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Sunday, August 01, 2010

Red Coyote rode his bike through the forest, trying not to let the others see his irrational fear that his tail would get caught in the spokes.

Wesley was excited when his piano teacher decided to give him a new song to play, saying that she had found something “better suited” for his talents than the overly simplistic Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.


Monday, August 02, 2010

As inspired by: littledevilworks's More words to live by

Sometimes bad things happen to people and, well, I know how to knit.


As inspired by: littledevilworks's words to live by

Never EVER fuck with a giraffe.

On This Day :: Sheldon Meets Jesus :: 0

ӿConoces a Jesús,” Sheldon, missionary to the people, asked young Jorge who replied enthusiastically, “Si todo el mundo sabe de Jesús” and pointed to the kindly pretzel vendor who had occupied the same corner between Third and Delaware for the past 15 years.


As Patrick surveyed his equipment with more than a little satisfaction, he said to himself, Jeez, I should be in a job where I screw people all day, instead of being a lawyer, but then re realized that sentence didn’t scan right since as a lawyer he did spend his days screwing people.


Ella found it curious that her husband and his friends would often pledge their left testicle, which given their fondness for their genitalia, caused her to wonder if there were something wrong with the proverbial “left nut,” and, as she observed to her friend Claudia, no one ever offers their right nut for anything so it would only stand to reason their was a problem with the left gonad of the male of the species because, let’s face it, no male voluntarily surrenders any part of their manhood willingly, even if it is a shriveled little ball.


Juan realized, somewhat belatedly, that his response when his kid asked him, “Why do you drink?”—“To make the pain go away”—might not have been exactly age-appropriate.


Tuesday, August 03, 2010

As inspired by: Br. Ezra's The Proverbial Left Nut

Contrary to popular belief, the Society of the Proverbial Left Nut, a fringe fraternal organization, does not have a secret handshake that involves the scrotum.


Wednesday, August 04, 2010

The remains thought to be that of John the Baptist actually turned out to belong to Elvis despite protestations from Mama Cass who claimed she had been body surfing with the King along the Sea of Galilee earlier that week.


As inspired by: Br. Ezra's The Proverbial Left Nut

How fir do they mean exactly when they say “she’s gone about as fir as she kin go?”


After the probing, Henry demanded to Glorko that they take the longcut home and show him something spectacular like the Sombrero Galaxy; “It is customary on Earth to woo your conquests,” Henry informed Glorko and the other aliens who were listening, “so think of it as the dinner before the one-way we just had.”


Henry thought of all people as imports, but where exactly the factory was, he couldn’t say.


Red Coyote dodged the flying buckshot, thankful his father wasn’t a better aim.


As inspired by: Keith's Henry’s Alien One-Way

Having just been ‘examined to completion’, Henry asked the aliens if they had anything that he could smoke or perhaps if anyone was interested in cuddling.


Morning :: 'mouse :: 0

Wednesday dawned, tumescent with hope.


“Son, I tried wait for the one once, but she never came, so I did.”


Things never end
in baited waiting;

no, instead they end when
they never will,

i.e. summer holiday in the Adirondacks,
or conversely a haggaring day in the factory

with a cold one waiting
with baited breath in the fridge.


Nitid :: OhNo789 :: 5

I pump my bike’s petals, urging myself forward through the drizzle which can only be perceived around the edges of Four A.M.‘s nitid street lamps, and on my glasses.


“We no longer have a [stock] market, but merely a daily recurring crime scene.”


The doctors seem to think that my father may have abdominal muscle strain; he has self diagnosed his pain as symptomatic of alien incubation.


Legend says the spirit of John the Baptist restlessly roams the earth looking for his head, but Fr. Romanchowski believed he ended up in Bulgaria because he had been desperate for a really good borscht, and chose to live the remaing years of his life there even though eating soup without a head is a very difficult business.


The atheist in me just shouted, “God bless the Constitution and the founding fathers!” upon reading that a federal judge just overturned California’s gay-marriage ban.


I love this patterned shirt so much; I wish I had pants and shoes that matched exactly.


