“My god!, there’s so much sugar.”
I was reading about the Belgian man who doctors thought was in a coma, but who was really just lying there paralyzed for 23 years, and while it’s hard to imagine what went on his head for that long of time, I suppose it went something like this.
Wes has fallen for one from a distant land who makes him feel like nothing he’s had, but fears that when tomorrow doth come, the want for something, sadly bearing no butterflies or loving chills will arrive, and the battle for heart will be unfavorably won, so please be gone matters of the brain and matters of life and heat, ‘tis she o’re there he wants with even the cold corners of the soul which, otherwise, do not know what wanting means whilst he walks these streets without even the ghost of her hand in his, yet it is primal need for fire that spectered palm knows and wants and needs which drives him confused and weepy from love’s arms of tender chills and butterflies to little more than kindling, wet with loss, and rain.
You’d think Juan would be thrilled to be the only man surrounded by seven women and a female cat, but mostly he’s just tired of all the requests to reach things on high shelves and to kill spiders.
Before they let young, innocent students take up the oboe, they ought to make the little suckers sign release forms, indicating that they realize they will have to learn an entire hand craft in addition to musical knowledge and instrument-specific skill; that they will slave away for hours with thread, cane and a knife only to produce two grotesque Frankenreeds and massive hand cramping; that the good reeds, when they do exist, will only exist for a short period of time; that the bad reeds will spread their squawky disease to every other reed in the case; that the instrument itself will often break just out of spite; that they will never be able to lift the oboe to their mouth and know with complete confidence that anything other than strangled moans will come out; that they will hate the oboe with every cell of their body, yet experience emptiness without it.
It was more than form following function, but a thing of indescribable beauty, a paradox of words living in visual harmony with a thing you could not see.
As inspired by: 'mouse's Halloween: Guest Scriner: The 400 teenage girls (okay 4) at my house
The effects of copious quantities of sugar, teenage girl-hormones, and sleep deprivation create a wild party with all the characteristics of way too much alcohol consumption, right down to the hangover the next morning.
The time change serves to emphasize the arbitrariness of life lived in the 21st century; next we’ll reset world hunger, energy consumption, and health insurance and carry on like it’s always been so, and maybe while we’re at it the mail will come on time and all phone calls will be returned.
The chief thought that the broken beer bottles in the parking lot proved that the trick or treat children had been supervised by adults, or at least by slightly older children.
One thing our hero did not like about “getting an extra hour” was the Monday morning who always ended up giving him troubles, by, say, making normally automatically changing alarm clocks wake him up an hour too soon in a panic.
Drinking coffee before a body movement class.
Abraham Lincoln is the easiest president to imagine doing the robot dance.
She’s smart, has a great job, is personable, and is very pretty… but I know she’s hiding serious demons.
My stomach thinks the transition from daylight-savings to standard time is a stupid idea.
“Why do you always have to make the muffins with dumb berries I hate like cranberries and blueberries instead of something good, like, say, rasberries or chocolate-chip berries?”
The OED dropped this definition from the last edition but I still feel it rings true always; WINTER: when stepping outside causes the snot inside your nose to freeze solid.
“Yesterday’s fact is today’s myth,” intoned Rosa, summing up her convoluted theory that Atlantis had the Bomb.
Despite prominently displaying the Surgeon General’s notice that “You cannot get swine flu from kissing pigs,” Miss Piggy’s ususally popular kissing booth had few customers at the harvest faire this year.
In a Capitalist society, it’s nearly impossible for a man to not think about how much he’d pay to run his hands up and down the neighbor lady’s thighs; oh what the hell, it’s pretty much impossible in every type of society.
As inspired by: Keith's Universal Truths For All Societies
Walking around with a banana in your pocket will universally earn you lots of attention and no attention at all.
“Don’t take with alcohol and avoid caffiene and spicey food.”
I quit diet soda a full month ago to try and shed some waistline; last night I weighed in with an extra two pounds….FUTHERMUCKER.
“I knew I had a problem when my husband joked to my mother that my homepage was WebMD (and I knew it really was, no joke), so I looked up web addiction and hypochondria and discovered that both could be signs of brain tumors.”
What with the prevalence of H1N1 Tammy decided she would both hibernate and hold her breath until spring.
Anything that motivates you to blog is a good influence, except for Jar-Jar Binks and the Gosselin family.
“I’m sorry, but eating yourself to death on half-price after-halloween-sale candy is not the kind of suicidal ideation that will allow me to check you into the hospital for your own protection,” said my therapist, shaking her head at me sadly, as she often does.
If four cups at midnight doesn’t do the trick, you might need to consider speed.
“To much, is just gettin started.” - Aunt Claire
When her husband wouldn’t shut up about how he’d killed the sabertooth with his bare hands, Wilma invented sleep.
