It was a grand plan—stay up late into the night making mad passionate love to a pad of paper and his long missing muse—but somehow everything went awry when his house giraffe, working that long, blue tongue of his for what must have been hours, managed to loosen the lid on the jar of tryptophan wine that he’d thought he’d stored safely away, high upon the shelf above his desk.
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At the moment I thought I couldn’t get any happier, looking at my brand-new custom-made Ian Dury t-shirt, I noticed another, bigger box on the porch…from boot, at which point the shrieking began in earnest.
Is it possible to judge a workplace on the quality of their free beer at Friday afternoon drinks?
It would be several months before Keith discovered that his neighbor (who was Chinese) was not shouting “Oh, Joe!” but was actually shouting “Ou Zhou!” giving midnight voice to her love of Europe as she paged through her collection of coffee table books of European architecture and painting.
It’s so bloody clever, right up until the point when it completely fails to work.
When you are presenting an oral argument and it goes well—no, better than well—when you can feel in your bone marrow that you are making your case cleanly and efficiently, and making your client feel better as you do it, that’s when you know that all the struggling through procedural arcana and breach-of-contract math will eventually bring you to this worthy place.
As inspired by: His Name is Mudd
“When that regulatory captain of the football team tries to get you liquored up on leverage and to strip down your capital in the backseat of his car while his buddies Shareholder and Homeowner watch, you tell him you’re not that kind of quasi-governmental institution.”
Dear Spammerati: No, I *won’t* love it when he rogers me with something so big I can feel it in my tonsils, so we opt not to buy your product at this time; Yours, etc., Bakerina…p.s. I believe that this is what the youngsters refer to as EPIC FAIL.
Don’t judge a man until you steal his shoes and carry them far away.
The small child, dressed like a pumpkin, looked at the small piece of “candy” corn in his hand suspiciously - very suspiciously indeed.
You can really get an interesting perspective on life when you’re laying helplessly on your back, and everything’s upside-down.
Is it just me, or does Busta Rhymes rapping in 1996 sound rather quaint, nearly listenable, and with overtones reminiscent of Arlo Guthrie if Arlo said “motherfucker” and “Woo Hah!”?
The point of taking such a low paying job, the chief thought, was to have time to do things not necessarily job related during work hours, but of course, that hadn’t really worked out the way he’d planned.
A good example of excessive worrying might be if you’re poor, but you’re worried that grave robbers won’t know about it and dig you up anyway.
Keeping his distance, the chief followed the stranger until he disappeared into the shadows.
There is no taste for accounting.
Invention is the necessity of mothers.
Warm slippers make up for a world of hurt; a warm cat on the lap, the same.
Mass is the opiate of the religions.
The fear of wisdom is the beginning of all gods.
The fear of wisdom is the beginning of all gods.
The banana looked up at John Cleese with tears in its eyes.
“I’m pretty sure it’s the same technology used on this TV my grandparents had that was all 80’s-high-tech because the buttons on the TV could only be pressed by living flesh for it to work but it didn’t work for me at all and if I was the only person at their house I had to hold the dog up to the TV to change the channel.” [The Bloggess]
As he plotted the final steps towards world conquest, Damien found himself cheerfully humming the tune to “I just can’t wait to be king”.
Sometimes the muse delivers a sentence without a title and sometimes she delivers a title without a sentence.
Having just uploaded my synopsis to NaNoWriMo I feel confident that come November 1st I will be ready to go and, come the end of the month, I will actually have finished the all important first draft.
Josie noticed that if she kept a bunch of bananas in her kitchen, they would sit untouched until they turned brown, but whenever she bought just one banana, her kids would fight over it.
“Parenthood is like being an architect,” Rev. Darko advised a distressed couple, “in that, no matter how carefully you build a structure over 18 years or so, sooner or later, you’ll have to step back and see if the silly thing can stand on its own.”
The Sine looked lustfully at his trusty Cosine and at that moment realized that what he felt went beyond The Lone Ranger and Tonto and had entered the realm of Batman and Robin.
Did you ever wonder why this little line we type with is called a cursor? Fuck.
