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Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Waking up this morning to another vision of mid-packing chaos, I wondered again whether we were doing the right thing; five minutes later, I found proof of rodent intrusion into our living room at the exact same moment that Lloyd announced that an enormous cockroach had staggered in from the apartment-under-construction next door and died in our bathtub.

In the past hour, I’ve managed to burn my finger, give myself a colossal sinus headache, accidentally pack a library book into a box of books destined for a month of storage and 10 days of cross-country travel, and drop a small but surprisingly heavy external hard drive onto my head from a distance of four feet; I wonder if this is my apartment’s way of telling me that it’s sick to death of the sight of me, and I really should go to the library now.


I need new elves.


Rockabilly is prozac administered aurally - a sure cure for most common forms of depression.

On This Day :: My Bitter Vicissitude :: 5

Some days defying gravity is impossible even when you have a fully charged jet pack at your disposal.


Dr. Dj. :: 'mouse :: 0

Henry smiled at the misprint on his new business cards which read “Dr. Henry” instead of “DJ. Henry” and went back to mixing that perfect mix of blues, rock, jazz, funk and much more that’ll cure what ails you.


If you enter the ladies room, and can’t pee without getting naked, you’re wearing the wrong outfit for work.


Archaeologists attributed the disturbing graffiti scrawled inside the ruins of the 21st century government buildings to the psychotic episodes that accompanied the mandatory 10-hour workday.


Muriel did not want to buy a home security system from the salesman at her door, but she was loathe to tell him she had no alternative in place, in case word got around.


Yes, that is a banana in my pocket, and no, I am not happy to see you.


Next day :: pam :: 0

Muriel wished the dog would save its most alarming bark for the inevitable evening when the jilted security alarm salesman staged a home invasion robbery.


And the betrayal cut deeper than the sharpest knife…


“I don’t really eat chocolate at all and rarely eat cookies.”


As inspired by: guest scriner-Stephen, my best friend in college

Stephen and I once had a running competition about funny ways we could express our depression; he won by answering the phone one day, “I just took my head out of the toilet long enough to say hello.”


People are never who we think they are and rarely who they think they might be.


“The site [Scrine] also has a library of eclectic music and a Wiki consisting of information so absurd and mind-blowingly inaccurate that spending too much time there results in noticeable IQ shrinkage.”


So apparently one does not get a California driver’s license merely by surrendering one’s out-of-state license, but rather by surrendering one’s license, showing one’s passport, successfully passing the 36-question written test and, at the state’s discretion, taking a driving test as well—all within 10 days of establishing employment and/or residency.


Lame :: bakerina :: 0

I just realized that I have not parallel-parked in 20 years.


The chief wasted no time on calculations regarding his terrible salary, since the way he saw it, anything was better than the weight of 144 cubic feet of Oregon soil bearing down on his chest.


Jan van de Boer tried explaining to his mother that he was not an atheist, but rather, a joyfully agnostic Gnostic who believes in evolution- a theory she sums up uncharitably as “monkeys wearing pants.”


Each night Sarah Chalke comes into my room dressed in her worn, blue scrubs and eats pudding off my stomach.


Wednesday, July 02, 2008

If everyone in your life is there for a reason, his reason is/was to make me realize my full potential as an alcoholic.


In the midst of the summer heat wave, no one noticed as Tammy’s movements grew slower and slower until she became a solid frozen ice block in her back-corner air-conditioned freezer cubicle.


Sometimes, lost friends are found again.


I have finaly accepted that there is neither a Pulitzer nor a Nobel prize waiting for me - so now what should I do?


soaring :: boot :: 0

Flying has its delights, but sometimes one if the greatest is knowing you can finally land.


“Sometimes I agree with you that women can overthink emotional issues, whereas guys can go out back, pee standing up, come inside and order two more beers, and hey presto, things are cool.”


pithy :: boot :: 2

It’s one of those words that always reminds me of fruit.


“Nothing brings the real air of a Tuscan town so vividly to mind as those pieces of pale blue and white earthenware, by which he is best known, like fragments of the milky sky itself, fallen into the cool streets.”


