & Roll isn’t just about sex and drugs, but spandex, long hair and men in their 50’s and 60’s who are afflicted with Peter Pan Syndrome.
Just as the high fiber content of breakfast was passing through my body at Audobon speed the water in my building was shut off again for more repairs.
Walking through the Galleria Dell’Accademia, Juan pointed at the statue of David and said to Muriel, “That little thing ain’t ‘art’—I’ll show you Art, little girl!”
When the freak storm iced over the sidewalks, the men gathered outside to thaw the concrete with their salacious Springtime thoughts, which would have been fine if their wives hadn’t discovered that they were all thinking about Betty, the neighborhood’s newest resident; the icy stares of the wives quickly refroze the walks, and the men slipped, one by one, back into their houses where they landed, each and every one of them, on their backs on the sofa for one or two nights.
William was quite sure that he was not the first 13-year-old boy to have a hungry calf nearly suck the skin off a couple of offered fingers and wonder… .
As inspired by: 'mouse's On global warming and Susan Sarandon’s nipples
Although the concept of Armageddon is not generally considered an aphrodisiac and has never been known to perk up the nipples of women, you can be confident that there are men in the world who find the idea of total destruction quite arousing.
Sometimes I worry about the future of a human race where hundreds of bots are gleefully combing over, archiving and cross-referencing these silly sentences and comments for all eternity just seconds after I post them instead of doing something actually useful, but then I surf for internet porn until the feeling goes away.
Tammy didn’t understand this going green stuff too well, especially since waiting to eat the bread until it was green didn’t seem to do too much for the environment, at least as far as she could tell.
Few things could cure a bad day like a good curry rice.
origami fish
origami pufferfish
imagination.
Hmmmmmmmm, she thought as she ran her thumb across the unwaxed surface, releasing a perfume suffused with blossoms and juice.
“I think it’s very hard to be in a scene and not be upstaged by your nipples”.
If there’s anyone who doesn’t think RHPS was the best use of Susan Sarandon ever, speak now or forever hold your peace.
As inspired by: Br. Ezra's An Ironic Beating
“Lookie, here, Dickbreath,” wheezed the Homeland Security officer, gleefully plugging in his handy USB dongle and quickly transfering files to Henry’s computer, “I think I see a couple images of underage girls and at least a dozen illegal MP3 files that I’ll bet you don’t have receipts for owning—you’re gonna be someone’s bitch down at Pelican Bay for the next, oh, 99 years or so.”
As inspired by: 'mouse's gulp!
“It’s rather Ironic, don’t you think, that with all these new security measures keeping U.S. Citizens safe it is much harder for actual citizens to get back in their own damn country than the so-called evil people we are trying to keep out,” Henry testily remarked just before the customs agent beat him with his night stick.
“[R]easonable suspicion is not needed for customs officials to search a laptop or other personal electronic storage devices at the [U.S.] border.”
The yentas of Marion County attired in gaily colored dresses, large floppy hats and white shoes flitted about town like fat, middle aged butterflies landing briefly wherever the intoxicating and fragrant nectar of juicy scandal puddled at the feet of their hapless neighbors.
The planet Earth took a moment to reflect on “Earth Day”, the celebrating creatures that scurried all over its face, and the major seismic event along the California coast in store for them all.
Fender considered asking to have patchouli oil added to his father’s ashes, but he knew his siblings would be incensed.
“While you are quite cute and the attention is flattering, I don’t think I’m a wholely healthy subject for your fantasies,” Becky warned Hugh.
My personal trainer at the Y doesn’t think it’s funny when I sing loudly while lifting weights.
“Relax,” The neurosurgeon advised, “After all it’s not rocket surgery.”
Rufus thought that maybe his mom was a superhero, but my friend Schuster told him that shunning a son is not really considered a super power.
The practice of referring to a woman’s private parts as “her sex” – mostly by authors of a certain stature – is confusing when the reader finds the protagonist groping in the dark for his lover as he discovers, quite unexpectedly, that “her sex” is hard as a chestnut thus causing the reader to cross his legs instinctively in a communal metaphysical pain.
Juan worried that he was betraying his profession by exercising more and drinking less, but then he figured it was a probably just a spring thing that’d pass shortly and he’d be back to normal.
You can say, “I’m salt of the earth,” but the moment you do, you’re not, even if you are, which you’re probably not.
There was this chicken who crossed the road and, having reached the other side and seeing that people were looking at him with quizzical expressions, said, “The answer to the question is ‘free will’, you unoriginal naked apes”; the end; no moral.
In a battle between two ninjas and a puppy, the puppy might lose, but you’d better believe that he’ll take at least one if not both of the ninjas with him into death’s cold embrace, because puppies may look cute, oh sure, but it’s all a ruse to hide the fact that they’re fuzzy little killers, make no mistake.
I just found myself chairdancing to some new (to me) song I’d never heard before and discovered that the culprit was this song.
Rarely do I fish for advice, but I trust all y’all scriners to tell me if you think I should go to my 15th high school reunion.
Apparently mass quantities of bridal business and a trip to LA are enough to make a girl forget where she should be posting her adventures; where am I again?
For such a tomb-like silent department, there was a surprisingly high level of office politics going on.
Last night while I was sleeping it appears that I was elected to public office.
There has never been a more talented and capable band than the Muppet-infested Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem, because they were able to rock as hard as any band in existence, despite their butt being constantly occupied by some stranger’s hand.
Why we need a gardener for the postage-stamp-sized lawn at my apartment eludes me at the moment, though of course he might be a government agent and then it all makes sense.
While the Pope came to NYC to bring us the oh so original message of “hope and peace”, I would wait until everyone was quietly assembled and regarding me with the proper reverence before dropping to the ground and rolling while crying and screaming “We’re all gonna DIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE……we’re all gonna die” just to see the reaction.
