I can control the world’s weather with my tonsils!
Yes, Pam, I think you’re right, and furthermore, I think Christmas should only be celebrated in winter olympic years.
My therapist is not going to be happy when I report that I am now hearing the voices of the little people who live inside my computer.
Is it snobby to eschew Neil Diamond?
You will get wrinkles.
It occurred to me just now that death, which usually fills me with a bit of dread, should be enjoyed for its tax-free real estate benefit.
The feelings passed, but not the memories, and that forlorn pounding grew inside of him of everything that’d been lost or abandoned, until finally the inside of his head felt coated with layer after layer of failing paint.
“Fear the ruse,” Henry would whisper each night into his wife’s ear while she slept, trying hard to ignore their dog’s cold stare.
Sworn mortal enemies, the Vegetable family had long been feuding with the Fruit family; this ongoing furor was said to have been sparked by a fable that involved a lost baby tomato, later found in the woods, whom both families claimed as their own.
Do you ever fear waking up to an empty brain?
I want to be a Master Artichoke Cleaner
I’m told that Jaya Gurudev Om, roughly translated, means “hail the spiritual master,” which is something I’d never bothered to wonder until I googled it just now.
Yes, Pam, I think you’re right, and furthermore, I think Christmas should only be celebrated in winter olympic years.
Every time Bob washes his jeans, he carefully stashes a $20 bill in the pocket, getting great secret pleasure from his flirtation with the dark underworld of money laundering.
Do I ever!
What did you with my body?!
My heart stopped beating at the sight of her unusual fruits.
Cream crackers + homemade blackberry jam = breakfast.
Get your hands off that last Wal-Mart sale item, you damn dirty ape!
i just thought i would tell the bird that for once in my life i am so very glad to be home.
they’d sold a piece, he said, and display is a constant rotation, as he hammered to the gallery wall the same colorful 45 rpms that last i’d seen some 30 years ago, summer in my burbank apartment, all piled up next to the record player; i should get mine out, i told him, how did i get so old?
When I look at that I think, that’s documentary truth!
One’s faith that it is possible to divide up humanity into 16 personality types, or nine, or four, may simply come down to how many numbers one can comfortably remember.
The Suburban Amish wish, for a fleeting moment, that they hadn’t been brought up to be so squeamish, as they watch a potential dinner cavort in their Japanese maple tree.
“The reason you hate the wind so much, Mom, is because you don’t like to be pushed around.”
The most revolutionary and life-changing application of the personal computer is the ability to throw away all one’s mixed tapes from high school boyfriends with nary a trace of nostalgia.
I’m only interested in reincarnation if I can come back as a giant sea turtle.
The shaman warns us that if one doesn’t learn one’s karmic lessons in this life, one runs the risk of returning as a lower life-form such as a coconut; what he fails to impress on us, among other things, are 1) how exactly we could be cognizant that we have been cruelly debased to the level of a tropical fruit, and 2) why being a coconut is an inherently bad thing at all.
“My mother warned me you’d be bullheaded, but did I listen?”
She looked at the custard tart and wondered if she had it all wrong; what if they did have souls after all?
They assured Jenna that in a few months, it would get very busy at the agency, and she would be in charge of many complicated and important projects, and then they ushered her to a cubicle and explained that she would conduct her own orientation for the next month or two by combing through the shared drive for random memos, templates, and written procedures.
as I scribbled on the back of the index card, then swiped a page from my daughter’s composition book, then the back of an unpaid bill- I realized: I am a Writer.
Maybe next time around you will be cognizant only for the time your brain is asleep, wondering why you have odd visions of a world that is so bright and busy.
Bob prided himself on his untainted grammarma.
The worst thing I couldn’t imagine happens, and I am not upset, I am not sick with dread and self hatred and guilt; I go about my business, my heart feels light, I smile and laugh and turn the charisma up to eleven with strangers; the only trace of the rug having been pulled out from under me is that, with the exception of last evening, I have no urge whatsoever to write.
