“Sorry about the blood on your jacket, but again, no, this hat is not for Melbourne Cup Day, it’s for keeping the burning sun off of my head.”
Though I’ve called these people my dearest friends for six years, most of that time we’ve lived very far away from each other, and I am beginning to suspect that they are actually clones manufactured by a fast right wing conspiracy to make leftism look like it really is just an excuse for overeducated brats to feel superior; I swear, if I have to hear one more time about how stupid it is to buy a new car/ carry credit card debt/ shop at the mall/ subscribe to cable, I am going to fucking kill someone.
Hiccups are funny until they start to hurt.
I’m not sure what causes me more trouble, the wind or the things content to be blown around by it.
I’m a giant glue ball.
“What a waste!” thought Bob, as he contemplated all the years he’d spent not knowing how to fry chicken.
In the unnatural silence of the kid-free house, Babbette prepared for the pool boy’s arrival by fanning out the library books on the coffee table.
Imagine you are three years old and you’ve never seen the ocean because you live in Ohio but you’ve been playing with kites and climbing trees all morning and you can still hear the voices of the other kids outside but they seem so far away unlike the ceiling fan and the sheer curtains dancing in the breeze which together are filling up your consciousness in a pleasant foggy sort of way so that her voice goes right into the deepest parts of your brain; for one midday hour you dream of shells that sing away the ache from when the nose fell off your favorite bear, and smooth round stones as small as a world and as large as how it feels when your words come out all jumbled and the grown ups don’t fix the problem, the important problem, but just stare at you like what you are saying is not part of any language they comprehend.
Okay folks, listen up—if I’m going to stop being a ‘mouse and start being a ‘muse, y’all have to start listening to me—Keith, good job on “Bottle Cap, Going Down,” keep up the good work; Bakerina, throw on that apron and get to work—I wanna see apple pie and an eggy update by Monday; anyone else? Jo, you get Jen pregnant yet? What’s next? Step right up, I’m ready for ya! Come one, come all, the ‘muse is in the house.
is it a bad sign when i’m carrying a boot knife and loudly threatening my neighbors labrador with a messy death? i contend it’s not the estrogen, but the lack thereof that’s plaguing me.
Babbette started writing plaintive poetry on the subject of death and aimed at consoling her neighbors using the materials in her front yard, though she was stumped when it came to the bright green garden hose.
It is the fate of the dead or missing to become what we make of here.
When did my little shelf of 30 books turn into the “room lined with bookshelves”?
Remember when you were a kid and running meant really running, running mindlessly and without fear of falling and hurting yourself, running gracelessly, legs and arms flailing, getting sweaty and having your hair stick in your face, but then occasionally you did fall over and graze your knee and because it was so fun and there weren’t any grown-ups around to make crying worthwhile, continuing to run even as you crawled back up on to your feet, and you just kept on running until you fell down on the grass exhausted and laughing so hard that it hurt.
What would happen if I suddenly developed piety and attended the evangelical church on the hill.
You’ve marked your calendar and you know that Friday’s The Big Day, so now you have to do your part.
”…and at some some point you will become consumed by this passion,” the professor told the class, “and then, and only then, will you understand why the words “writing” and “writhing” are spelled nearly identical.”
sometimes i have to be smacked upside the head with things in order to see them; i’m sorry that when i packed up some of my comments for a move, i took you (the vague obnoxious editorial You) and your comment count down with me.
Gloria’s emotional baggage was already over-packed when she began the marriage journey, but when the inevitable train wreck ensued, she picked through the remains and wandered sadly away from the rubble, trailing issues she didn’t even realize were fluttering along behind her.
I’m getting tired of living in my own head, so now I’m going to live in my armpits instead.
Trying hard to satisfy the boy’s curiosity about dates and calendars and how it all works, and not actually knowing much about it myself, I was trying to explain that the calendar we currently used was something invented and based around Jesus, and that there were actually more then 2000 some odd years to existence, and basically lowering myself into an intellectual hole that I was digging and knew I wouldn’t be able to climb out of, when suddenly the boy said, “Was Jesus on the cover of the first calendar, because it sounds kind of important, so there must have been a good action pose on every page.”
…and he finally reappeared to finish his sentence!
I grinned and, in explanation, opened those horrifyingly grey doors.
Now that I’ve convinced all my neighbors that voting is for sissies, my own vote is worth so much more!
was it something i said?
His legs transitioned to his ass in such a smooth way as to make one think of sculpture reflecting muscle rather than muscle itself.
Like anal retentive hope, Bob’s goals spring eternal in an impossible, but organized manner.
Sometimes a scriner posts a sentence about, say, meeting someone they’ve been riding the bus with for lo these many years, and I get to noticing things in my life as a result, but then the days all pile on top of each other and it is much too long before I finally do finish blogging about it, by which time the scrine that stared it all is nowhere to be commented on.
If you finished everything today (and I mean everything) what would you do tomorrow?
What makes a great curry the night before, makes for interesting textured burps after eating the leftovers the day after.
