Monday, November 21, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
The Internet is the destroyer of innocence. (You heard it here first, folks.) Destroyer of Innocence.
My husband was raised as a NO TV, ultra-conservative, hardcore homeschooler. (I was homeschooled, too, but we watched Star Trek, MacGyver, and the A-Team, so I'm slightly less sheltered.)
After we'd been married for about a year, my innocent husband played this innocent game online and he learned – dare I say it? – the Your Mom joke. I remember the day it happened.
Player 1: “Ur a n00b.”
Player 2: “That's not what your mom said last night.”
And that was it. From then on Your Mom was included in every dinner conversation. Shortly thereafter it progressed and my dear, sweet, wholesome husband became captain of the That's What She Said team.
(It must be said that I am not a complete bystander in this. I enjoy participating in the Your Mom jokes and am very quick to instruct my husband regarding when Your Sister is much more effective than Your Mom.)
Last night, after several rounds of Your Mom's, we reached this point at the dinner table:
Me: “That's not what your mom said last night.” (we laugh) “You know, I never realized your mom was such a whore.”
My Mister: “A what?”
Me: “A whore. W-h-o-r-e. One who makes sex for money.”
My Mister: “Oh, well at least she makes some money with it. Your mom does it for free.”
See what I'm talking about? Innocence destroyed! So, guard your children.
Of course the “Your Mom” in these conversations is always hypothetical since actually suggesting such things about your Mother-In-Law doesn't lead to marital longevity.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
George the duck dived and swam, kicking his webbed feet in the water happily.
"Nothing could be better than this," George quacked loudly while flitting about. "Today is the best day!"
Bob slowly drifted across the water.
"Really, George? I'm barely staying afloat. It was all I could do to get out of the nest this morning."
"Are you kidding? I can't swim through this water fast enough. Let's sing duck songs! And organize the sticks in the dam according to size!"
No duck is that happy at this time of day.
Bob knew the truth: George was on drugs.
* * *
The above is a short example of the sorts of things I feel like writing these days. Usually, it's a tragic-comedy of some sort because after a long, ridiculous day that's what comes out.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
I make my husband's lunch every day and send him off to work with a grocery bag full of snacks, leftovers, and a drink. He comes home and thanks me for the lunch, often telling a story about about how excited he was for whatever “surprise” was in his lunch bag. Sometimes, I tease him a little by asking what I made him for lunch. I had no idea where this little tease would lead!
“Baby, the lunch you made me today was so good!” said my sweet husband.
“Really? Yay! What did I make you?”
“You made me a sandwich and it was so good I couldn't believe it!”
“. . . . I didn't make you a sandwich.”
“Yeah, you did!”
“No, I made you spaghetti.”
“No, it was a bologna sandwich!”
“Baby, I don't buy bologna. I think you ate someone else's lunch!”
“Well, I don't know what kind of meat it was, but it definitely was my lunch! It was in a grocery bag with that special trail mix you made for me.”
“Oh. Well, I guess it was your lunch, but I can't even remember when the last time I made you a sandwich for lunch. I think that was, like, 3 weeks old.”
“Well, it still tasted good! In fact, it was the best sandwich ever!”
Thus began the epic tale of the lunch of indeterminate age.
* * *
I've been looking for a way to tell day-to-day stories that don't quite fit in Twitter, so I may post more stories like this in the future. I'm finding it difficult to write fiction these days, so please accept some reality instead!
Friday, March 25, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Jolly Rogers are at best unoriginal – at worst debilitating. "Bursting with Bold Fruit Flavor"? More like bursting with evil. Accidentally bite down on a Jolly Roger and in return it will viciously, violently, voraciously rip your fillings from their comfortable, happy home in your mouth. This one tiny candy will make you choke down bits of dental-grade porcelain, sending you to painful hours in the dentist's chair. Enjoy Sour Apple? Enjoy these sour grapes: The tart acids and sugar will corrode your defenseless, wholesome tooth enamel like battery acid. At 17 calories each, Jolly Rogers might seem like a prudent indulgence, but you are deceived. Jolly Rogers are miscreants – a counterculture confection masquerading as a harmless hard candy while waiting to drag you behind the bushes and ravish your teeth. Don't be fooled. Eat [marshmallows] and keep your teeth.
* * *
Names were changed to protect the innocent. (Innocent = me! Don't sue me, bro.) This is another short writing piece from a rhetoric class. The assignment was to use only 150 words to write an Invective warning about the evil nature of a specific candy. We had to use various rhetorical schemes and tropes. I love Jolly Rogers, but I had to take a shot at somebody. The "evil" of Jolly Rogers was so prevalent in my parents' circles that even those of us who did not have fillings were not allowed to eat Jolly Rogers for fear of our teeth accidentally being pulled out from the roots or some such silliness. Or at least, that's what my 5 year old mind chose to remember. :)
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
I miss British Romanticism so very much. I'm taking a Whitman class now because it was the only literature class that fulfilled the requirement this semester. I'm pretty sure that Whitman is more in love with himself than any man, woman, or child could ever be. (I would say that he screams his own name during sex, but I'm trying to keep it clean here, folks.) Maybe Whitman will grow on me, but now I'm seriously regretting an entire semester dedicated solely to Whitman. Guh. Why couldn't they have an entire semester dedicated to Byron, William Wordsworth, or Coleridge??
I have to take a 100 level PE class in order to graduate and since I have horrible arches and am afraid of drowning that leaves only one option for me: Indoor Cycling. I have to be able to bike 10 miles in 20 minutes by the end of the semester or else I am doomed. Also, I need to be able to do 60 super-crazy-uber-particular sit-ups in 2min and 60 super-crazy-uber-particular squats in 2min. SO. That means this semester if I don't work my ever-lovin' tail off I will fail this class and have to take it again. Also, if I don't get skinny from taking this class (and all of the outside of class training I have to do) I will sue my body for criminal neglect.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
While Batman is the Dark Knight, Superman is only an empty shell. Superman is the false identity, the painted figure that hides the real man: Clark Kent. Superman is merely motivated by the existence of his own powers. Though he has flight, super-speed, super-strength, and laser vision, Superman's greatest selling point is that he’s the "good guy." Big Blue, the ultimate boy scout, always keeps his nose clean. Self-righteous do-gooder. Not a great strategical mastermind, Superman's motto is, “Why investigate when I can simply demolish the place?” He is all brawn and physical power with no room left for brains.
* * *
Behold! A piece of writing from my infamous rhetoric class last semester. The assignment was to write a comparison using two paragraphs of equal length - one paragraph must be in noun-style writing and the other in verb-style. The Batman paragraph is in verb-style and Superman is in noun-style. I used exactly 100 words in each paragraph.
P.S. I like Superman a lot, but somebody had to be the butt of this comparison. Sorry, Big Blue.