Posting a scrine sentence at 10:10, I exercise my formidable multi-blogging abilities.
I can’t seem to get through my obsession with the color orange lately.
Macadamia nuts, Maui natural sugar, butter, egg yolks, flour, kosher sea salt (full stop)
If you’ve hurt your baker’s feelings, you might consider bringing her a nice bouquet of flours.
came to me in a lightning strike, almost forcing me to write them down in seizure, and I carried them with me for the better part of a day, glancing at them here and there (when memory failed to recalled them accurately); and I judged them not half bad, and immediately felt a pressing need to put them somewhere safe. But where?
I remember it so clearly…my girlfriend’s dorm room in college…my voice: “Why are they playing so much Beatles music on the radio?”…her reply: “Didn’t you hear?”…then hours of stunned silence.
The day they develop the technology to tell you the precise day you’ll expire is also the day they’ll start putting Prozac directly into the water.
Even soap bubbles think they’ll never pop.
“These flies!”
I’ll catch you, I will; I’ll nurse you, I’ll love you.
Do not catch a sharp tin when it is falling to the ground.
Do read Winnie-the-Pooh on the train on the way in to work in the morning.
Why are you all here?
seriously, and then i woke up to find nobody here and my credit card minimums all doubled.
how long before we get quasi-universal wifi access like we have for cel phones now, because i can run this thing in my car, but i can’t take it very far (and i wanted scrinecast on my last roadtrip, but to no avail.)
Thank God for Scrine, for it gives me a few more minutes reprieve before I actually work.
Six-year-olds should never, ever be trusted.
If page hits were $, Keith would be a millionaire!
If I ever meet the person who invented time zones, jet travel or children, I’m going to sit him/her down for a serious talking-to.
Joe had the heart of a unheard karaoke star; no, literally, Joe’s heart had come from the chest of a young South Carolina woman who had actually died from embarrassment after having a microphone shoved into her hand at the company Christmas pa
A big number indeed, second only to the number showing on the bruised ego counter I keep strapped to my hip at all times.
It’s fun to torture e, all you have do is threaten not to post sentences.
to publish a comment as boot requested (although the only appropriate response i could think up was “huh?”, so maybe that’s my problem) but it must be on the other side of the planet or something again as it won’t let me comment there no matter how hard i try; how she do dat?
(not counting Keith and Other who, I presume, go way back) have actually met IRL, as it were?—I ask only because we’re all taking on the characteristics of old friends, at least to me.
(grrrmblesnrfffhnnnnnfubph)
The book was called Doing Research In The Real World; we read every chapter, every page, but became disoriented - where is this “real world”?
I saw my ex-boyfriend (the one I turned gay) in the newspaper perched on top of a spray-painted car advertising his artwork and thought to myself, well, that’s definitely the One That Got Away, even though he always smelled kind of funny.
What a happy inter-continental story of peace, love, and postal services we have had today!
’mouse is completely unembarassed by his tree fetish.
When your little darling, seemingly recovered from the stomach flu, asks if you’re sure it’s safe for her to drink a glass of milk … say no, my friend, say no; it’s a trick question being posed by the dark gods of regurgitation.
its usefulness, its awkwardness: years ago i adopted my initial as an expedient nickname equally because that’s what friends called me and because others seldom called me at all, not being able to remember my friggin’ name, and it was good; lately i have been considering that “e” when writ small is even more enigmatic than would be my name writ large and so i seem to have come full circle back into—o, no!— that pretentious, pedantic obfuscation we all abhor, and it is not (sigh.)
Where did all the humanity go, did it leave or was it never here, or have I left and just not noticed?
She called her Rosie when no one else could, she smiled at rainbows with her, she was as compassionate a woman as anyone could hope to find, she filled this world with a gentleness that can never be matched and when it came time to farewell her, Rosie didn’t cling, she didn’t fuss and she didn’t cry, she just smiled at her and wished her well.
is an unstuck keyboard, or four: m’s! k’s! spacebars! backsp
Crash went the thunder, into the dark and gloomy sky, blind went your eyes as the whole sky turned white with enough power to fly you to the moon.