Thursday, August 05, 2010
6:15-20 :: Jo :: 0

With all the clocks set to slightly different times throughout the house it feels like a consensus approach, or more of a committee protocol to finding out the time.


Jack’s autobiography began with the sentence, “Dear Mom, thanks for the mammaries,” and went downhill from there.


If you find a hole in your knitting, call it a fucking buttonhole and move on.


Features :: 'mouse :: 1

As inspired by: littledevilworks's knitting advice

My friend the software developer insists, “They’re not ‘bugs,’ they’re features we haven’t quite found a use for yet.”


Friday, August 06, 2010

Wesley was excited when his piano teacher decided to give him a new song to play, saying that she had found something “better suited” for his talents than the overly simplistic Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.


Pulling on his socks, making them just right, Henry forgot all the interlocking details of the previous night’s dreams, including the most important piece—the name of the man who held the key to harnessing the hidden energy of—whatever it was, dammit, he couldn’t remember.


Lucy was cruising along with the top down, enjoying the wind in her hair when a styrofoam cup slipped out the side window; she didn’t think much of it until the trooper pulled her over, asking ‘Ma’am, do you know what you dropped on the road back there?’ and weeks later the realization came crashing down on her that the cup had contained her sense of humor…and what were the chances of her picking it back up on the side of the highway during her mandatory community service? 


And now my teenage neighbors scream and yell, and wake me up in the middle of the night to borrow my phone, and try to sell me drugs that i don’t do anymore, and ask me to buy them beer, and I squirm with motherly instincts, knowing that even though I’m old enough to be their mother, I’m not.


Half of losing is in the finding - it could take years to lose you sense of humor, your patience, the love of a beloved, and I think that you’ll find that, sometimes, it is worth it, so long as the thing is found, before it is lost like a feverish dream.


Saturday, August 07, 2010

I just got back from Target with my new coffee maker and a copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies…I am going to make a pot and prepare myself for the coming end of humanity.


Fr. Romanchowskie (discoverer of the remains of John the Baptist) prophasized to his small congregation that the end will not come from on high, but from within in the form of a virus that will turn the infected into flesh eating, brain slurping zombies (even now the infected walk among us unaware, even to themselves, of the deadly apoclypse they are soon to unleash upon humanity).


They’re coming for you Barbara…


As inspired by: from The Domesticity of Giraffes

“Bruised-apple eyed she ruminates
towards the tall buildings
she mistakes for a herd:
her gaze has the loneliness of smoke.”


“Believe me, I wish I could blame the radio silence on Facebook, because I hate that bastard Zuckerberg…but no, it’s because the man who wrote this is now my yoga teacher, which means I’m doing a lot of yoga now, and it’s all Juan’s fault.”


Sunday, August 08, 2010

He often wondered if she wasn’t bred to be an alarm clock, but most nights the thought would be tossed aside.


Monday, August 09, 2010

Of course the world sleeps when it is on my mind.


Happiness is not only finding a supercool special edition of a book I love at the flea market and negotiating the price down to $2 but getting home and discovering it’s signed by the author!


You know the Great Recession has become a full-fledged Depression when the only theater in town still showing porn flicks has gone out of business.


Bronwyn wondered why she was suddenly seized with the desire to bake a carrot cake, to put up the weekend’s batch of cherry jam into jars and to turn the chicken carcass in the fridge into broth…when suddenly a light went on over her head; surely enough, a quick check of her mail confirmed that homework assignments were starting to arrive.


Mention the intellectually-bankrupt trainwreck that is Jersey Shore to someone of Italian descent and watch as their countenance darkens and they lower their face into a pan of ziti in order to muffle their shameful weeping.


Tuesday, August 10, 2010

He said, “I love you,” but she couldn’t hear him over the breaking of her own heart.


I wish there were a contraption that automatically put all my thoughts on paper.


Last night, I found a copy of the famous VJ 498 misspelled “Beattles” 45 in a hidden compartment in an extremely ugly desk my friend had just bought for a few bucks at auction… and it wasn’t even he rarest item there, hoarded by a collector who saved every concert ticket and flyer from every event he attended, got everything signed (even the slipcover of that 45) and who apparently never played any of the records.


As inspired by: JadedBeauty's Blogs, books, and keyboards don’t count.

