don’t you hate it, when being a grownup has you all serious and shit, has you all worried and confused, has you slowing down past the pawn shop knowing that that water bill has to get paid somehow, thinking, at that next stoplight, you better start digging for change in order to dig up the six dollars necessary to get a gallon of gas in your worn down dirty old car, enough to get you home in time to make dinner out of lemons and ricotta and lucky charms: it keeps you doing crazy things, like spurning the blog that loved you, like looking so hard for a vacation that you’ll even settle for a virtual vacation, to some far off name that hasn’t been tarnished by that reputation for falling for the bad guys, for poking and prodding just long enough to find the holes in their armor and then running and crying like a little girl whose fairytale has just been punctured, whose aesop’s fables have just come to life at midnight when the door to her room is closed and she’s given up the night light after decided she was too old for that, somewhere along the line all those long winded morals got in the way of her love for the fairytales…
Tearing away the coverings, a blood-curdling scream of horror ripped from her throat as her mind registered the mangled leafy remains and bits of hard orange flesh that had lain hidden beneath the football patterned blanket, and as she slid down the floor in hysterics she realized with shock that there had, in fact, been a rabbit in Juniors closet after all.
It certainly is hard to get up on stage after a sensuous and labyrinthine sentence, so I’ll keep it short; there is no other green like new spring green to make a person feel that everything just might be okay, despite the Republicans.
The most challenging aspect of Emily’s job was in constantly tamping down the knowledge of how screamingly pointless her daily work was.
...you download 238 messages from one of your mailing lists and they are all about the meaning of the word “uber”....and you are tempted to read them.
“I wish you were here,” Rasputina whispered into the phone, hungry for both Cake and the guitar man.
Yet another great reason to learn German.
I once drove to Hot Springs, Arkansas with a friend and met a man who suffered multiple personality disorder; well, to be even more precise, I actually met him twice.
The rainbow line of socks for hire swayed gently on the fence, seemingly aquiver with anticipation and foreboding.
I was asked to an event and it sounded like fun but the invitation insisted, “No shorts, no sneakers, no jeans,” so I said no thanks.
Once upon a time, this was a true story.
It’s a three-paycheck month, at last!
Henry had warned the cat on many occasions that the coffee maker was off limits, and felt no remorse whatsover about driving her down to the taxidermy shop to ‘teach her a good lesson’, when the cat, in spite of her apparent destiny, had taken the time to fasten her seatbelt, calmly reminded Henry that the taxidermist took only dead animals, then letting her claws slowly slide out, suggested that maybe it would be nice if they pulled in somewhere for a cup of hot coffee before turning around and heading home.
“My human just keeps crashing to the sky!” yelled Timmy, so frustrated that he stomped off, leaving the human floating where in hit.
As inspired by: steve's priorities
I’ve mostly given up on garage sales, considering how I already own more than enough junk to hold me over, but last week I did spot a nice clip-on tie and thought, “Hmmmm, I don’t have one of those.”
At three in the morning, sick with the flu and filled with enough Tylenol PM to tranquilize an Elephant, ‘Uhura’ sounds dangerously close to ‘Urethra’.
The author would like you to please buy this book at retail price; but at the very least, he would appreciate it if you would rescue it from the bargain bin whenever possible.
Some of my best, absolutely best, ideas come for that loveably drowsy state that NyQuil puts me in, like Advent Veritas which is going absolutely nowhere—fast.
Life does, in fact, immitate art.
..but every once in a while someone is asked why only to reply ‘because the stars told me to’, whether they meant the constellation of sagittarius or ricky martin is anyone’s guess.
“And just this morning the MTA made a big noise about using the subways to evacuate the city in the event of a hurricane; now I wouldn’t trust them to evacuate us with Fleet enemas.”
“I would not trust them to fix me a cheese sandwich if I were starving.”
and whiskey were the magical combination: suddenly, ‘Poof’, she was queen of the slipstream once again.
Around here, we believe in both cleanliness and godliness, and try our best once a week to cram both of them into the same single hurried hour, usually on Saturday.
Vacuum, is that you hiding under that pile of dust?
“It started- my reading that is— innocently enough, and then it infiltratred. it didn’t replace living; it infused it, till the two became inextricable, like the molecules of hydrogen and oxygen in a bead of water. To part them could take violent and possibly lethal mean, a spiritual electrolysis”.
From Let’s Get It Started, to Turn This Mutha Out, and Pray, Too Legit To Quit, It’s a All Good and U Can’t Touch This, I bring the heat.
After conducting years of research, I have concluded there are three kinds of beer in the world: First, the kind you drink on a beach in a tropical location while on vacation; second, the kind you have after a completely exhausting 12-hour day of physical labor; and third, all the others—the first two are absolutely excellent, while the last is merely great.
Snapped out of his deep concentration by a flick to his ear, Jimmy blushed with shame when his mother grabbed him by the arm, snatched away the stick, and pulled him towards the house scolding, “How many times do I have to tell you, Hobos are not for poking!”