NEW YORK (CNNMoney) - Legendary musician Bob Dylan has signed on with XM Satellite Radio as host of a weekly program, according to an XM statement Thursday.
It’s my unhappy duty to report that the rules against human interaction are becoming even more stringent than you can imagine.
If all your dreams came true…what would your brain have left to do while you slept?
From Goolgle News: “Taiwanese firm to make $100 laptop for the poo”
I knew it.
I think e here is trying to catch up with me.
When did the “no hitting” rule for first graders expand to “no touching, not even hugging?”
I’m considering having my spine removed so that the steel exoskeleton will be easier to install.
My kingdom for something chocolate.
“Oh, Muriel,” whispered Cecil as he took her in an urgent embrace, “My love for you makes my heart all warm and crunchy, like a beer at the beach.”
The bear, the duck, the furry rhinoceros and the sad giraffe pottered along in their tinky truck, pulled along by the big yellow elephant.
The Ghost of Christmas Bubonic Plague tells me that, much like Pope Clement VI, I run like a bear.
… hell, it’s Christmas time.
over there under Recent Comments for Modern Life Sux or we’ll lose Keith’s priceless pullquote, masquerading as an essay topic in 25 words or less —>
As Science Dabbler Boot™ swooped over the sky, she noticed the amazing Coriolis effect and wondered how she could put this to good use in her efforts to save the endagered Scientific Boffin.
The sexual harrassment prevention training can be summed up in one salient point: everything you ever learned from “Seinfeld” could get you fired.
Everyone always says that your eyesight is the first to go, or your memory, or your sex drive…I’m just hoping that the last thing to go is my imagination.
“He [a lower-mid-level manager] wasn’t home, so we gave the letter to his live-in maid.”
Eagerly, she strapped on her secular lexicon and her trusty spear of flexible tolerance, on her first day as a conscript in the War on Christmas.
The thing I remember most about Kat is that she smelled like a rainbow.
Funny, back in high school my health teacher, Keith, said something about making sure 5-inch tall Little Keith was always wearing his turban and to be careful where he tried to stow away—I never quite understood what he was talking about.
I tried to build a sub-division once which included a street called Sex Dr., and was surprisingly given approval by the city, but only if Sex Dr. be built as a dead-end and renamed Fading Ct.; needless to say, I reluctantly gave in.
Original Christmas stories are not a dime a dozen, as I’d mistakenly thought before sitting down to write mine.
She spoke of being older, she said it was time to write about what it had all meant, her hands trembled slightly as she made the coffee, yet she clambered over boulders to bring you lemons from her garden, and hugging her goodbye felt like trying to hold a rose in your arms.
see, when i said nobody post one more comment i really meant here on that partlicular scrine post last night, not ever nowhere on typepad forevermore, really, and i’d like to extend my sincere apologies for the havoc i seem inadvertantly to have wrought: kidding!
sigh
Can’t access my TypePad blog, can’t access my Yahoo mail from my agency’s server, can’t accept an online invitation to Jo’s blog … life is forcing me to quell boredom by working.
Brain dented, hands throbbing, she grudgingly admired the sun’s sinking with weary patience.
I can’t decide if I should regard my newly-identified blog addiction as basically harmless, like the one I have for caffeine, or as seriously problematic as the one I (used to) have for tobacco.
I’m blogging over here today, because of the horrible trainwreck that is typepad.
http://tragicblogfreeday.blogspot.com/
One of the scariest things in the modern world is to let a friend know your blog exists.
Keith, has Scrinecast, but I don’t, so when Kraftwerk [link removed] came up on random play on my pc-jukebox this morning and completely freaked me out through my cranked-up headphones, I thought I’d share it.
The clock ticked softly in the corner, but as the big hand struck the twelve, Mr Bun exclaimed “Oh, my, it is time for a little bit of barglebees, I must go!”