If the words in my head could dump themselves onto the page, that would be sweet, but then the page would have the final nail in the coffin of our marriage in writing.


“Those are cicadas; that means it’s REALLY HOT here.”


It’s a little-known fact that the world’s default color is blue.


She had no idea that calling the woman a crack whore was soon to be so prophetic.


Wednesday, August 11, 2010

The Internet is powered by the souls of its users.


I kissed a girl, 25 years ago or so, and I’d googlestalk her if I could only remember her name.


As the mother of a teenager, it felt to Patsy as though she had been re-enrolled in high school; she laid awake the night before the first day, trying to remember how to count to 100 in French and wondering whether geometry would defeat her as before.


His Nano hung around his neck whenever he went out, a talisman against silence, instructions etched in tiny print into the white plastic: “In case of emergency, administer Radiohead.”


Heidi knew that she and her sisters were all Army brats, and she figured out pretty early on that she had been born in Germany and given a common German first name, her sister Fatima had been born when dad was stationed in the middle east and Diane in the USA, but she was 15 before she was brushing her littlest sister, Jade’s, hair one day and discovered that each sister had a tattoo just above the hairline, reading “Made in China,” “Made in the USA,” “Made in Lebanon,” and “Made in Germany,” respectively.


Thursday, August 12, 2010

If your back was as hairy as mine you too would sometimes get funny looks when caught doing that bear-scratching-its-back-on-a-tree move against door frames, etc.


I laughed and laughed at the protest sign which read, “A Moral Wrong Cannot be a Civil Right” as counter-examples waterfalled through my brain.


Sometimes life can get so stuffy, like the attic room you’re forced to store your furs in the year you can’t afford cold storage - heat is a dangerous beast; it makes you languid, it droops your flower’s petals, makes you so thirsty that you turn brown, shrivel and catch fire.


Like his closets, Fender’s social bookmarking sites were beginning to get hopelessly cluttered with magazines and newspapers he’d saved with good intention, but had never gotten around to reading.


Friday, August 13, 2010
Pron :: 'mouse :: 2

As his fortune grew, Javier found he had more success jerking off to a rolling stock ticker than he did looking at traditional porn.


Quite frankly, I am upset with my therapist who believes I am a psychopath for wanting to put on a hockey mask today and slaughter horny teen camp counselors with my evil looking machette.


Saturday, August 14, 2010

Stupidity this overwhelming must be contagious.


Sober Me says, “One drink is all you can afford,” Drunk Me says, “Sober Me has a credit card.”


By being anti-cologne, you’ve saved me the heartbreak of most scented memories.


However, I can’t get my oil changed or pump gas without tearing up at least a little bit.


Watching endless episodes of Say Yes to the Dress does not a social life make.


How come not a single vampire novel mentions dried mosquitoes as a tasty after school snack for the kids?


Sunday, August 15, 2010

The heart isn’t a strong muscle, each twisted truth and every broken promise rips the stitches of time.


A snake dream might mean your favorite television program may soon be cancelled; pay close attention to the level of your fear in the dream, as fear is the key to knowing how much battery power remains in your TV’s remote control.


The flying dream may be a sign that the stoplights will be in your favor on the way to Target.


As a connoisseur of construction chemicals, I’d just like to point out that shower pan membrane cement is a much uglier high than the gold standard set by toluene-based products.


The famous Quaker William Penn penned that “men must be governed by god, or they will be ruled by tyrants,” yet I ask you, who has been a bigger tyrant that the god of the Christians, and how many earthly despots claimed faith and drew inspiration from this former Babylonian storm god that has thrown destructive temper tantrums though out the course of history?


In the end Satan won the wager with god prompting HIM to speak to Job from the whirlwind telling him to shut the fuck up.


Monday, August 16, 2010
Mediocre :: 'mouse :: 0

A gray cat crossed my path this morning; I suppose this means I’m in for seven more years of mediocre luck.


I want to ask her, “Is that photoshopped, dumb luck or skillful composition?” but I’m sure if I don’t come up with better wording she’s going to take offense regardless.


Love me and leave me be, enveloped in my world of words.