Time moves far more slowly in a waiting room with two tired, hysterical children.
I sometimes stop what I’m doing and try to make sense of what it is I’m putting off in exchange for the stuff I’m doing and it reminds me of how ridiculous it is to not do one thing in order to do something else, I mean, seriously, unless you’re delivering a baby or playing racketball, anyone can multitask the living shit out of life, a person’s brain being spongy for a reason, malleable to a specific end, because, for instance, and I’m speaking from experience here (at least to a certain degree), even flying a plane barely requires the firing a whole lot of synapses anymore, what with the level of automation these days, hell it’s possible to punch in coordinates and let the computer and the GPS arm-wrestle their way to Albequerque and to be honest, I worked harder flying little single-engine puddle jumpers in Alaska, always worried about the combination of mountain turbulence, weather, and those motherfuckin’ flying monkeys unleashed by that wicked witch that lives somewhere in the ass crack of that one mountain (you know the one; it has the snow on it) at random intervals during the seemingly unending winter darkness that falls upon the entire state over the course of roughly eight months and what the hell is with all these people that move to Alaska and then have such a hard time dealing with the long cold winters and dark days and nights, give me a break, is it a surprise that ALSASKA gets cold and dark for long stretches of time, is it some kind of Old Testament miracle that in the depth of winter, the sun may show itself just long enough to flip you the bird as it skirts the horizon, because the earth, you see, it sits upon this AXIS that TILTS and wait, before I delve into the murky depths of astronomy and physics and the complicated workings of EARTH AXIS DYNAMICS 101 allow me to get back to why I’m writing this long and convoluted effort in futility, which is because it has been too long (TOO LONG, I SAY) since I’ve spent any significant amount of time here and it pains me to think that I lack the motivation required for a sentence, one measley sentence, especially when I think back to those times not long ago when I pooped them out somewhat regularly and rejoiced in the outlet of words and punctuation long pent up in a brain that so desperately needed relief from itself, so why then, have I ceased recently, surely it has nothing to do with my current vocation, please, a sentence is a sentence and happens regardless of what else goes on during the course of memorizing how someone metabolizes glucose or the genetic machinery involved in making sure a person can throw a dart, so in the end there is no excuse and all that’s left is to regurgitate all the drivel that’s built up for far too long.
It’s almost midnight and she’s still wearing her morning face.
Jack was just beginning to snuggle up to his girlfriend at the end of a very long day, when suddenly he got a phone call from the marines, and they wanted to talk to him about his future.
You are a social anarchist!
When I was a kid, I used to call bananas ‘bablanas’; to this day, I still find myself using that word in conversation.
As far as she could remember, Tanya had never picked up a banana without answering it, “Hello?”
In the dark the Coefficient of Fear lurked and grew stronger.
It’s not that I don’t understand that headline writers (and now, in the 21st century, hyperlink writers) have a difficult job—after all, it’s hard to get your point across in five words or less; having said that, thanks to the pithy editor who placed “McCain: Step Down, Stevens” on today’s SFGate home page, I will be singing “Stand Down Margaret” by the English Beat all day long.
Although it no doubt involved the paying of heavy fines, Henry was pleased by the library’s warning.
“In this world, nothing is certain but death and Texas.”
As a kid, Sera had been terrified of the ghost she believed lived in her basement hall; as an adult, she no longer feared the new ghost in the new house.
As the handsome gay man at the uptown gay bar continued to compliment her, Bunni realized that God gives you exactly what you want in the least useful form possible.
It took this powerful hair band video to teach us the very nature of true love, the magic of churches that are bigger inside than outside, and the grim reality of death by reception.
You can’t really do yoga to Guns-N-Roses (except maybe their ballads), but you sure as hell can rock!
You may wonder why I tolerate my religiously fastidious neighbor Jerry who diligently tries to save my soul every morning, but I can’t help feeling a modicum of affection and neighborly good cheer toward a guy who brings coffee and muffins to my front door every morning and then sits quietly as I regale him with tales of humping Mormon missionaries and banging every Jehovah’s Witness that comes knocking on my door – you just got to a love a guy like that!
