“Rockford, this is Detective Becker - we think we’ve tracked down the website responsible for ripping off your ‘one sentence’ gag idea.”
An old lawyer once told me that it was important not to change anything as you studied for finals or, most importantly, took the 3-day-long California bar exam, and so I studied hard with a bottle of scotch at hand each night, shook off a hangover each morning and sailed through the exam with a residual BAC perfectly suited to the practice of law. (Edit: Technically this is a 1995 sentence, but I refuse to give up either this one or my other ‘95 sentence; file me as a rule breaker of a rule which doesn’t exist.)
“Save your boldest lies for New Year’s Day,” Henry told his son, “because that way, lying the rest of the year will seem much easier.”
Dear S, write me a sentence, catch me a phrase, breathe your words into my ear…
Her sense of fairness left her indignant at the world much of the time.
The problem with growing old and losing one’s short-term memory, Juan discovered, was that his kids would take advantage of it to collect their weekly allowance far more often than once a week.
Every year I ask Santa for the same thing—a 1TB iPod with 8-hour battery life for under $200—and he never delivers.
“This year,” said the small pudgy kid in Mrs. Shuster’s class “I resolve to not make a new year’s resolution.”
I’ve been bum-rushed by my demons; is that allowed?
To compensate for his one short leg, Luke made it his policy to only date crooked girls.
I now spend most if not all of my time at the Confession booth.
I am not a carefully-worded contract with an airtight escape clause, and I will not be treated—or loved—as if I were.
Rufus thinks that we should shake things up a bit, since it’s the new year and all, but my friend Schuster told him to shut up, that he’d shaken the bars as hard as he could and they wouldn’t budge, and that it looked like we’d just have to sit and wait for Rufus’ mom to post bail, which, he reminded us, took almost a week last year.
Optimism tends to enter through the open pores, and furthermore your lips won’t chap in a moisture-laden world, so it’s better all around to be in a humid climate.
Will someone please inform that curiously misguided gentleman that filling station bathrooms are not erogenous zones.
This year I promise to run more every time I see a lion on the loose.
Jury service is a significant civic responsibility and fundamental duty of citizenship to protect our many rights and privileges.
All the poems have wolves in them, except one, the most beautiful one of all.
“New year, new chances,” said Muriel, in direct contradiction of centuries of evidence.
Tricky German engineering is a blight upon the world.
“It wasn’t so much an expensive suck as it was an expensive root.”
As inspired by: bakerina's I swear, we were talking about a $550 plumbing bill (guest scriner: me, with a little help from boot
Have you ever noticed how when I need a woman to, uh, vacuum, for me it costs about $30 and when you need a guy to, uh, root out your pipes, it costs you $550?
My new year resolution was to not make any new year resolutions this year.
“So, how about a root?”
I want to go dancing in the mountains with e.
No matter how many times I do it, I love the rush I get when I make that leap of faith and list something worth several hundred dollars for 99-cents, no reserve on Ebay.
As inspired by: "A poet... never speaks directly,as to someone at the breakfast table."
-William Butler Yeats
If a poet is not to speak to the reader as if over a breakfast table, then how, Mr. Yeats, am I to speak to Beth, that mousy girl in South Central California who up until recently has digested my work with a bit of morning toast and jam?
Doo whop a dip a dop a doo whop a dip a dop da do whop a dip a dop a dooo whoa oh yeah.
There are probably no lyrics left to be written about a warm sunny day, with a cool, gentle breeze, but I hope someone gives it a try.
back in my dark days of solipsistic narcissism, i believed i was the smartest person in the room, even when i was alone. provided there wasn’t a mirror around. i’m still the smartest person in the room, but i no longer believe it.
I sure would like to get my hands on that eighteen dollar bill I saw in my wallet last night.
My sandwich today includes heirloom tomatos picked fresh off the last of the vines just this morning, January 6th.
Having neglected Scrine for awhile, I return to find that the login screen has changed and despite the extremely minor nature of said change, I’m now frightened and intimidated, such is the power Keith wields over my psyche.
After rigorous scientific testing (and a fiery crash), Verne was ready to publish his conclusion that the maximum speed of angels’ flight is exactly equal to the speed rating of your tires.”