While my cat often gives sound advice, I never follow it because generally I don’t trust anyone who regularly bathes using her own tongue to tell me how to live my live.


Thursday, July 03, 2008

It was one of the dirtiest little secrets of botany; “It was a catastrophic sexual mutation!”


When you just can’t take it anymore, there’s Happy Hour: When Happy Hour turns into Happy Night, drink 180.


To do list :: pam :: 0

Same shit, different day __check__


As inspired by: YCCMS's Introduction to Black Hockey Jesus -- don't ask me, look for yourself

Life is better with The Wind in Your Vagina.


Our next president and Congress need to support the kinds of tried and tested solutions that will enable poor Americans to gain better economic security.


help! :: e :: 4

i am spending all day on a computer!


the birds :: e :: 0

twitterers must be expanding their feeding grounds as just this morning i wrote a whole scrine that seems disappeared about today being something of an anniversary so maybe real life could return now after all; i guess not.


In the past hour, I’ve managed to burn my finger, give myself a colossal sinus headache, accidentally pack a library book into a box of books destined for a month of storage and 10 days of cross-country travel, and drop a small but surprisingly heavy external hard drive onto my head from a distance of four feet; I wonder if this is my apartment’s way of telling me that it’s sick to death of the sight of me, and I really should go to the library now.


A Cute Age :: Jo :: 6

What to get a 42-year-old who has everything?


Judith had been psychic most of her life, but at heart she was a homebody; she never used her power to glide into and out of the timestream on mundane things like betting on the horses, but whenever she got a bit tipsy at the Thanksgiving table, she would begin to recite the names of everyone’s future progeny clear out to eight or nine generations.


I might not know what will be in my first book, but I now know the title.


Whoopsie!


Friday, July 04, 2008

Rufus thought that the glut of fireworks stands was an abomination and that something had to be done, and my friend Schuster said he couldn’t agree more, adding that there was just absolutely no use in selling explosives that couldn’t knock the lock of a bank safe.


This year, I will make a point of telling the next British person who tells me, sneeringly, “leave it to Americans to make happiness a Constitutional right” that s/he should recheck his/her sources, and rethink his/her rhetorical zingers accordingly.


Later, we shall eat fried chicken.


Judging from the various strains of Mexican polka music out there, the whole neighborhood is having a party and they didn’t invite me.


Why must I be present when all bad wrecks occur?


It was the usual cliched Bollywood plot: boy meets girl; girl ignores boy; boy follows his heart and girl into countryside; bandits attack girl; girl conjures Cthuhlu; spontaneous singing; Cthulhlu eats bandits, boy, and girl; ends with a dance number.


Saturday, July 05, 2008

As I sat listening to the television and surfing the net, I came to the realization that Andy Griffin (Griffith..Idk) sounds EXACTLY like my grandfather…


WARNING: THIS is not something you should play at work…unless you are a sailor.


I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I do so look forward to the day when the most pressing issue to ponder on a weekend is whether or not my homework is finished.


Easy One :: Jo :: 1

A 12-year-old with a cell phone is like what with a banana?


Sunday, July 06, 2008

Rufus thinks that Schuster’s ego is the size of Texas, and that it probably stalks the streets at night, pounding its chest as it humps stop signs because of some warped sense of irony, but my friend Schuster kindly pointed out that they were discussing Rufus’ ego, and that if they could convince Rufus’ mother to take it out of the tupperware container she kept in her purse, he just might be able to describe what it is he was seeing.


Sure Things :: Jo :: 2

One thing I know is that you can’t get a job without applying; it’s like the lottery, or sex.


Monday, July 07, 2008

Over the years, I have become increasingly particular about pens, coffee mugs, and women.


Henry sometimes worried that love was just the result of some unknown chemical interaction that transpired between the human body and the energy of the sun’s rays, and that each night, as the sun disappeared, that interaction would slowly dissipate, leaving behind the only beneficial byproduct that would save us from ourselves, sleep.


There is a care-worn king sitting on his throne, slumped to one side with chin planted firmly on fist, a scowl fixed nicely to his visage, and the words above him on this poster read:  YES, I’M PARANOID, BUT AM I PARANOID ENOUGH?!