Just before the end of the world everyone will be doing everything they do every day, like we’re doing right now.
Lately, I find I simply cannot draw faces that look even remotely feminine - rather, they look as though they’ve been thoroughly gnawed upon by rabid hyenas.
Speaking of 80’s hair music, I found myself horrified to tears by this video.
Thou Shalt Not Drink White Wine Spritzers in a Pint Glass.
She was a big ol’ geek but she attended social occasions nevertheless, being of the opinion that you can’t drink too many margaritas or eat too many chips in life, and really, people are interested in conversing on two subjects only: themselves, and, metaphorically, themselves having sex.
If you tell me the city I live in is boring, I might tell you about this afternoon’s crime spree, where a woman robbed a bank armed only with a Post It note while just across town, a naked hobo paraded through the aisles of a local grocery store.
They’re fun until ... nope, they’re just fun.
(Your hair is in my mouth.)
It got caught betwixt our lips,
and I bit yours
so here it lies on mine;
I don’t much mind.
The heavy rain is bringing all of the orange and yellow leaves down in sheets of fall - contrasting quite nicely with the april-shower gray sky.
Thank you, Internet, for allowing one of my favorite 80’s hair band songs to evolve into something I can share with my son, more than 20 years later.
The leaves are turning, the weather is snappier, and I’m dwelling on long winter naps.
Whenever she cried he rejoiced, knowing that he was the one who could make them go away.
Miss Jane walked balefully away from the ‘murder’ of economists, each step leaving a crisp, pointy healed blood stain on the polished wooden floor.
Sitting under the warm light of a single bulb, she read Rule 15 (c)(1)(C) and slowly, slowly, began to feel better.
Sometimes you just have to walk away—but not so far away that you can’t walk back.
I’m the enemy of the new and the innovative, unless it’s a Democrat and he’s cute as a button.
Just when you think that you are about to get out of school, two people rob the local bank.
Juan decided that he would strike terror into the hearts of all in his (previously) affluent community by wearing nothing but a sandwich board with the recent DOW Jones stock market chart as his halloween costume.
Most anthropologists agree that hominid animals crossed over into what we consider humanity the first time one of them heard a noise and thought, “Dude, that sounded pretty cool,” and then hummed it for the next few hours.
Derek pushed up his glasses, and began to own some nOObs, but he didn’t pwn them, no, he never pwned them.
I thought we talked about this before!
Never read four years worth of webcomics in four days - you start to lose your grasp of “reality”.
You have to love a professor who takes issue with sloppy terminology by quoting Inigo Montoya.
“A flaw in the model that I perceived is the critical functioning structure that defines how the world works.”
Samantha took her email forwarding obligations very seriously.
No one has lived forever yet.
When he wore his green polyester slacks, Bob was sexier than a big, bulging stack of California electoral votes.
I never thought I’d see the day when I’d actively yearn for the ability to watch sports and/or reruns of the Simpsons with nothing more than commercials for messy burgers and boner pills, but now, mere weeks away from countless elections for various levels of potential corrupting power, I would give a finger or maybe MAYBE a testicle for relief from commercials advertising proof that one person is a lesser evil than the other in exchange for all the boners and beef that television can spare.
An environment full of screeching children is definitely not conducive to a severe headache.
When the police department’s Power Point presentation showed a city map with a central area clearly marked as the “Prostitute Free Zone,” the chief could hardly contain his excitement over such good prices.
I am much better at hide ‘n go seek now, but I can barely fit in all of the cool places.
Violence isn’t the answer; it’s really hard work.
No one watches the news anymore; it’s all politics and monkey-stealing.
“Hang out with your wang out,”
Simone’s tea tasted of disappointment.
The huge bat came in a screaming dive-bomb toward the porch, like, well… like a bat out of hell.
Good neighbors sharing neighborly goodies and re-imagining every slight detail, detailing every imagined slight, documenting all the while, whiling away the time, timing every line, lining up to be the first to last, the last to die, the one who lives to tell the tale.
If they’re awake, they’re making noise.