Patsy composed a cheery mantra to get herself through the worst days of perimenopause; ironically, the days she most needed good cheer were the days she was least capable of tolerating it.
It’s a simple life, requiring but a single pair of pants.
Curious about what went on in that head of his, Unta invented hitting stupid ugly round things with heavy rocks.
“Your mother is so fat the escape velocity at her surface exceeds 3*10^8 M/S”
We scooped around that dead fly, but we felt its presence in our very bones, and in all of our awkward movements, ever asking the same question, “she’s in heaven, right?
If I could have one purely selfish “cosmetic” surgery, I think I’d have a second bladder installed sometime before next Oktoberfest.
Last night I dreamed in IM.
When a Google search for VIKING produces this.
I believe I would even take up smoking if I had a box of Robot Safety Matches in my pocket.
No, I don’t want my Amazon order with free supersaver shipping or even next day shipping, I want it rightnowgoddamnit!
Turns out I don’t have ADD, but rather Attention Surplus Disorder.
Juan leaned back in his chair and blissfully sipped Guinness from his coffee cup.
The echoes screamed and deeply whistled up and down the walls of the towering office block.
The inspirational carp skillfully navigated the muddy waters of the Cedar River, luring men away from more traditional religious ceremonies and, on occasion, even a Sunday afternoon football game.
The idea of the corn dollar appealed to many early 20th century Iowa farmers right up until the moment they tried to put one in their wallet.
Five seconds ago I just had the most brilliant idea I’ve had to date; now it is gone like the tumbleweeds that the Kansas wind has blown across the highway and into the distance.
Chutzpah: When a little indie designer who makes her living by selling her original designs asks you to photocopy a design you bought from another indie designer so she can have one too.
Minerva’s shopaholic tendencies led to every room in her house resembling a small town faux-French boutique.
“Well Son,” Pa started, “your mother was like a really annoying booger that I just had to pick, and flick off my finger into the geek in the front row of class’s hair.”
On the days that Jeffery knew the word of the day he was on top of the world, he was pompous, full of himself, and an all around ass hole, but on the days he didn’t, Jeffery lost that pep in his step, and his friends couldn’t figure out which was worse, magniloquent or woebegone.
I once explained to a Chinese friend about “The Terrible Two’s” intending to explain about two-year-olds, but before I could finish, she interjected “Oh, yes, we believe the same thing, kids are awful when they’re two, four, six, eight and so on.”
Her attention span was like that of a gnat, but not one of those gnats that float in a giant mass under trees on summer days, but one of those gnats that hang out above old fruit, and don’t you think there should be a Bulwer-Lytton contest on Scrine?
Suddenly realizing where it was he saw his client before, his son’s girls gone wild tape which was inexpertly hidden under the bed, the lawyer had to adjust his briefs before the meeting.
You missed the lady that you never met as she walked away leaving you with a tune in your head to a song that you had never heard.
bedazzled and surely frazzled are a lovely use of Z’s.
No time to stop and look over her shoulder, the sweat made her feet slip out of her shoes as she ran.
“The injunction of Jesus to love others as ourselves is an endorsement of self-interest,” Goldman’s Griffiths said Oct. 20, his voice echoing around the gold-mosaic walls of St. Paul’s Cathedral, whose 365-feet-high dome towers over the City, London’s financial district, “we have to tolerate the inequality as a way to achieving greater prosperity and opportunity for all.
The one thing she most needs someone to tell her cannot be said by me.
When subscribing to the real world plan after graduation, I realize now that I should’ve read the very very fine print at the bottom which reads “every one out here is trying to screw you over, and you’ll have to call home more than once for help from Mom and Dad.”
Baxter worked hard, planned perilous backstabbing manoeuvres, smoothly schmoozed his bosses, survived treacherous traps – all to earned himself an office with a window; only to sit, still and silent and dissatisfied as his window showed him the sunlit world outside.
“Your honor,” the chief told the judge, “we’re all here today simply to settle the unpaid rent issue, so personally, I think it’s very unprofessional of your court officer to be pointing out that I look like the man on the most wanted poster out in the hall.”
This person is (presumably) going to be a parent and were it not for the truly outstanding array of answers to a query that clearly disproves the adage of their not being any such thing as a stupid question, I probably would’ve already found myself in a clock tower somewhere, mindlessly shooting people in the groin with a BB gun, hoping that I might somehow prevent any more unfortunate reproduction by ‘the wrong sort’.
“That big black cloud had better not be rain,” thought Juan angrily, remembering he had not pulled the plastic back over his roof after this morning’s visit by the building inspector.
Dismayed, Teddy dropped the moving box containing his personalised coffee mug and his to-do-list notepad which proudly read ‘From the Beautiful Mind of T Teddy Esquire’ and looked around - when they said it was lonely at the top, Teddy had assumed he would at least get an office to himself!
