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Archive for the ‘art’ Category


work out

If you can’t walk up it, I don’t think you can roll up it.

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green jewel

Shapeless lumps of teeth and flesh surround me, clawing and biting at my arms. Their talons are careful not to tear the green, Grecian gown I wear. Together we rise slowly from the pit.

A great flash of light.

I drop to a crouch, hugging my knees to my chest. The creatures ignite falling in columns of ash around me.

I wake to blazing lights cutting across the sky, punctuated by a barrage of thunder. The storm rages outside and I am sweat drenched in bed.

If I could paint the images in my head. The cavernous hall, filled with sights and words I cannot banish. I try to chase the ravens from my window sill, but they always return wanting more.

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Pet the kitty!

457

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53 (9)

Hey Maybelle, the dish needs adjusting.

Why me?

Because you’re in charge of dishes.

I’ve been thinking again. This time about tourettes. I worked with a guy who had tourettes, but he only twitched when he got nervous. He didn’t yell out random obscenities. I thought he should just for fun. I would.

I would begin all meetings with –

“I want to apologize in advance. I have tourettes. When I get nervous I may say a few inappropriate words or phrase. Which can quickly snowball since my nerves will increase the more words I say.”

Then at some point I’ll break in with –

“Holy crap.

Damn it.

Turkey butt.

Sorry ass.

Son of a bitch.

Can those peaches, honey buns!

Sorry my Grandpa was a frugal man.”

And thus would end the meeting on a high note.

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you said not to cut is down

the palm. So we built around it.

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lightbulb moth

“It’s a beautiful day…” Argh!

Do you ever get songs stuck in your head?

I have a few songs that I seem to cycle through. When I try to stop one another begins.

My usual “… I need you baby and if it’s quite alright I need you baby until the morning light. I need you baby trust in me when I say …” over and over. And I don’t even know the rest of the words.

An oldie She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain When She Comes, three verses. Are you kidding me? I know three verses of that song. Must be deeply embedded from my childhood. (verses two and three if anyone is curious – she’ll be driving six white horses and we’ll all go out to meet her…)

And drum roll please. This morning’s song – It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood from Sesame Street. No. No, it’s not beautiful day in the neighborhood because that song is stuck in my head!

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22 (9)

Excuse me.

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7 (7)

“I can’t let little Billy chew gum. He keeps swallowing it,” one of my friends, Anna said picking through her cob salad, no bacon, no onions, no eggs, no cheese, no ham, no croutons, dressing on the side.

I know what’s left, right?

“That’s so unhealthy,” Barbara, another of my friends agreed. She was still moving her plain chicken breast and broccoli around her plate.

Tammy was eating a “hamburger” sans the bread, ketchup, mustard, mayo, pickles and cheese.

They were all on a diet of some sort: Anna low fat, Barbara low carb and Tammy paleo.

“You know it takes a month to digest,” Tammy said.

“I know,” Anna agreed.

Barbara nodded.

The waitress set my second margarita in front of me. I was on the liquid diet, my favorite. “Seriously?” I exclaimed, loudly. I did say it was my second margarita, extra tequila. “You believe that?”

They and half the restaurant turned to look at me.

Anna rolled her eyes, “Didn’t we ban her from her tequila diet last summer?”

“You believe that gum sits in your stomach without digesting for a month? Oh my God, you have got to be kidding me.”

“Yeah, I think I’m remembering why.” Barbara whispered to Anna sighing.

“I can tell you for a fact that isn’t true,” I continued. “If chewing gum didn’t digest for a month, swallowing gum would be a cheap form of bariatric surgery. I’d swallow a whole pack every wee. It doesn’t stay in your stomach forever.”

“I love her on this diet.” Tammy laughed, hailing the waitress. “She’s about ready for her third.

(Based on a real life conversation. After that much tequila, you know who you are.)

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photo_zps39f3d4ee

 My nephew, the Pistol is five and in kindergarten. He brings home a folder everyday in which the teacher puts a smiley or frowny face and my sister is required to sign it.

When my sister asked for the folder, the Pistol said, “That folder is filled with lies, written by a liar.”

Of course it was a frowny face and read, the Pistol pulled his pants down and sat on a table.

When questioned further, the Pistol replied, “No, I pulled my pants down, then up and then sat on the table.”

His teacher told my sister not to worry about it. It’ll be better once he’s moved to the gifted program.

What the teacher really meant – “Don’t worry about it. It’ll be better once he’s out of my class.”

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you want to do a butt slap

I’m sorry, but who wants to use that sink?

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