Despite proclaiming to be a slacker, by May 14th I will have read over 800 pages of student writing.
Bakerina really exists, is quite charming, is a foodie, and she should move out here, in my humble opinion.
Not only is ‘mouse a real boy, but he can also peel oranges in moving traffic.
O lofty muse of science-related explication, slap me upside the head just once more with your sacred “Fish ‘o Clarity” that I might finish this soul-crushing tome and commence drinking to forget.
my sleeper’s gone off and i’m waking for the day every morning around 3.
In Scrube. The anti-Scrine. Periods replace commas.
You know in Pinocchio when he becomes a real boy… well, five years’ work has finally come to fruition and I can now report that Bakerina is a real girl who had coffee with me this morning.
So how many times must one drive over the hills in San Francisco before one realizes that there is in fact more road over the tipping point, and one will not just fly off the road and into space?
Is there anything more painful than the phenomenon known as the middle school dance?
Bakerina, if you’ve booked yourself into the Hotel California, someone should warn you about their quixotic check-out policy.
i just heard a bbc reader actually say the words “cricket is like a religion here in india,” and i can’t help but wonder if, there in the absolute cradle of all human religion, this doesn’t leap right over offensive, straight on ‘til blasphemy?
I just signed in to say, “be careful, don’t smell the colitas,” but then Wikipedia informed me that “colitas” are “little tails” in Spanish, which sounded like something nice to smell (’mouse is always interested in chasing/smelling tail), but then it went on to say the reference is to marijuana buds, which also sounds like a nice thing to smell, but then, having cut myself quite badly on the comma splicer that Br. Ezra left carelessly lying around, I had to go to the ER … and ask my doctor for a medical marijuana prescription, ahhhhhh, better.
I have cut myself pretty badly on my comma splices and need to go to the ER.
If they had arranged the keys in alphabetical order then we would all know how to type, but instead they cling to the notion of frequency of use and other erudite reasoning.
As inspired by: Bunni's It Would Be a Very Different World if Pavlov had used Cats
Agnes loved Oscar because she thought his pet name for her, Belle, sounded romantic and sweet, but if she’d known that he’d started calling her that because he salivated worse than a Pavlovian test dog every time she walked into the room, her feelings might have been different.
I wonder where my cat got the idea that the alarm is the signal to curl up by my head and purr as loud as an outboard motor.
Taco pizza.
After her weekly phone call from her mother, Cheryl began referring to advice as fruit cake because just like the candied delight no one really wants it in the first place, and the recipient always stuffs in the deepest recesses of their freezer waiting for an opportunity to “regift” it (or throw it back in the givers face as Cheryl’s mom would later accuse).
Why do the almonds in my waldorf salad have legs?
Last night, I woke myself up with the screams and cries from seeing your cracked skull on the pavement.
What is it about human nature that makes us populate the front page with death, disaster and doom?
For dessert, the restaurant delivered up a slab of double-chocolate cake so rich that four bites could send one person into insulin shock.
After writing the sentence, “Intracellular recognition is the result of pathogens taken into the cell through the endocytic pathway, their destruction by phagocytosis, and further disintegration by the proteasome”, I chuckled and muttered, “heh…phag”, under my breath because sometimes it’s just more fun to be 12 years old.
the subtle one neglects to mention she gets to go home early because: IT’S HER BIRTHDAY TODAY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAM!
Juan was briefly surprised upon peeling an orange for his afternoon snack when he realized it didn’t have a little “Sunkist” sticker on it, but then he remembered, he’d picked it fresh from his orange tree that morning.
i made it well over a week ago and stuck the leftovers in a little box, but it’s dinner tonight so, should you not hear from me, you’ll know they stuck my own leftovers in a bigger one.
When the still-quite-water-intensive grapes dry up in Australia, at least they’ll still have raisins.
“I may need you to write a report soon about freeways, which means you might have to leave around 3:30 or 4:00 today to gather first-hand data about the condition of the roadway, and if you don’t make it back until tomorrow, well, that will just have to do.”
“You know, you’re funkier than a mosquito’s tweeter.”
“Mommy, lispers,” said little Jason, handing over her slippers and completely missunderstanding her amusement (which would fade in later years as she paid thousands of dollars of speech therapy bills).
Creative procrastination is an art; actually doing things is just plain work.
The collapse of 98-percent of Australia’s rice crop due to six years of drought has led to huge increases in wine-grape production.
It’s all well and good to applaud my independent lifestyle until the lightbulb in the kitchen goes out, which is too high up for me to change even on a step stool and the best my ersatz brother can do is make it over “this weekend.”
And I thought my divorce was humiliating!
Why, no, I’m not worried about driving through the mountains, up and down steep elevations and around hairpin turns, even though I haven’t been behind the wheel of a car in close to 20 years; nope, not even a tiny iota of worry in this girl! [weak laughter].
An empty road, a clear horizon, land stretching as far as the eye can see…
If you’re going to belch, belching after eating a mango is about as good as it gets.
I really am a nice person, but I just can’t stop fantasizing about stabbing him in the eye.
Every day she woke up and the neighbors were that much closer; the aluminum foil was running out and she was starting to panic.
“What do you mean, broke?” April said, “I still have credit cards.”
Phil decided the moment he woke up that the very first thing he would do is take a nap.
Soy mogul Heinrich Ratzenburger hoped that an ad campaign with a decent rhyme scheme would boost sales.
Genetically weight gain is linked to a small node in the brain called the hippopotamus which is stimulated by exposure to Twinkies, cupcakes and cheese puffs and it is thought that those with very large asses must have a correspondingly large hippopotamus in their brains.
Periodically my PC decides to automatically shutdown and reboot without asking my permission.
When is a cigar not merely a cigar?