At his incompetency hearing, Henry answered the judge’s questions truthfully, even admitting that he did often confuse The Bangles with Bananarama, but that his confusion had never stopped him from dancing foolishly to old 80’s hits.
Today when one of my friends told me about a postmodernist drinking game, I was less interested in playing (because I don’t drink), and mostly interested in how exactly one played.
The chief listened carefully as the tenant explained how she understood how a hot water heater could run out of hot water in a house, but how that she’d been led to believe that this was impossible in an apartment, and since it was impossible, there must be something wrong with the water heater itself, and that there was surely something he could do about it, especially since she still needed to take a shower.
A wooden duck with big, black wooden boots.
“I’m sure what you have to say is reasonable amongst your circle of friends,” Miss Jane whispered as she mopped up the parallel lines of blood, “however I have little time and feel that cutting to the chase is usually best”.
As inspired by: Keith's Henry’s Incompetency Hearing
For the majority of us, is there any other kind?
Asking an 18 (going on 19) year old male who has never taken a year of art to draw six renderings of costumes on people, to scale, and fitting them as they normally would is, I think, asking a little too much.
“No playing outside, Peter, until you’ve memorized your sarcasticism.”
Naturally the moth had no idea as to the depth of the man’s nightmares, nor would he have cared if someone had attempted to explain them to him, but what he did understand was that he enjoyed sitting on the man’s forehead each night, drinking his fill of sweat.
As Juan sat in the window seat in the sun he felt a sudden, barely contained urge to begin grooming the hair on his arms with his tongue.
Boot asked for evidence of improvement in Tim Tam slam technique; I figure my choices are a) video or b) showing my belt’s been let out a couple notches.
“Dad, I can’t risk becoming any less motivated, cuz if I was any less motivated I’d never get off this couch at all.”
Just like there’s no freaking way an airplane can fly, I refuse to accept there can really be 200+ songs inside that iPod Shuffle.
The relief Roger felt at having one less person in his life made him wonder if he should get rid of all the people in his life.
Stealing my not easily found, most favourite ever beverage and replacing it with a generic and uninteresting bottle of nonsense, sans explanatory note, is so offensive that I have not yet calculated the correct punishment.
Slowly roasting over a fire pit, on his first missionary journey having wondered into seldom-seen-by-white-man-never-returned-to-report cannibal tribal grounds, Roger could not complain about the tribes’ enthusiasm in spreading the word, just their methodology.
Janice flopped down on the couch, and flashed a half smirk at the tv while wondering to herself how in gods name she would explain to her husband why she bought “Baby, Mix Me A Drink,” a board book for newborns.
We danced in our dreams, too, I danced with you on the ballroom of the sky like a star caught, by another’s gravity over the faces of Orion and Draco, but when the morning came our dance was laid to rest over eggs and coffee in the corner room with a smile.
Well hey, I walked around the neighborhood and did the work too, I deserve to eat the candy…
Friday feared.
She settled.
Mack lived most of his life under the misapprehension that every woman wanted to sleep with him, but since he was terminally shy it never mattered.
It was good while it lasted—very good—but it didn’t last.
Selma was the kind of mom most kids admired and most other mothers distrusted; the kind who didn’t mind that her kids kept some things locked away from maternal eyes, knew where the keys to all those locks were located, and wasn’t even tempted to peek inside.
“Matchsticks make bad toothpicks,” observed Jukebox McGill, “unless you chew one into a point - but then you gotta use that point to pry out all the dang wood splinters.”
I have just recently made a drastic change in my hairstyle and it was the best decision I have ever made.
Door locks.
After that episode, Wilbur read the Nyquil label carefully, but he found no warning at all about the now-obvious danger of mixing casual sex and cold medicine.
If I had $20 Million I’d certainly go into space; if I had $2.1 Million I’d defy the laws of physics here on earth.
If 5 days of 39C is a ‘tad warm’, then… Mister, I hope you fry in hell.
I love my new job. That is all.
I love novelty socks and silly hats.
Our hero was surprised to find a Google Wave invite in his email, so surprised, in fact, was he that bed suddenly stopped being an option.
As inspired by: boot's Miss Jane: Intolerance Personified
Cutting to the chase
is usually best
but Miss Jane found
cutting to the bone
works on the human pest
Some books come from so rich and beautiful a place, they not only reach you, but reside within you forever.
“If the old lady knew her hips bones would break so easily,” Milton the Bastard told the store manager, “she shouldn’t have jockeyed so hard with me for position in line.”
“We love our bureaucrats here in Hell,” the Devil said; “After all, it’s their paperwork that makes all these wonderful flames possibly.”
If I had more presence of it, I’d be very worried about my mind.
“Staring at your ass,” Milton the Bastard told the checkout clerk, “reminds me that I forgot to buy a bag of potatoes.”