My L-d his Trumpets much commends,
And vows they chear his Heart,
Tho’ all this windy Musick ends
In Fart, Fart, Fart.
Three Scriners met last night, declared a quorum, drank Guinness, elected Keith to another term of Leader For Life as well as the positions of Chief, Boss and Head DJ, and then the meeting was adjourned before the cops arrived.
“Look ma’am, I’m a Spice Cop and you’re trying to report a coffee crime—you’re just going to have to wait until one of the Coffee Cops gets back from their Starbucks run.”
It is ironic that the only area of job growth this year is expected to be “unemployment claims processing.”
The complicated logistics of life really cramp my style sense.
Bronwyn reluctantly admitted that yes, she did get the black eye when she asked to borrow a turkey baster from her lesbian neighbor.
I dedicate this, my Scrine # 1946, to Walter.
I just received the membership packet for my 8-year-deceased grandfather accepting his 1953 application to Procrastinators Anonymous.
The grandchildren sat around wide-eyed, furiously texting their friends about the crazy things the old man told them, as Juan rattled on and on about how he grew up in a time before autism, asthma and rampant allergies to peanuts, eggs, milk, wheat and hard work.
There is little sadder to me than seeing that ‘mouse is the author of seven of the last eight sentences (now 9 of 8).
Sid realized that yes, he did have a biological clock, and it was ticking ever-faster against any chance of his finding spiritual fulfillment or the meaning of life.
Patsy wondered aloud if, after deleting her own Twitter, Scrine and Facebook accounts, she would disappear altogether.
Momentarily panicked because she could not hear her own voice, Patsy realized she actually had not spoken aloud but had been texting herself.
Did I just hear the TV say that the porn industry wants in on the economic bailout?
The last time Sid ever meditated, he experienced a flash of certainty that in a past life he had been a crawsfish and had died a horrible death in a Louisiana crawfish boil.
Upon telling my boss that I would begin smoking weed again if ever it was legalized, he drained his martini, cackled wildly and called me a “dreamer with a head full of dreamy dreams.”
Rufus thinks it’s only coincidence that his mom has taken up knife throwing as a hobby and that she seems to be practicing by sticking the knives into the floorboards directly over their heads, but my friend Schuster isn’t so sure, and says he remembers when his own mom took up the very same hobby only weeks before he accidently got knicked several times.
You are a casualty of your own war.
There are none so blind as those who will not hear.
As inspired by: pam's Only virtually, pt. 2
Momentarily panicked because she could not hear her own voice, Muriel remembered she was wearing her noise-canceling headphones.
Do the living haunt the dead?
Raise your glass, folks, to our persistent and glorious Chief, Keith.
To the closet Bay City Rollers/ABBA fan in the confessional: join the club, sweetheart.
As inspired by: Jo's What to Wear to the Mechanic
And, far more importantly, why do I even care?
Last night I dreamed vividly that I had eaten half a pound or more of macadamia nuts; this morning I woke up two pounds heavier.
“Look for yourself, officer, when I whispered to you, ‘Pssst, I can score you a pound of really good tea for a c-note,’ I really did mean oolong tea.”
“Thanks to Keith’s patented Self Cleaning Memory(tm) techniques I save hundreds of dollars a year on books because I can simply re-read the ones on my shelves every year or two and it’s like having a whole library of brand new books.”
“Sex with my wife is greatly improved since I started using Keith’s Self Cleaning Memory(tm) system, because even though she gets a little mad when I ask her her name, there’s no danger that I’ll actually call her by my mistress’s name, like before.”
“If you order now, in addition to Keith’s patented Self Cleaning Memory(tm) system, we will include this handy Just-Whistle key locator.”
I think congressmen should have to wear the logos of all their campaign contributors on their suits, NASCAR style.
Juan was amused to see Juan, Jr. watching first-run, not-yet-released-on-DVD movies on the computer, reminded of his own youthful trading of Apple II games.
I wonder [edit: if how fast] they’d arrest me if I took rice, squirt bottles and my feather boa and set up my projector and screen in the park at midnight on Saturday to relive the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
I’m pretty sure that I can title my next several hundred scrines entirely with lyrics from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
There are two kinds of people in the world: Those who giggle every time they hear any type of reference that reminds them of the Rocky Horror Picture Show and those who don’t, the latter of which we should endeavor to treat with pity, not disdain.