Tuesday, August 17, 2010

MOVE is a four letter word the likes of which inspires loathing and fear in the humblest of beings.


The world was filled to the brim with roosters, only a handful of them disguised as chickens.


Jukebox McGill was pleased to see a new zest in his friend Bible Mose’s fire-and-brimstone rebukes, noting that the man had even traded his beat up baseball hat for a passably new one that read “RAPTURE READY”; if crazy-ass religious buskers could get quarterly reviews, thought Jukebox, Bible Mose stood ready for inspection.


She’s seven, she doesn’t understand guilt, just the better kinds Hershey candy, her American Girl Doll’s drama with the Build-A-Bear, and that one eight-year-old down the street with an eye for her.


I no longer listen to any news story nor click through to any article which includes a gleeful “killed” or “died” or any variant in the headline or intro.


Wednesday, August 18, 2010

She swears that she didn’t see the “No Trespassing” sign on the abandoned asylum of my heart; she just broke in to take some pictures, to walk these empty, thunderclap ridden halls in search of something beautiful, but I didn’t much care - she still had to take a ride in my police car, and let me take her out on a date for me to waive the fine.


“I once sent a kite up in a thunderstorms; I think that you’ll find the results shocking.”


Statistically speaking, the longer you live the more likely you are to die tomorrow, but probability suggests that, conversely, the longer you live, the less likely you’ll die tomorrow.


If you’re perfectly sensible, nobody need know that, under those long Edwardian skirts, you’re horny as hell - but who on earth wants to be that sensible?


Tammy carefully baked all her hopes and dreams and chocolate into a delicate souffle and pray that no one slammed the oven door before it was ready.


As I sat in the dentist’s chair enduring the root canal procedure, I took some comfort in the fact that in a parallel universe, another me was no doubt experiencing something completely different, like learning French or having his nose hairs plucked out in slow motion.


They called my name, “Stephen,” and I stood up with a squeak, Christmas-crimson turtleneck clashing horribly with fall’s burnt orange.


John sighed deeply as he deftly plucked the material from his underpants that had wedged snuggly between his buttocks and, he could hardly help observing, that if his cheeks were any fleshier each time he bent over his boxers would instantly become a thong; his grandmother used to warn him that some days even your favorite pair of underpants would let you down.


Thursday, August 19, 2010

I really should write a good sentence about my teenage son’s discovery of blue balls, the ensuing discussion involving cause and effect, life in general, and possible remedies for his discomfort, but I wouldn’t want to embarrass any young man at such a critical time in his life, particularly my own son, and besides, his wild exclamation at the end of our conversation was better than any sentence I could write on the topic—“What?! There’s a penalty for not masturbating?”


It often seems that optimism is really nothing more than sticking your head in the sand and pretending nothing awful is happening


Like the dinosaurs, the hipsters never learned to whistle, sealing their fate.


Friday, August 20, 2010

The problem with people is that they get money and emotion mixed up, and they’re never sure what either means.


The stories I tell of my youth feel like they must have occurred in an entirely different universe.


Frank, alarmed over the Weekly World News article reporting that zombies have invaded his favorite Southwestern town, shouted to his friends, “Grab a clean pair of underpants and your flame throwers, we’re going to Albuquerque.”


Perhaps, it was the smell of charred zombie flesh or, maybe, it was due to the vigorous work of killing zombies in the hot sun, but regardless zombie slaying always found Frank craving barbeque when the day’s work was through.


The CIA resolutely denies having dumped LSD in my well 20 years ago, but the talking iguana begs to differ.


You know, calling yourself ‘the creative type’ does not then exempt you from having to take responsibility for any of your other actions.


There was something like a ‘knock, knock’ on the inside of Mark’s head then opened a little door center of his forehead and a voice said, “Hello, it’s Common Sense; I’m back cause I couldn’t just idly stand by anymore.”


Saturday, August 21, 2010
help… :: goliard :: 6

i’ve joined facebook and now i can’t get out; i feel so ashamed.


doesn’t know what he wants to do next; struts around with his guns concealed in silk shirtsleeves and makes extravagant speeches about his humility, while i sit in the corner and wonder how i’ll feed my children next week.


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