A million years later, bees took their turn on the evolutionary ladder; they mastered time-travel with ridiculous ease, and then set about righting many wrongs inflicted upon bees of the past by the now-extinct human race.
He watched the caterpillar wiggle across the pavement, bemused and thinking how futile it was: pretty soon, it was going to feel the wrath of those claws hovering over it, and one content cat would have another meal.
Mr. Pinscher knew, but had not entirely reconciled himself to the fact, that the surest way to locate any item he had lost was to pay for its replacement.
It was the grass stain that set her off.
I’m often given a strawberry lollypop when I visit the bank, which is a nice gesture, but all I ever really want is cherry.
BASE jumping off of park benches is extremely dangerous because there isn’t enough altitude to provide time for your chute to deploy properly.
I’m sitting in the television
The silences weren’t half as awkward as the conversation itself.
Some days defying gravity is impossible even when you have a fully charged jet pack at your disposal.
The chief was not thrilled about attending the two-day long landlord law seminar, but was hoping that the police department’s presentation would give him a better understanding of low riding trousers, which would certainly help him better understand plumbers and gangsters.
The two hardest parts of painting field mice are getting them to select a color and getting them to be still until they’re dry.
I just finished watching a 1959 movie about a UFO discovered underneath the arctic circle, and it was absolutely amazing.
“I’m sure there are worse things than waking up on the side of a road inside what appears to be a giant condom,” thought Wanda, groggily.
As inspired by: Keith's Br. Ezra’s Unfortunate 3-Way
You’d have thought that after his first experience with a 3-way, Br. Ezra would have known the inevitable result long before his second-ever 3-way, this time with Sarah and Tina, ended in tears after he insulted both by calling them by the wrong names in the heat of passion.
It’s 4 minutes to Lunch o’Clock, but who’s counting?
I swear it was the brussels sprouts.
Catham Road is home base at 2 A.M.
Catham Road is home base at 2 A.M.
For low-cost torture tools, you can’t beat fiberglass insulation.
I wasn’t about to ask the greengrocer who was selling me a flat of nice, tasty, red strawberries for $10 in October where they shipped from or what kind of unholy pact had been made with the devil to bring them to my table.
In this age of mass media, 24/7 news channels, the internet and rabid bloggers, we have forgotten that life is contextual.
Sam Berry turned left on to 29 heading north from Calistoga to Yountville, shivering as the spectral lights of oncoming traffic danced like tormented souls trapped in the cistern of fog that was a winter morning in California’s famed Napa Valley.
The quarter moon hung in the sky like a chesire grin.
“Baby,” he said from his chair, watching her mutter angrily as she struggled to move the overstuffed suitcase across the threshold of the front door, fighting the heavy screen door all the way, “ain’t I good to you?”
More and more lately, after erasing a typo, I find I have to stop and actually think about which order the letters are supposed to go in.
The chief’s sense of “what to do” tingled uncontrollably every time he spotted a box of perfectly good encyclopedias sitting next to the dumpster.
She smiled and pretended she was happy for him, but in all actuality, she wanted to drive 900 miles and choke that little wench.
I love you, too: I think I always will.
Books that are dusty, ones that are new, crisp and clean, books that are silly, some that are sharp, harsh and mean, books that are real, ones that have screams, books, give me books, let me dream.
Still no superpowers, but I am suffering from malnutrition, hair loss, and a severe fiery pain in my gut.
While common sense may indeed be nature’s finest low-tech gadget, mine still breaks down when I seem to need it the most.
After watching a commercial for Bounce Dryer sheets, I am wishing that I, too, could posses a t-shirt with a small animated girl (animated anything, really) printed upon the front.
Every bit of clothing ought to make you pretty.
I had a love affair with Nina
in the back of my Cortina;
a seasoned-up hyena
could not be more obscener.
Tonight’s selections are Alka-Seltzer Plus, Vicks VapoRub, tangerine popsicles and double bourbons.
Embarrassment is the handmaiden of guilt; you will find yourself filled with confidence instead.
To hell with McCain and Obama when who really need is Warren Buffet in the oval office.
Living in the high arid plains of Denver I find that I miss sailing!
