I hope you all said “Rabbit, Rabbit” before your feet hit the ground this morning.
When your nine-year-old son turns to you in the personal hygiene section of the grocery store and asks “What are those for, Mom?” you must try very hard to keep a straight face while promising to explain it all after you get home.
The creature of habit edged along the still water, unsure of its next move.
I really should be in bed, but I wanted to share the glorious moment with you, on this, the night before my children vacate the house and go back to school (and, it should be known, that husband of mine, who while he has many excellent attributes including an entertaining holiday bantering style among friends, must be said to sometimes be, how do I put it? Always present in the house when he has time off…)
perhaps it should be scrinepost, or even scrinescribbler?
After 17 hours of relentless rain, Jackie looked out and saw several salmon and what appeared to be a 600-pound marlin which had apparently followed the trail of grass seed up from the San Francisco Bay into her back yard.
Bob eyed the creature of habit, unsure of his next move.
The needle hit the inside of the record and starting scraping around and around, but Sally just sat in her armchair listening to the sound, listening to it go round and round and round.
I’m planting Neighbor Bob’s backyard with an acre of dandelions and thistles.
Bob had been both loved and hated by the various mother-in-laws he’d had over the years; he’d had similar experiences with house cats.
Suddenly she was worried that the eye tic was not just a sign of a strange neurological disorder, but proof that someone, late into the dark night, had stolen into her room and planted a bomb beneath her eyelid.
new machine, new ip adress, new scrine, can you hear me now?
As fodder for future therapy and/or years-later WTF-type conversations between your child and his/her future spouse, you must say the most outrageous thing you can imagine upon first meeting aforementioned future spouse; it should be either, a) heartbreakingly true, or b) 180-degrees from the truth but delivered as if by the Oracle.
When looking for a new career, what’s most important is imagining your wardrobe, and what, exactly, others will envy about your fabulous lifestyle.
No little kid ever stood up in front of her Kindergarten class and announced that she would grow up to be a cubicle-dweller; what I’m trying to say is, at my age, I still need to reconcile my age-old ideal about the perfect job, to the image of the less-than-glamourous career I actually built for myself (and like).
The creature of habit had encountered men before, but since being alarmed was not part of his habit, his gaze shifted back to the water.
The view was a weird one, all fish-eyed and whorly, but as they seemed to be stuck for a while, Blue thought they might as well stop for beer, photos and a bit of a kip.
I like to think that the asterisk that has suddenly appeared behind my name in the “members logged in” list is a crown, awarded in honor of my current position as king of the sentence-publishing hill, but I’m afear’d that it’s nothing more than a vestige of yesterday’s attempts to resolve the IP/posting issue.
I am happy to report, for the benefit of all those who undernourished, rail-thin types who can’t gain weight no matter what they eat, I have discovered The Holy Grail of weight gain—Mona Loa Macadamia Nut Chocolate Bars—four days, four 1.7oz (50gram) bars and I’ve gained five pounds!
Scrine’s
Enchantments
Nourish
Travelers
Ensnaring
Nostalgia’s
Crumbling
Elegance
I have stuffed myself to the gills with guacamole, and you could bounce a quarter off my distended stomach.
I’ll go to bed in half an hour, just as soon as I finish these toe decreases, she thought as she bent her head toward the nickel-plated circular needles; when she raised her head again, two hours had elapsed, and the horrid scritchy noise of the alarm clock was poised to…
When he wandered into my office, I could see plainly that Martin was going to dissolve into a puddle of nearly bankrupt goop, but I was powerless to either prop up his dignity or slow his dissolution, and it made us both very sad.
You know you’ve been looking at Australian language stuff for too long when you find yourself trying to construct a sentence that uses the phrases follow-me-home boots, fruit cup, and piece of piss in a meaningful and comprehensible way.
He trudged down the soggy, muddy winter lane in search of the rusty metal bird where he planned to tie his single-word sentence “Why?” where it would flutter in the desolate winter breeze like a lonely prayer flag high in the Himalayas, but then he stopped to pick up a ragged scrap of paper he spotted on the bridge over Whiskey River and, after he read it, he took out his pen, changed his note to read “Why not?” and hung it respectfully on the bird, walking away with renewed spring in his step.
On this reading of Little House on the Prairie, I can feel nothing but sympathy for poor Ma Ingalls.
Bob sometimes dreamed of keeping up, but mostly he didn’t dream at all, and almost always overslept.
Miss Jane perused her basement full of stitchwork, in an I’m-not-embarrassed sort of way, and thought “not since College, eh” well it’s a good thing I spent half the night sharpening these nice needles to such shiny, sharp points; I knew they’d come in handy.
She sashayed into the room full of writers, draped herself elegantly on the chaise longue, glanced at Sam and breathed “did you kill him?”