One little known fact from the world of veterinarian medicine is that Dr. Leo Campbell, D.V.M., the world’s leading authority in feline collagen lip enhancement, also operates a highly successful camel hump enlargement clinic just outside of Bakersfield, California.
The sentence remained expressionless, one stoic line amidst the curious gawkers, it’s meaning hidden from the world forever as the clock struck 6:10 a.m. and the warden gave the signal for the period to be placed.
One time I died and went to Heaven, my soul reborn as a perfectly round, beautiful piece of glass; unfortunately, a man who’d once ran with scissors as a kid found me, picked me up, and said, “So, you think you’re the right eye for the job?”
when (exactly) did sex, drugs and rock’n’roll become ‘checks, prescriptions, and fixing the toilet bowl’?
Make sure you were aware of exactly what was happening in highschool, at the time that it was happening.
so yesterday I was down in the stacks, listening along to the audionovel, when I hear the denouement: the principal suspect had Creutzfeld-Jacob disease and she knows this because of the drug he was taking for it still resident in his defunct circulatory system, which drug is the selfsame one that I am prescribed to ward off the heebie-jeebies, and i wonder: ?
SWCSOFTRSFF:
She Who Corrupts the Souls of Others by Forcing Them to Read Snippets of Fan Fiction.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, under penalty of perjury?”
How come I don’t hear about Wild East heroes?
She-ee-it.
One night I just couldn’t take it any more, so I unhooked the chain and that old hound headed straight out into the woods to do the Lord’s work.
*click here for the reading and/or physically impaired version of the same sentence
‘mouse offered me a soapbox, and then y’all have been talking about generations and age and whatnot, and I want to join the conversation, but it turns out my thoughts only come in 900 word increments.
One morning he wasn’t there; the sweet old guy who made my morning coffee, brought me a rose from his garden, made me laugh, showed me photos from when he was young, and flirted lovingly with all the women.
The addictive qualities of Scrine are fully described in the Wasted Time Guarantee® section of the club membership packet.
“Hmmmm, smells like dead duck—and I mean that in the best possible way”
Bob’s favorite part of the political process was that politicians always got old, died, and eventually forgotten.
It was a dark and stormy night,
We had a belching contest and I WON!
Why do we spend so much time teaching our kids about stranger danger when at the end of the day, statistics tell us that most victims of crime are victims not of some arbitrary stranger, but of someone they know…?
Boot has gleefully pointed out that I have now appeared in the list of ten scriners, which is a little disturbing… and lead me to wondering *where is* Bunni - the person whose posting made me discover the scrine site in the first place - I wanted to cite the quote I’d received via messenger, before sharing it willy-nilly with others - come back bunni!
A fortune teller once told me, “I see your life connected with computers,” which I have to admit, sounded an awful lot like everyone’s future.
The study and plotting of crabbiness isn’t a science, but it should be.
… a man who has lost his wife of forty years, a man whose love is so profound that many months after her passing he still keeps a place at the table for her ‘in case she drops by’ and who, when he speaks of her, doesn’t even notice the tears that stream down his face.
This weekend we debated whether the world is continually turning left (or is it right? if north is up, of course…) as it hurtles around the sun.
not one minute more, i’m going back to new orleans on saturday, flying in for two days only this time, found a package, cannot wait for St. Charles to open in a month i’ll drive back then, but for now i just cannot wait: this weekend I am going home!!
Why do blow flies sound so crunchy when they get eaten?
My daughter told me the reason you can’t hear cats’ flatulence is that they don’t have large primate asses like ours.
I’ve been accused of killing time, but I swear it was in self defense.
Though I’ve called these people my dearest friends for six years, most of that time we’ve lived very far away from each other, and I am beginning to suspect that they are actually clones manufactured by a fast right wing conspiracy to make leftism look like it really is just an excuse for overeducated brats to feel superior; I swear, if I have to hear one more time about how stupid it is to buy a new car/ carry credit card debt/ shop at the mall/ subscribe to cable, I am going to fucking kill someone.
And while a pile of bones buried beneath two feet of earth is seldom thought of as being on the move, that is exactly what this particular pile of bones was doing, having made their arrangement with the hermit’s unsuspecting dog, who each morning dropped another one of them off at the hermit’s door, covered in fresh saliva.
what would we all do if it weren’t for scrine?…
I’ve heard the old saying “The best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” has been officially updated to “The best way to a man’s heart is through fast food and triple bypass surgery.”
…in a world where irony and world-weary detachment are the norms, is there any room left for sincerity?
Oh, the tyranny of “early pickup days” from elementary school, how you torment us!
He ran the free world
Republicans hated him
She was not that hot.
i have have arriv, it is 40-odd degrees in New Oreleans (with WWOZ on the actual radio instead of streaming, albeit from Baton Rouge) the quarter is deserted, i need to go find food, i got wireless in the room for a mere $5 extra and i will go out and scuff around now after i drink this cuppa coffee.