Nerdy girls make the best lovers!
Juan found that as the years progressed it became less and less important to him to assign specific genders to the imaginary voices inside his computer.
Of all the people I’ve never really met, I can’t really say that I’m not disappointed not to have met some of you least of all.
Cheese graters should not be used as any sort of hygiene device.
The door was promptly slammed in his face.
He opened the door only to find a blue-eyed man grinning deviously at him, and saying “I followed you home, wanna keep me?”
Patsy knew herself well enough to recognize she’d taken the clothes into the fitting room for no other reason than to put a face - and a color palate - to her poor sense of self-worth.
Three weeks into David’s coffee-and-popcorn diet people began to notice that he smelled kind of funky.
Have been eating toxic waste lately in the hopes that it will give me superpowers… so far, it hasn’t worked.
R.I.P., Chatbox.
“Paulson’s lovefest has ended, and now everyone is waking up bleary-eyed the next morning in a strange house, wearing someone else’s pants, possibly pregnant, and boy does it burn when they urinate—just in time for tonight’s presidential debate, which is of course not a coincidence AT ALL.”
A very talkative ghost is the most difficult to please.
Humphrey Bogart is standing in the middle of my living room.
“The next time you feel slumpy and overwhelmed, just start thinking about sex; in fact, if you go more than fifteen seconds without thinking about it, start worrying,” said a wise friend of Bronwyn’s; ultimately, Bronwyn found that this worked nicely for cleaning out the garage and worked like a champ for dinner prep, but was a little tricky during the discussion of remedies in Contracts class.
In Indian lore, Rapunzel is the name of an evil white man trapped high upon a mountain cliff whose eyebrows grew so long over the years that he was able to weave them into an elaborate dream catcher, giving him the ability to terrorize the sleep of the unwary.
To be perfectly honest would be difficult for so fallible a man as I, so let’s just agree to reserve judgement, forgo sentencing, and lie like this with each other all day.
i am not an invalid; i just want the old one back!
For every worthy demon in me, angels of my reason speak, too.
This morning Keith’s goose flew overhead, southward, silhouetted against the glowing dawn, still expounding loudly on northern summer adventures.
A shiver slinks up and down my spine as the grey of this time of year reminds me of threats and promises of old, ancient rage and righteous indignation, resolute footsteps approaching from afar, coming up the front walk at night, creaking on the first porch step.
She cheated; she bankrupt you; she wrote the note about split custody for the courts and the juries; she has been planting seeds for months to fuck you over; she has taken the kids; she set you up; she will win the restraining order, and in turn you will loose your government job; your kids are too young to understand, but this may well mess something up; you were always my favorite.
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I would very much like to build an army of deadly robots so that people with relatively happy and quiet lives would stop taking for granted how happy and quiet their lives are and might even recall fondly these days before the arrival of the robot overlords, and while I tend to think that an army of deadly robots would probably do the trick, you may be asking yourself what such a desire says about me and, well, I can assure you that my reply to your imagined question is the infuriating silence that says both everything and nothing, so please, by all means, feel free to put that in your pipe and smoke it.
More than yesterday, but less than tommorrow: I love you.
“I find dirty, sweaty, hard-working men sexy.”
As inspired by: Scott's coolness
Backfloating in the hot-tub after a killer Saturday of physical work and realizing that the sky is perfectly clear and the exact definition of “sky blue” in a way which could not ever be improved on, and commenting about it to my teenage daughter who’s sitting nearby reading who agrees with me wholeheartedly and then jumps in the tub with all her clothes on in order to properly appreciate it from my perspective—that doesn’t bother me.
If ever there were a spammer bound for Hell, this would be the one: Apparently someone named Allah Abbott wants to sell Viagra to me.
Noticing that the thermometer on the French doors read 45F, Bronwyn slipped on an extra pair of socks, donned a sweater the size of a potato sack, and put the kettle on.
What keeps me from the task at hand is the fact that it seems so daunting, but the reality is that once I start it, I begin to wonder what all the fuss had been about as I glide along and all the pieces start to fall into place until I finally look back over my shoulder and wonder why the hell I waited so long.