“Still loving the Australians now that you’ve found out they’re completely insane?”
One of the most interesting things I ever heard was a person who said “stress is all in your head” and quite correctly pointed out that every type of stress except the physical type of putting your hand in a fire, is interpreted through one’s brain—you must first hear the words or see the sight, process it and then the wave of anger, depression, hopelessness, etc. washes over you, however, it is possible to intervene in those few milliseconds, by actively deciding not to let the event stress you or through chemical rebalancing.
Blazing Mouse Sets Fire to House
the word detective has solved at last an ongoing colloquial phrase mystery for me, and is using it in next week’s issue, and all because boot (i think it was) linked to it here in a scrine comment and I thought, “self? I bet that would be a place to figure it out”: apparently my grandfather read bierce, twain, and london in their original editions, which in a million years i never would have guessed.
In Hamburg, if you ride the ferry more than three times, you are legally considered to be a sailor, and therefore must provide your own mattress.
How could so much pain fit inside one small, pointy head?
The atmosphere is slowly converting to solid cheese, which, I’m sure you’ll agree, makes it harder to breathe, not to mention getting anything accomplished.
I’ve played out this conversation so many times; breaking the news of my harmless little habit to oldman, but never without it ending in some emotional grenade thorwing showdown that I just don’t have the stomache for—forgive me, friends, for not wanting to share you with him.
That if I keep speaking in metaphors, someone is going to force me to shampoo their crotch.
Does it make sense that I woke up after dreaming about having trouble falling asleep, and was really, really tired?
“This product is manufactured in a facility that processes peanuts and other tree nuts.”
I broke into Goliard’s account in order to post sentences she asked me to post; there’s a rumor out that she may soon be joining your reluctant rodent as a guest of our handsome host, Keith.
Signed,
‘mouse
P.S. (I can violate the one-sentence rule since it’s not my account! Whatcha gonna do, ban me/her?) Anyone want to put any words in her mouth before I forget her password?
You’ll all be pleased to know that my teeth are doing fine, and that the next appointment is scheduled for July 11, clean and sparkly for Bastille Day.
Richard ran for the house, ducks crashing to the ground all around him.
O bird, o please, i’m missing things, can we carry more comments than five in the recent comments list as, with this bunch, five comments last about 37 seconds and then are hopelessly lost below the fold never to be seen again, or at least not for a week or so?
new york u gets cookbook collection!
what does it mean that I get freaky just thinking about applying to jobs here, but not when applying to far away ones like Loyola, in New Orleans? that I’m just plumb scared?
The perky young woman paused mid-sentence in her rather loud mobile phone conversation about insurance quotes, feeling that something very unpleasant and, indeed, sharp was about to happen to her.
The problem with the San Francisco Bay Area is that it never gets cold enough to properly appreciate hot-buttered rum.
It’s nothing $50 and a long night at the neighborhood bar wouldn’t fix.
The day mental health professionals can no longer bill insurance companies is the day that forgetfulness is reclassified as healthy, normal behavior.
This may look like water coming from the sky, but really, it’s rennet.
You’d think with an office full of gadgets and doodads, a guy could cram a year’s worth of work into a single night.
as Top Commenting Dog, I say……….last one over there is a rotten egg!
I’ve always suspected that my startlingly bad memory is due to having a colander shaped brain.
The sky rolled in, turning a deep cobalt blue and iridescing under the rain and bright lights, while the seagulls swirled overhead and the crowd chanted and roared.
Your site is my flame; I am your moth.
Is it a bad sign when you can’t quite get both eyes to focus on the same place and you can’t see things you try to look at directly?
Damn, will you look at all this stuff?
The best thing about going first is that the gravy ladle is always clean.
I’m saving my first sentence until I think of something really insightful to say.
This sentence is only a setup for the next one.
For a brief and shining moment today, I was top scriner.
Life is so elusive, tentative, fragile, dangerous; on the loss of a password rests the balance of my sanity.
She buried her last twenty next to the driveway, and though she didn’t survive the winter, her neighbors were overjoyed to find that the seedling bore abundant quarters the following fall.
As the youngest of three kids, I never got to be the first to do anything…the new scrine continues in that brave tradition.
Do not join Scrine when you are at the office where you can not pick up your personal e-mail and are thus forced to wait six hours until you can go home to pick up your activation code, you stupid, stupid woman, you!
She looked around in amazement, certain she’d been here before.
Why, after 9 months of unemployment and crushing credit card debt, does my new job make me feel like I need to go and spend my next few paychecks in advance?