Tammy returned to work on Monday with singed eyebrows, full of indefinable tubed meat, watermelon and potato salad, and wondering what freedom re-chained her to her desk for another week.


The chief remained straight-faced as 85 year old Doris complained about the squeaking bed of her young, upstairs neighbors, which began around midnight and didn’t let up until around 5 a.m.; “I don’t know what they could be up to jumping in and out of bed like that,” Doris complained, “but I suppose playing cards or something.”


The chief had high hopes that the Miss Marple in #418 was the one who could solve the mystery of who kept throwing soap in the fountain.


As inspired by: craigslist - Missed Connections

‘We were working out in the cardio section around 10pm, maybe a little later (I was not really paying attention to the clock); I was in between you and the mentally handicapped (yet tragically attractive) guy, he was making weird noises occasionally, he was really into his music.’


speechless :: boot :: 4

I wonder if words dream.


“Um do we have security for this party; cause I think we’re going to need someone to come out here and tell the groomsmen they can’t smoke pot here….how do I know they’re smoking pot… well I can smell it… how do I know what it smells like… well I went to college, but you can also tell because they’re passing the same joint … erm cigarette looking object around the circle… yes I’m sure it’s really pot and not just cigarettes.”


Tuesday, July 08, 2008

“When searching for good New Age practitioners, look for ones named Wolfstar or Moonberry.”


The chief was thankful that his armpits never smelled like Mr. Snell’s.


Right after I take a cold shower I’m planning on feeling guilty about not checking her ID, cuz I’m pretty sure what we did was as illegal as it was incredible.


Veronica imagined that her new corporate job would involve standing to attention each time her new boss passed her cube; how could it be otherwise?


Here’s why I love my neighborhood, and why I will miss it when we move:  Not only do people here grow their own grapes and figs and blackberries, they do it without writing big self-congratulatory essays in the New York Times food section about what rugged urban pioneers they are for growing actual fruit in New York City.


I would like to file obscenity charges against that white nectarine—it was obscenely good.


I’m whipping up a chocolate-espresso cheesecake tonight (yes, from scratch, how dare you ask me that, shame on you), a dessert so rich, so amazing in its artery-strangling perfection, that to simply gaze upon it invites madness.


One of my friends just set her gchat status to “needs a pool (or a job).”


Rufus thinks that it is next to impossible to torture a reliable confession out of anyone, but my friend Schuster disagrees, and says that he’s more than willing to prove this to Rufus.


I like to smoke my own duck.


The lonely chill was similar to something Fender had felt as a child, the day he realized that Cracker Jack had no real incentive to put good toys in their gold and red boxes anymore.


Lazy much? :: pam :: 0

As a matter of fact, I am waiting for someone to light a fire under me, thanks for asking - and I wish they’d hurry, because I’m getting damn tired of just dicking around here.


Stand tall stand strong, voices that care are crying from your pants.


When it comes to divorce Stephen Lynch is a fucking warrior!


As inspired by: Guest Scriner-Genevieve the Jaded

“You know,” she says with great confidence as she walks next to me on the sidewalk, “today is the last of the good”; her statement is so definitive, one can not question or even ask for more clarity because the moment I hear it, I know it is true.


Wednesday, July 09, 2008

Rufus thought that if a person was covered in feathers, he’d be able to slip out of the cop’s handcuffs easier because the feathers would pull right out and make his wrists smaller; my friend Schuster thought this was Rufus’ best idea ever and told him that he’d start warming up the tar.


I’m pretty sure that if you’re going to stand over me and watch me do it, it would probably just be faster to do it yourself, providing you know how.


Choosing a good hiking companion is never easy, as consideration must be made regarding not only social compatibility, but survival skills as well; a hiking companion who happens to be a hired assassin, for instance, might lack certain verbal skills which make them a poor choice if you enjoy light banter on the trail or around the camp at night, yet could have invaluable skills with a garrote, should you become injured and require the application of a tourniquet.


Einstein told his friend, Schrodinger’s cat, that the Internet was a great tool for physics but seemed to have an unpleasant side effect of inciting people to violence and other bits of stupidity, but Schrodinger’s cat believed it was Saturday morning cartoons such as the Looney Toons that often was the source of many people’s bad judgment.