Tearing away the coverings, a blood-curdling scream of horror ripped from her throat as her mind registered the mangled leafy remains and bits of hard orange flesh that had lain hidden beneath the football patterned blanket, and as she slid down the floor in hysterics she realized with shock that there had, in fact, been a rabbit in Juniors closet after all.
Does that mean a bunking party of ten, year old boys, ten-year-old boys, or that the bunking party feels like it’s been going on for ten years?
With young boys you need to expect the jokes, such as tonight’s about the three moles who pop out of the ground, the first one saying, “I smell syrup,” then the second one saying, “I smell syrup,” and finally the third mole at the end of the line saying, “That’s funny, all I smell is molasses.”
With the culprits under arrest, and the back scratcher returned to its rightful owner, peace once again returned to the tiny village.
Emmeline and Florence bobbed nervously along the between the rows of lettuce, occasionally peeking backwards to be sure they weren’t being followed.
The little girl stood trembling at the top of the monstrously tall, scalding hot and gun-metal grey slippery dip, wondering how she’d ever get down from the nightmare, when suddenly a white-scaled, rainbow-feathered dragon came giggling and jingling out of a rip in the sky, swooped down towards her and plucked her out of the air.
“I thought you’d be more loving,” Timmy told the turtle as he dropped it into the lake.
Associated Press has reported that tomorrow, 6-6-6, marks the apocalypse: 1) I do hope Boot will let us know how it’s going, and 2) Whatcha doing today, given that tomorrow all the really obnoxious people disappear and we can plan a party without them?
to begin the plans for Apocalypse Day (i’ll bring the heavy duty tinfoil).
Please report your apocalyptic news here.
He really didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground, and was afraid to ask.
Because the apocalypse unexpectedly turned out to be a sunny, happy event, it was mostly only the pessimists who complained.
It had started out like any usual sunny, slightly cool day, when suddenly a few clouds rolled in and it got quite a bit colder.
People are dumb.
There was no apocalypse, grandpa had just eaten far too many beans.
Carl’s only superhero power was his ability to make very good strawberry shakes, which made him very popular with the kids, who especially liked the way he’d pull fresh straws from his utility belt.
we’ll be burning one.
People are nice.
More proof that the goddess in charge loves tropical countries best.
where i am posting an hour ahead of myself and therefore have 40 more minutes at least to finish playing Pong on my new iPod (and did my house just fall on a witch)?
People are mediocre.
“Yes, it’s unfortunate that we can’t tell Henry the truth about the illusion,” God told the students of Miss Smith’s 4th grade angel class, “but he must struggle to keep his shit together like all the rest of them.”
As inspired by: Keith's Henry’s Illusion
The students giggled into their wings, not only because it wasn’t often they had a chance to hear God say ‘shit’, but because every angel knew, right down to the tiniest little kindergarten angels who still brought their cloud mats to school for nap time, that Henry had the worst luck of any human ever, which every angel could have told you (except maybe the kindergarten angels, who only went to school half-days) is a very, very long time.
As inspired by: Keith's The Angels Giggle
“Yes, Henry will join us here one day,” God told the angel students, “but if you want to see him, you’ll have to be quick, because if I remember correctly, he slips on a banana peel or some such silliness and falls over the edge on only his second or third day here.”
It is said around here that you have a better chance of being attacked by a mountain lion than you do of winning the lottery, so I was thinking of sending my former husband out into the hills with a porkchop tied around his neck to see if that improves my chances of winning.
The apocalypse may have been a bit of a fizzler, but Dorothy and Becky took much consolation from the delicious blueberry crumble pie.
As inspired by: boot's blueberry crumble of the apocalypse
The apocalypse thought to itself, “First I fool them into eating some of my delicious blueberry crumble…”
As inspired by: steve's secret plan
… “oooh, it does look good, maybe I’ll try a little piece for myself,” thought the doomed apocalypse.
People are perfunctory.
As inspired by: boot's some plans are doomed to fail
“Dammit,” thought the devil, “they’ll never believe I was the one who suggested ice cream!”
As inspired by: Keith's Dammit!
Apocalypse turned to the devil and grumbled “what next, chocolate sauce!?”
And suddenly it seemed that Greased Lightnin’ had become a little too greased by the T-Birds, eventually contributing to it’s downfall off the cliff of Lovahs Leap.
But today has been a complete bust in the End-of-the-World department.
People are furry.
The filthy lucre isn’t flowing fast enough to grease the wheels around here, and we’ve encountered major snags in our plan to fix everything.
I hear there’s a place where ten men do the work of one, and if you just decide you’d like to lie down and do nothing, no one says a word, but just goes on about their business, which isn’t much of anything.
Harry always told people that it was the stupidest thing he’d ever seen, but secretly, he was jealous of Tim’s pet walrus.
The banana rustlers continued to give authorities the slip.
After ten years of careful scientific study, Patrick S., esq. has published his report concluding that neither lucky ties nor lucky underwear have any affect on success in the courtroom.
Peoople are heavy.
Remember how in The Matrix a glitch in the system meant that an agent was coming, well, I’m pretty sure there’s an agent coming to fight me because I keep eating hot wings and they keep hurting my stomach, and it keeps happening over and over.