Soon the technology was available from China to download pictures from your own brain’s memory.
Whenever Seth sprayed his kitchen for ants you could hear him cackling, “Say goodbye to all this and hello to oblivion.”
Juan was also fond of the line, “Say goodbye to all this and hello to oblivion,” but he tended to coo it to his bottle of gin.
I don’t care how updated-for-modern-times is your story arc, or how nifty is your CGI: No one, but no one, will ever sing “Keanu Reeves was ill the day the earth stood still, but he told us where we stand,” and mean it.
I have never seen Rocky Horror either.
There is no break in my itunes library in between Otis Redding’s “dock of the bay” and the Introit of a mass sung by the Our Lady of Guadalupe Seminary.
Hold my toaster tiny hamster.
Excuse me while I kiss this guy.
I’m almost completely positive that an old radio play starring Peter Lorry first started the three ominous notes: “Dun dun duun,” but according to the internet it doesn’t exist, and after my extensive search (including re-watching the thing that first brought it to my attention) it would appear that the internet is correct.
“You’d be surprised what’ll keep a beaten dog around.”
Last night I dreamed that the country had elected a black president.
I’d always heard the Rocky Horror Picture Show referred to as a “cult classic,” but now that I learn only four or five Scriners are disciples, I’m afraid I have to admit the truth.
Harry Hippo had hydrophobia; oh no!
It’s always the ones you want to see the least, that want to show you the most.
It was when Muriel opened the closet door to look for the monkey wings that she realized her sense of humor must have been gradually moving its belongings out of her house for years.
There’s something to be said for a pile of mud and two eager children.
My momma taught me that those who live in glass houses should not run with scissors.
Whereas the mountain was an eternal truth for the flowers, the flowers were a brief tingle on the skin of the mountain.
The duck walked out of Central Park and into the city with his head down and a sense of purpose, with nary a hint of waddle.
Pat Robertson stopped by to welcome Muriel into The 700 Club, but quickly grew uncomfortable when Muriel found the monkey wings inside of an old, vinyl bowling ball bag.
You know the economy is bad when your mail carrier starts showing up two hours earlier than before and complaining there’s no mail to sort and deliver.
Bronwyn’s dreams of having lunch before her 1 p.m. meeting were dashed when she placed some stale bread in the toaster, turned the toaster on and returned two minutes later to toast that had sprouted brilliant constellations of mold across its surface.
Without a warning,
It gave a digital, “Burp!”
Then erased the drive.
Well, what the hell good is that?
“If we already knew how to think like lawyers…hello?!…we wouldn’t need to go to law school in the first place!”
As inspired by: A Shady180 typo in the chatbox
I hereby decree that “othern” is a perfectly proper word, as in, “I’d like any side dish othern the coleslaw.”
Eastwood was outstanding but I still miss the big orange monkey.
The chief would be the first to tell you that when you have to get out of bed in the middle of the night and lug a wet-vac up to the third floor to clean up water from an overflowing washing machine, then do the same thing all over again in the apartment below, there is nothing sexy about a pile of sopping wet panties.
Do not speak to your accounting person about the importance of regular backups right after you’ve just explained to her that you have undeniable proof that her last successful backup was ten very busy days ago.
Given that I used my first two wishes on a never-empty desk drawer full of good chocolate and a never-empty bottle of scotch in another desk drawer, I’m having a real tough time determining if my third wish should be that I never get fat from all the empty calories or if I never get arrested for DUI on the way home in the evening.
Never in my life did I imagine that I could “earn” a degree by watching horror movies and reading detective novels.
Einstein explained to Schrodinger’s cat that Muslims and Christians warring with each other seemed nothing more than silly kids fighting over whose imaginary friend was better, but the wily cat simply wheezed – a sound Einstein mistook for a hair ball – while wondering how that was any different from a renowned physicist talking to a cat.
John Hatfield grew tired of Enos McCoy’s pedantic approach to name calling.
In her quest to find the latest Scrine, boot fired up the Scrine-mobile and stocked the glovebox with pie.