“Boy or girl?” asked the vet of an increasingly concerned pet-owner who responded seriously “It’s a rabbit.”
Charged with numerous counts of copyright infringement by SOCAN, Canadian hairdresser, Beatrice M., demanded to know how much money went to Olivia every time she played her “Let’s Get Physical” CD while she gave perms.
Her fairy godmother wrapped her wings gently over her head, muffling all the sound, though she could still peek through the feathers.
When a driver whose car already has a dent in the rear fender would like to move into one’s lane, one should let him in.
The service was so prompt, and the servers so friendly, that I couldn’t bear to tell them that a) blintzes should not be folded in half, like tacos; b) blintz filling should not have the texture of cinnamon bun glaze; and c) blintz batter should not be bright orange in color.
Nathaniel remembered how, at bedtime, his mother used to pretend to pick all the nightmares out of the dreamcatcher on his wall, place them carefully in the pocket of her robe, and then go to the front door and fling every one of them into the evening breeze.
Walter found that after five years of counseling and gradual aversion therapy, he could finally listen to a full three minutes of saxophone-intense jazz without screaming and running from the room.
If you have to pee immediately before shaking someone’s hand, is it better to wash one’s hands—resulting in a handshake that’s likely cold and a little damp no matter how well you towel off—or is it better to skip the handwashing figuring a firm, confident, non-clammy handshake is important and what they don’t know can’t hurt ‘em?
Assuming your answer to the first question was “skip handwashing,” then should you flush the old-fashioned urinal (where you have to touch the handle), or leave it to mellow, figuring that, hey, at least I know my junk is clean, but god-knows-what might be on that handle?
For the rest of her life, she would never again look at a firm, confident, non-clammy handshake in quite the same way.
“I don’t trust lawyers,” Henry told his friend, “but only because of their bathroom habits.”
“Hands… washing… wash hands first… urine, no, clean, yes…”
If I have to shake a clammy hand, I would much prefer that it is because it is newly clean and not because the owner had just finished cleaning puke as a result of their child’s adverse reaction to raw oysters.
She is the picture of perfection, the realisation of life, the embodiment of true love; she is beautiful and, above all, she is loved.
As Bronwyn stared down at her tummy bump, she contemplated doing a few hundred reverse crunches in her cubicle; fortunately, she remembered that the office might be on reduced staff, but there were staff present nonetheless, and no matter how often she joked to the contrary, she didn’t really want to horrify any of her co-workers into a coma.
In Heaven, the word “rapper” literally means “rapture head,” and doesn’t refer to a type of musician but rather one of the many people who had the misfortunate of having their head pop off during the rapture due to overeating while on Earth.
in the sixth week of summer, my bag of tricks quite empty and matching my wallet; the amenable children played happily with duct tape and a bag of straws.
It was hot enough to replace her brain with a thin, limp spongecake.
“One moment, gentlemen,” cried John Hancock, impetuously throwing a ruffled arm across the bottom of the parchment, “let us delay signing the Declaration of Independence until, say, Octoberish, when the weather will be far more temperate for parades.”
Perhaps the ladybugs mistook my large, sweaty forehead for the beach, for if I’m not mistaken, I’m sure I saw some of them arrive carrying full picnic baskets.
I can assure you, you are not the first person who thinks that 4:45pm on Friday afternoon or just before a vacation day is an excellent time to call your attorney.
We’re so happy we’re exploding stuff willy nilly.
The ladybug vroomed and vroomed as she awaited her spectral princess.
All you need is a witch and some children on the run.
Don’t be bored, it’s only the heat.
How will I master the tilinka if I don’t even know what it is?
It’s allegedly only 89 degrees outside, but it feels like at least 100.
[In the name of marital harmony, this sentence was never written, only thought.]
Today I feel exactly like I have a really nasty hangover, only I don’t recall drinking anything, but it’s entirely possible that I did and that in so doing I killed the braincell that was to store the memory of drinking too much.
If Leon learned one lesson that day, it was that you should never try to multitask by IMing your girlfried at the same time you text-message your wife.
I think I may just have realised why I initially felt such immediate affection for our very own ‘mouse.
Upon seeing the forecast, the Crazy 8’s Club immediately caught a bus for Salem.
I am assuming that those 125-degree temperatures I read about in the elevator this morning pertain to the Nevadan and Arizonan deserts, and not to my friends in the land of milk and honey—but please be careful anyway, yinz guys.
Although I could not find “tilinka” in my Webster’s New College Dictionary, I did find “usufruct,” a word which I love so much that I want to drop it into all future conversations.
Blogging would appear to combine the best features of masturbation and the good old-fashioned enema…but without most of the distasteful mess.