It is possible to be angry beyond words, but more often than not, tears will just rush in to fill the vacuum.


Animal crackers make everything better.


Per Bakerina’s request:  Look upon my cheesecake, ye mighty, and despair!


“It looked quite cosy and comfortable in there so it was quite rude of me to take it out.”, [she said of the resident in her bra].


Never eat chocolate when you are angry.


My garage is so hot during the summer that sometimes I go out there just to get a feel what it’ll be like when I die and go to Hell; of course, there’s always the chance that it’ll be a little hotter in Hell, but I’m almost certain it won’t be quite so cluttered.


When one of the teenage girls asked the chief why the pool was closed for the day, he gave her a brief but precise report regarding the necessity of chemical adjustments; “Oh,” the girl replied, “my younger sister thought that it might have something to do with the bottom drain, which she says smells like something is burning every time she goes near it.”


When the chief was off, but on call, he made a point to limit the number of beers he drank, just in case there was an emergency that required delicate use of channel locks.


“Moreover, Don Johnson has been troubled at irregular intervals by a very rare disorder whereby the reflections of street lamps cross the lenses of his spectacles in dizzying succession and deafening airs from popular operettas fill his ears.”


No matter how wide a footpath might be and how few people may be traversing it, they will always endeavor to take up all available space waiting until the last possible second to move to avoid disaster, with no regard for the fact that even just five seconds of planning could have made everyone’s life so much simpler.


can we replace the light at the end of the tunnel with a compound LED - they use less electricity and are better for the environment.


we walked on the ocean; we stepped out on the sea; we tripped the light fantastic; until you fell for me.


I have an amazing new eye twitch that’s so strong, it measures on the Richter scale.


I am hereby leaving my job and my family and moving permanently into the Scrine Wiki; please write me a nice soft bed, a couch, and a pretty place to eat scones and jam.


Thursday, July 10, 2008

The fact that her tomato plant was scrawny and a pale green color made her feel like less of a man.


Where do our imaginary friends go when they leave?


Why don’t they put shark attack warnings on tampon boxes?


At the time, I couldn’t appreciate the irony in the fact that they had decided to record their lovemaking on a tape that had previously been labeled “comedians.”


bromeliad :: boot :: 0

Some words just beckon for a sentence to call their own.


Friday, July 11, 2008
Godspeed :: VanEck :: 9

“Dear Millicent,
    Well, my work with the UN has finally come to something - I’m being posted to their MINURSO operations in El-Aaiún in seven days. Many people see this as a dead-end operation, but I still maintain a faith in humanity that may be considered ‘zealous’ or even ‘ridiculous’ in the light of the local political situation… I just can’t abide by those who sit by and just hope that humanity sets itself right in the end: hope is not a strategy.  The world will not, as I have always maintained, fix itself through the second coming of Christ: it’s up to the good men who refuse to ‘sit by and do nothing while evil triumphs’. Yep, I’ll probably get shot at. Yes, it’ll be hot and uncomfortable, and even if the proverbial does hit the fan, you won’t see me on the news, because, quite frankly, no-one gives a fucking shit about this part of the world any more. You once asked ‘why would you do this?’. Well, it’s out of a sense of duty. What fate decided that I’d wind up in a first world country, living la vida loca, whilst so much of the world gets the shitty end of the stick? It’s the least I can do, to put my arse on the line and put myself through a fraction of the shit that these other hapless bastards suffer. Anyway, I’m rambling. I’m drunk. I’m scared. I don’t even speak the language yet. And quite frankly, I consider it a bit pathetic that the only place I have to pour my fears out to is some anonymous website. If you ever get the chance, Milly, do visit cafe luxembourg in the alma mater. You promised me.

All the best, to all of you.
Van Eck.

P.S. I know I’ve cheated (despite the perfunctory ellipses). But I always maintained that scrine should be a paragraph, and not just a single sentence. Keith, you can can my account after this. We have a satlink, but I’m told it’s for ‘important’ stuff only. No time for fun any more. Time to be a man. The world needs saving. Godspeed.”


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