I just discovered there is a little tiny label on my Internet connection which says: WARNING - Connecting to the ‘net may suck all interest in doing anything at all useful out of you; combining with coffee and a donut in the morning may increase this effect and make you useless all day.
Babette employed a bevy of editors (and singlehandedly stimulated the economy of her small city) because of her fate: she was in love with passive verb tense, and couldn’t bear to see it changed.
Don’t turn the page, it’s so loud that it hurts (can’t you hear the scraping).
It’s true: if “intelligent design” is in fact fact, then I have no one to blame for the virus in my body except God herself.
Bob couldn’t remember the last time he’d swallowed any idea hook, line, and sinker.
She looked down at her feet and wondered, “why so many?”
Now I’m wondering if each time I’ve thought I was happy, it was simply a chemical reaction and easily dismissed as illusion.
A Scrine without a sentence is like __________ without ___________.
Bob wondered why his name was attached to a cute, short haircut for women when it would be more appropriate if it referred to a wispy, greying comb-over look for men.
Bob smiled wanely at the baby in the woman’s lap on the other side of the waiting room and remembered when he used to play with little Bob, Jr.’s toes: This little Bob went to market, and this little Bob stayed home; this little Bob had roast beef, and this little Bob had none; this little Bob cried “wee-wee-wee” all the way home!
She reached into her handbag to get her keys and, to her abject horror, found them covered with little pink squiggly things.
It’s a good thing animals are so stupid, or they’d be doing things like inventing money, getting jobs, and showing up at church on Sunday.
Miss Jane wiped her hands down her skirt as she stepped away from the body, thinking to herself “Well, if you hadn’t got into the damn lift, chatting to your damn friend, holding open the doors and holding us all up, all the while carrying an infernal American-chain-we-don’t-have-spoons-or-cups takeaway paper recepticle of so-called-coffee, I wouldn’t have had to do that.”
All children shall come with adult-sized earplugs on long lanyards, built in.
“Mom, I plugged the iron in, and it’s hot now,” she yelled across the house.
In one corner of the room the women could be seen, huddled together, quietly dissussing elasticity, while across the room, in the corner furthest from the window, the men had also gathered, albeit more loosely, to fold their arms across their chests and silently worry about rigidity.
Many of the mistakes we parents make are rooted in the belief that our children will live some version of our own childhoods.
Peradvenure this word will actually catch on.
Have you heard that Linus van Pelt’s first name was inspired by one of Charles Schultz’s childhood friends who was noted for his lying ways?
The guy who said he’d come over to fix the leak this morning is probably at that Handyman Fun Fair I suspect is held daily on the edge of town, where they all stand around watching a rodeo, drinking coffee from styrofoam cups, taking the ski lift together, giggling insanely while mocking their customers for their neediness, reveling in their stranglehold on our fair city.
Gumption, infamy, alas, arise, smatterings, milieu, rambling, hark, buccaneer, widdershins; these words are amongst the detritus from the brain of a linguaphile, and they have found their home.
Laura experienced two types of insomnia: the eyes open at 3am, might as well read type that was almost a guilty indulgence, and last night’s kind which was grinding, anxiety-riddled funky awfulness where she couldn’t read, couldn’t sleep and simply had to wait forever for dawn when she’d get up, puke from the stress and try to make it through the day.
5. Any customer who suspects, questions, wonders about, or in any way investigates the existence of the Stranglehold Conspiracy will be automatically rescheduled or delayed service so as to allow overtime billing.
It’s like I’m Captain Randell somehow, or maybe even Leon Mainguy, and every time the phone rings it’s another shot plunging into my side, because let’s face it, my creditors stopped dropping shots across my bow about three months ago and now the chase is on.
She gritted her teeth and plunged her hand into the dark, oily and very cold bilge water, feeling around for the finger she had just dropped there.
I wish the phone company had a service that would guarantee that you’d only be able to call someone else’s message machine, and that he or she would never pick up the phone and actually speak when you called.
I’m hoping that this time around the Hobbits don’t lose.
Peter kept the bucket of frogs in the bedroom closet, just in case
Not every holiday involves eating a turkey, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea.
All the times you have stood in line are counted up and given back to you at the end of your life in the form of exotic drinks and delicious appetizers.
It jangles, it tinkles, it shines, it glistens, it sparkles; it is music to my ears.
A person can judge their current economic standing simply by listening to their phone answering machine, then forming a simple ratio comparing the number of computer-simulated voice messages left to the number left by actual human beings, keeping in mind as they total the numbers that calls originating from collection agencies should be counted as computer-simulated, no matter how humanoid the voice on the message may sound.
Next time you read a book and are moved strongly by a piece of writing, get out your pen (I said pen, not pencil) and write something on that page.
Henry couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d said what was on his mind.
Looking at the word “orgasmn” he’d just typed, ‘mouse wondered, is it a strange plural for orgasm, or is it the special type of orgasm generated by oral sex?
Shhh…. can you hear it, rustling in the grass?