Minimalist Jones would sometimes watch trials,
To help him, he’d say, better understand smiles;
“In order to measure the smile’s effluence,
I note numbers of teeth, and things like congruence.”
Last month I had a good belly laugh at a horribly designed and badly built house on an unimpressive lot listed for $1.995 million; today the “recent sales” report came and it sold for $2.4 million.
They’re saying now that crows have human-like intelligence, but after reading the article, it sounds like this mostly means they have the ability to play tricks and lie.
“George presents with a moderate articulation problem secondary to weak tongue musculature from thumb sucking and fluid bilaterally in ears.”
People are nasty.
People are hungry.
I’d kill for a coconut creme pie.
People are wet.
i’m thinking of taking up taxi driving: while taking the kids back and forth and forth and back and travelling the same square mile for nearly an hour, i realized, i should be paid for this, and then, to make things worse, i was paid; for the chaffeuring (i threw the black and white nudie in for free).
To know that in 9 days it will be our Anniversary had we stayed together, and two months after will be the anniversary of our death, and that you wont speak to me untill our death has spent a year on its own…that kills me.
Now that his glockenspiel days were safely behind him, Emil was free to roam the land.
First understand crows, then learn how to call crows so you can shoot them; or is it the other way around?
If anyone has seen my cheerful attitude and sunny, optimistic disposition, please return them tonight while I am asleep—no questions asked, reward.
Oh, yes, I enjoy winter, after all, it’s cold, but it’s quite mild here, but please, please, please can’t I just go forward a few months, get some mangoes and come straight back again.
People are people.
As inspired by: boot's midlife thought
Becky huddled quietly in the corner of the ceiling, giggling behind her sinuous fingers, and as the various ‘people’ walked by they found themselves suddenly and brilliantly transformed into all manner of creatures, especially mouses, coyotes, ducks, drop bears, scrinebirds and elephants.
be perfect, nor should I have been perfect…mistakes are in my human nature, for I am human…So why is taking responsibility for this so hard…Is is because I should be better than everyone else, because that pristine pedestal you had of me shattered, or is it because, even though I thought I was doing what I thought was right only to find out it was a horrible mistake, you got hurt above all others?
I once took a trip to Key West and drank my way through Mallory Square for three nights in a row, I remember little about this trip except for glimpses of bars, drunken handshakes with a blues singer named Mo, and a rather disappointing key lime pie.
Faced with only a limited number of hours in the day, Julie decided that she could forgo reading the morning newspaper and get all the news she needed from Scrine.
Because when I say it, it’s not shameless self-promotion, it’s a public service announcement: Rhubarb Strawberry Jam is available at Bakerina Kitchens!!!
“Tigers don’t go out on rainy nights;
They don’t need to wet their appetites!”
“They bite, they scratch, they make an awful fuss;
no use stroking them or saying ‘puss, puss, puss’!”
I know a mouse and he hasn’t got a house,
I don’t know why I call him Gerald;
He’s getting rather old but he’s a good mouse.
He rolls away from her, fumbling with pants and belt, and while he’s doing this feels her arm come around his shoulders and the amazing warmth of that small body snugged up behind him, and he holds still, and so does she, the two of them silent at the feet of the Buddha while a velvet calm comes over him and he decides Clara hasn’t been laughing at him after all, that she’s a small vessel for huge emotions that race through her in bewildering succession and almost without her notice, and laying this way for some minutes he feels her arm relaxing in sleep, this sleepless star, pursued across the nights by visions that won’t let her escape until daybreak when she can reenter the world of make-believe.
Cyrus’ levitation powers had grown weak, and the mug floating across the room towards him jiggled and shook, spilling half the coffee onto the carpet.
“There’s a river of love that runs through all times,” sang T-Bone Burnett, and at that moment Bronwyn knew exactly what Turgenev meant when he said that there were some emotions that could not be expressed in words, only evoked in music.
She collected the odd bits of time between events in her day, rolled them into a ball, and was able to eke out one more batch than usual by the time the stars came out.
Because Ted was the only member of the Toddville, Iowa chapter of Moosing Around™, the club for men who enjoy goosing other men, the monthly meetings were almost always boring.
“The rumor around town is that Carl’s stopped eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” the sheriff told his deputies, “but that could just be diner talk; but just in case, I want everyone on their toes out there this morning, especially you, Pete.”
You pass the line of people queued up for the soup kitchen at the church down the block from your subway station, and you notice that the line has become longer in recent years, filled with men of varying ages, races, sizes, and states of health, some homeless, some working poor, some lost in their own world, some chatting amiably with their neighbors, no two alike, brought together because they have fallen on hard times, and they are hungry; you think about the circumstances that led them here, and you wonder exactly how many paychecks away you are from being here with them, and what exactly would be running through your mind if you found yourself here; then someone on the line makes a snide comment about your ass.
As inspired by: bakerina's desolation: a definition
“I guess things could be worse,” said Juan to his dinner of cheesesticks and Coco-Cola, as he contemplated the remainder of his 16-hour workday, “I could be that poor woman walking down the street after a hard day who’s being hassled by some guys in a soup kitchen line… or I could be one of those clueless men who somehow thinks that being in that line makes it okay to be an asshole.”