“Can I ask you what that is you’re making?,” said the nice young counter fellow at the taqueria; as Bronwyn launched into her standard knitting-in-public refrain, she realized that 1) the heel side, i.e. the visibly-recognizable-as-sock side, was facing her, and 2)the side that faced out, toward the taqueria counter, looked nothing like a sock, but rather something much, much ruder.
Suddenly, a cool breeze floated gently through the house.
Fingers; can you get anything more amazing?
Any book read following the completion of a truly great book is doomed before it’s started.
The little paperback trembled slightly as the forlorn woman foraged amongst the bookshelves.
After careful deliberation, I have concluded that the light at the end of the tunnel is, indeed, a train.
The only way it could be better would be if it were 08/08/08, eh Boot?
There being no discernable humidity in Northern California, even the hottest days end abruptly as soon as the sun goes down.
57,884 songs and nothing to listen to.
Juan was excited to discover the big old metal first-aid kit in the office cupboard but disappointed when there was no chocolate inside and the the only alcohol it contained was labeled “Poison - Do Not Drink!” a warning he had no choice but to ignore.
Humans, on average experience about 16 years of childhood followed by as much as 60 years of adultery.
Wayne had seen the trademark “Change Daily(tm)” in his Joe Boxer underwear at least 1000 times, but it still made him smile every time.
I came home from the market with two pounds of Papa Amarilla potatoes, the best potatoes in the world; a bag of wild arugula; a bag of sugar snaps; three pounds of tomatoes; a dozen eggs; two pints of red currants and two pints of white currants, which made me sing; three half-pints of gooseberries, for gooseberry curd; a pound of green beans; two quarts of whole milk, a quart of yogurt (to be used as the starter for future yogurt); three little nosegays of basil and some staples from the deli (Parmigiano-Reggiano, olive oil, and a staggering quantity of pignoli nuts), but I neglected to bring home the energy required to turn any of this stuff into dinner.
Oh, the audacity of the city, fogged and cold on a July day; she saw people in down coats and knitted hats, and shivered in her own denim jacket.
“Bing, I’ve decided to name the new cherry after you,” Seth Lewelling told his trusted Manchurian orchard foreman, “and while you might think I’m doing this because of your many years of dedication and hard work, you would be wrong if you did, because Bing, my good man, like it or not, I find you and the cherry share one thing in common - manageable pits.
A better list maker than speller, I notice my son’s plan for an upcoming trip includes a reminder not to forget his toilet trees.
Forlorn and lost, head spiraling elliptic,
Cries piercing dark night - idyllic! idyllic!
Left to his own devices, Lester soon grew excessively hairy.
Realizing the extreme magnitude of her error, June wondered if anyone sold karmic indulgences, preferably in a big-box, warehouse-store size.
And then sometimes there is a day when everything comes unraveled, when things fold their wings and die whimpering.
Wanted: Something to fill the emptiness and stop the pain.
Juan, who only knew a few words of Spanish, was pleased to discover that he was able to competently buy the seedless (“sinsemilla”) mandarin orange tree he wanted from the Mexican nursery.
Over on Jo’s blog there is a ‘real’ person named ‘Ms Jane’ whose birthday recently occurred, which got me to wondering whether my fictional Miss Jane had a birthday and just what the date might be…
“Look, lady, your voice is annoying me so much that I will give you this finely brewed coffee if only you will stop talking.”
“Tofo that tastes ‘off’ may lead to gastric distress.”
The glorious sentence that bloomed in the night evaporated with the morning dew.
I am dissipation and mist; I wander rootless; I am swift vengeance upon you, from nowhere and everywhere.
Henry wasn’t sure which made him more uncomfortable: the idea of Baptist Hell or finding out that his Grandma had once been considered “Hotter than Baptist Hell.”
Enlightenment is so close I can smell it… oh, wait, that’s burnt coffee in the pot I forgot to turn off, nevermind.
‘mouse smoothed his lyrca tights over his butt enhancing underwear and wondered idly what other people wore to their enlightments.
“This is much harder than I thought,” ‘mouse said to no one in particular, and continued writing, “Chicory coffee, beignets, chocolate truffles, guacamole, barbecue ribs, homemade ice cream, anzac biscuits… what am I forgetting… oh, right, mango!”
Oh, shit, I need a soundtrack for enlightenment, ‘mouse thought, flipping a quickly as he could through his MP3 library, what to choose, what to choose?
‘mouse blinked awake with a start from the dream where a small rodent was walking back and forth in front of his house holding a sign that said, “The End is Nigh,”—how can I sleep at a momentous time like this?
Though I love her dearly, I will never again take lunch recommendations from a woman who believes that “matcha green tea boost” fruit smoothies can align your fourth chakra.