Boot took off her … well, her boot actually… and dipped her big toe delicately in the cool, refreshing water and thought “hmm, quite nice really”.
but this place, so this must be the place.
the counter goes round and round, i should be hearing portishead, but i’m not, neither on the old bird nor the new, and i’m wondering if perhaps i’ve strained something in all this moving about (and, i remind you all again, leaving behind my golden commenting crown…)
she’s been MIA lately.
hey ‘mouse, looka me, i’m the king of the birdcage!!! (but don’t say anything, just look, or i won’t be up here anymore.)
i am: of ten good scriners there are nine and there seem to be three scriners signed in at present, so that would be boot, me and my mysterious asterisk; shhhhhhh—keith wants us to think he’s left the building.
As she stopped in the doorway to turn off the lights she looked around the room whimsically, breathed a little sigh and turned her back on all of it.
Over the course of his multi-year thesis study, Shapiro had discovered that 97.3 percent of women “strongly disagreed” with the sentence, “Nearly all women become their mothers,” and several had even reacted violently to the question, pummeling him with his own clipboard, yet only four percent of married men chose any response other than “agree” or “strongly agree.”
Because I want to kiss them all for this: goliard’s house
mouse on duck, bake on duck, goli on duck, geez, give the bird a break! (e on duck)
Tom was relieved, after a lifetime of spiritual wandering, when he finally found his way…unfortunately, it turned out to be someone else’s way, and he was forced to give it back.
for Friday the 13th but where is Imaginary Keith, did anybody get him outta the closet?—you know how absorbed he gets gazing at the pickle bottle.
Keith, I really need a new fence.
When Clare woke to the 26th consecutive day of Seattle rain, she thought she’d go crazy; instead, she went to California.
I’m bored with writing ‘test’ or variants thereof, so this time I ask the big question; is scrine made of cheese?
Even though it contains pecans, chocolate, espresso, eggs and even a bit of butter, it is still much lower in fat than the average pecan-chocolate-espresso-egg-butter dessert; even though it is of a reduced fat content, it is so luscious in the mouth that you would cry, if only you weren’t so busy smiling.
Okay, before anyone gets any ideas, I’m going to nip this in the bud (or start the silliness, one or the other), because if I don’t speak up now, pretty soon someone’s going to steal my idea and start posting titles just for the fun it creates in the recent-comments column, such as “foot” so boot comments and we see “boot on foot,” “cedars” so we can have “snow on cedars”, “keith action” for the resultant “keith on keith action,” and so on.
Since mouse stole my ‘boot on foot’ idea, I thought I’d try this one on for size.
This is fun.
You know where this one’s leading…
It’s a nasty little trap, there’s nowhere you can run, no one you an call for help and no way to leave your own trap; indeed, there is no solution for our hero… or is there?
Just call me mint sauce.
You might think that it would be a good idea to make a maple-walnut pie using your best pecan pie recipe, substituting walnuts for pecans and extra-strong maple syrup for the Lyle’s golden syrup, but it really is not.
After the fifth conversation of the day in which the replies she received bore little or no relation to the statements she gave, Jen began to wonder if she had suffered some form of quiet brain damage, and if what sounded like normal discourse in her mind was actually so much gibberish in the ears of the world.
that little cursive squiggle e is how i sign my name, and how i started getting called e in the first place so it looks like this is a good place for me (or, when i was stuck on the m-less keyboard that would have come out a good place for e, which amounts to much the same thing.)
I’ve begun to crave simple boredom.
check yer blogrolls: i have it on good authority that two (2) scriners—one with a much coveted camera complete with the associated skills and the other with a small rabbit—are, this very weekend and probably even as i type, evacuating southward into the bay area to escape le deluge for awhile: 1)search mission, 2)meetup and reconnoiter, 3)post pictures (i’ve always wanted to observe reconnoitering.)
You’d think a week of nothing would lead up to something, but it doesn’t.
Why does it make me so sad to realize that my children share none of my memories of them as babies?
Spent the first part of the week mourning the frogs’ passing, and now I understand that the polar bears are on their way out, too.
i heard this morning, on the radio no less (albeit on a holiday, but then the university owns the radio station) that the university from which i recently was separated just fired three people, a director, assistant and clerk, from a department that, erm, misplaced six figures’ worth of checks amounting to more than half their yearly budget, where “misplaced” means, um, well, misplaced: the checks were found, expired from cashability, stuck in folders and under various things probably for the better part of a year or more, i would imagine from my intimate knowledge of the way things work there, this being the place that “downsized” me because i was too inflexible and “old school” and they wanted to do it their way, remember.
What might be good for what I anticipate to be upcoming months of sheer hell, might be some kind of library I keep for myself of Things That Would Cheer Me Up, No Matter What.
“You would find the standards you set for yourself unduly cruel if applied to others.”
Sometimes you’re the bug. (Dire Straits)