“Oh, baby, enlighten me… enlighten me harder… make me think real hard—that’s it, I’m thinking!, I’m thinking!…I’m…!”
Swimming has never been so surprising, nor beautiful.
Dawn quickly scattered her rose petals across the sky and disappeared into the sunrise.
Do I really need a lawyer?
Hiding in the electric lines, the demon destroyed the toaster, two coffeemakers and the dishwasher (twice) in just three months.
Enlightenment reached out and tickled him with her featherlight touch.
“Of course, Arthur,” replied Merlin, weaving slightly on his feet as he raised his voice in the hall to be heard above the clinking of mead goblets, “a young man like you in his prime, freshly crowned King, ought to take a wife at this time - and I have forseen the very one: the beauteous Guenevere, daughter of Leodegrance, you remember him, guy with all the real estate - and she (for a while) she will be a great credit to you as queen … until” - the wizard paused for a quick swallow of mead - “she falls in love with your best friend - no, not that one, dimwit, the other one - and the scandal erodes both your legendary confidence and your credibility as monarch over a united land, and causes your kingdom to fall, until in the end both you and England are a mere husk of your former selves - but hey, if you’re sure about this, let’s get on the road and fetch that bride!”
Watching the clock doesn’t bring the future about any faster, but putting words on screen and periods where they belong are steps on the journey toward… “Hey, why are we all in this handbasket and why is it getting so hot in here!”
The fifth sentence posted to Scrine, and ‘mouse’s first was, “I’m saving my first sentence until I think of something really insightful to say.”
From coast to coast, from continent to continent, all fell silent and waited for the telltale click that would signify the rollover.
Paging through Christopher Moore’s “Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal,” ‘mouse found the section he’d been looking for, which read, “…when one reaches the place of Buddhahood and realizes there is no Buddha because everything is Buddha, when one reaches enlightenment, but make a decision that he will not evolve to nirvana until all sentient beings have preceded him there, then he is a bodhisattva,” upon which, ‘mouse, unable to think of any better last words said, “So long and thanks for all the [garbled],” and disappeared with a slight popping noise.
Every object holds a memory, and in a way, the happy ones are more painful than the sad.
Clearly, as anyone will tell you, a heated toilet seat is not a need but I’ve gotta tell you, when the alternative is ascending the throne in a room where the temperature is approaching 0 degrees Celsius (and probably from the wrong side) my convictions on that matter begin to waver.
Jeremiah looked out the window at the fog sticking to the world. He pondered the meaning of things: Were to lose one friend for another, to give up something just as it become atainable, to dismiss something just as it becomes intruiging…were that the meaning… To distinguish from those who would stand behind their previous assumptions and those who would abandon them for meaning which…may not make more sense but may be more satisfying.
Sure the books are good, but I like browsing the quiet.
If my cat really liked me, she wouldn’t sleep in my office while I worked.
If my dog really liked me, she wouldn’t jingle her tags in my ear at 4:00 every morning.
Happy to exchange mangoes and margaritas for information on the whereabouts of our wise and pooky ‘mouse.
As the whiskery, pooky and soggy man entered the gloom, he thought he could make out a glittering and tall mound of ice which seemed to contain a girl of many colours and shapes.
HUMANS
NEXT 56 YRS
PROCEED WITH KINDNESS
Been there
done that
highly overrated
music’s better here
the dance goes on
people
playful imaginations
draw me back
inevitably
bodhisattva of mangoes
margaritas
all seek enlightenment together
I’m glad the sun comes up without any real effort on my part.
Who brings three bags of loose tea to work, for the brewing of impossibly fragrant and beautiful iced teas, and then leaves her tea strainer at home?
Enlightenment tickles.
Sure, it seemed insightful, whimsical and witty at 12.02, but it was probably just about ducks.
I’m STARVING….I so need an apple.
“What many people don’t know is that ‘fool’ comes from the French verb fouler, to crush; it’s not a description of someone prepared to pay the price of half a pint of cream.”
“Egg custard is an honourable, and an ancient alternative to cream; commercial powder custard is not…(i)t’s better to halve the quantities, than to serve a great floury bowlful.”
Hating to take out the trash, Henry developed an almost uncanny ability to balance anything and everything atop the small kitchen can, although in retrospect, he soon realized that the talent brought him little satisfaction, and certainly no respect.
More time wouldn’t help; I just need less of the things that fill it.
/begin fantasy/ The sun is shining, a slight breeze is blowing, the lawnmower is broken, the beer is cold and a hammock hangs invitingly in the shade. /end fantasy/
Is the river moving, or are we?
Sunday always gets in the way.