Funny Analogies

October 28, 2011 at 2:40 pm (poems, randoms)

haha this still cracks me up every single time…which one is your personal favourite?

 

Even in his last years, grandpappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut. (Sandra Hull, Arlington)

 

The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work. (Malcolm Fleschner, Arlington)

 

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while. (Malcolm Fleschner, Arlington)

 

“Oh, Jason, take me!” she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night. (Bonnie Speary Devore, Gaithersburg)

 

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something. (John Kammer, Herndon)

 

Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter. (Barbara Collier, Garrett Park)

 

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up. (Susan Reese, Arlington)

 

It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever seen before. (Marian Carlsson, Lexington, Va.)

 

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant. (Jennifer Hart, Arlington)

 

The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM. (Paul J. Kocak, Syracuse)

 

The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium. (Ralph Scott, Washington)

 

Her lips were red and full, like tubes of blood drawn by an inattentive phlebotomist. (Greg Dobbins, Arlington)

 

He felt like he was being hunted down like a dog, in a place that hunts dogs, I suppose. (Russ Beland, Springfield)

 

The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object. (Nanci Phillips Sharp, Gaithersburg)

 

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up. (Susan Reese, Arlington)

 

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef. (Brian Broadus, Charlottesville)

 

She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs. (Jonathan Paul, Garrett Park)

 

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall. (Brian Broadus, Charlottesville)

 

A branch fell from the tree like a trunk falling off an elephant. (Jonathan Paul, Garrett Park)

 

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a ThighMaster. (Sue Lin Chong, Washington)

 

The painting was very Escher-like, as if Escher had painted an exact copy of an Escher painting. (Joseph Romm, Washington)

 

They were as good friends as the people on “Friends.” (Katie Buckner, McLean)

 

Her breasts were like two mounds of flesh waiting to be compared to something. Something round. Perhaps some kind of citrus fruit. (Jerry Pannullo, Kensington)

 

The sardines were packed as tight as the coach section of a 747. (Tom Witte, Gaithersburg)

 

Her eyes were shining like two marbles that someone dropped in mucus and then held up to catch the light. (Barbara Collier, Garrett Park)

 

The sunset displayed rich, spectacular hues like a .jpeg file at 10 percent cyan, 10 percent magenta, 60 percent yellow and 10 percent black. (Jennifer Hart, Arlington)

 

He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

 

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

 

He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

 

Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

 

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The Story Of The Curious Oysters

February 9, 2011 at 9:11 pm (poems, randoms)

https://i1.wp.com/www.jabberwocky.com/carroll/pics/glass21.gif

‘The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright—
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done—
“It’s very rude of him,” she said,
“To come and spoil the fun!”

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying over head—
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
“If this were only cleared away,”
They said, “it WOULD be grand!”

“If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
“That they could get it clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”
The Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.”

The eldest Oyster looked at him.
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head—
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat—
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more—
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—
Of cabbages—and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot—
And whether pigs have wings.”

“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
“Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!”
“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
“Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed—
Now if you’re ready Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.”

“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue,
“After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!”
“The night is fine,” the Walrus said
“Do you admire the view?

“It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf—
I’ve had to ask you twice!”

“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
“To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“The butter’s spread too thick!”

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said.
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size.
Holding his pocket handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter.
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?”
But answer came there none—
And that was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.’

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The 100 Most Beautiful Words In English

January 16, 2011 at 3:01 pm (poems, randoms)

Ailurophile A cat-lover.
Assemblage A gathering.
Becoming Attractive.
Beleaguer To exhaust with attacks.
Brood To think alone.
Bucolic In a lovely rural setting.
Bungalow A small, cozy cottage.
Chatoyant Like a cat’s eye.
Comely Attractive.
Conflate To blend together.
Cynosure A focal point of admiration.
Dalliance A brief love affair.
Demesne Dominion, territory.
Demure Shy and reserved.
Denouement The resolution of a mystery.
Desuetude Disuse.
Desultory Slow, sluggish.
Diaphanous Filmy.
Dissemble Deceive.
Dulcet Sweet, sugary.
Ebullience Bubbling enthusiasm.
Effervescent Bubbly.
Efflorescence Flowering, blooming.
Elision Dropping a sound or syllable in a word.
Elixir A good potion.
Eloquence Beauty and persuasion in speech.
Embrocation Rubbing on a lotion.
Emollient A softener.
Ephemeral Short-lived.
Epiphany A sudden revelation.
Erstwhile At one time, for a time.
Ethereal Gaseous, invisible but detectable.
Evanescent Vanishing quickly, lasting a very short time.
Evocative Suggestive.
Fetching Pretty.
Felicity Pleasantness.
Forbearance Withholding response to provocation.
Fugacious Fleeting.
Furtive Shifty, sneaky.
Gambol To skip or leap about joyfully.
Glamour Beauty.
Gossamer The finest piece of thread, a spider’s silk
Halcyon Happy, sunny, care-free.
Harbinger Messenger with news of the future.
Imbrication Overlapping and forming a regular pattern.
Imbroglio An altercation or complicated situation.
Imbue To infuse, instill.
Incipient Beginning, in an early stage.
Ineffable Unutterable, inexpressible.
Ingénue A naïve young woman.
Inglenook A cozy nook by the hearth.
Insouciance Blithe nonchalance.
Inure To become jaded.
Labyrinthine Twisting and turning.
Lagniappe A special kind of gift.
Lagoon A small gulf or inlet.
Languor Listlessness, inactivity.
Lassitude Weariness, listlessness.
Leisure Free time.
Lilt To move musically or lively.
Lissome Slender and graceful.
Lithe Slender and flexible.
Love Deep affection.
Mellifluous Sweet sounding.
Moiety One of two equal parts.
Mondegreen A slip of the ear.
Murmurous Murmuring.
Nemesis An unconquerable archenemy.
Offing The sea between the horizon and the offshore.
Onomatopoeia A word that sounds like its meaning.
Opulent Lush, luxuriant.
Palimpsest A manuscript written over earlier ones.
Panacea A solution for all problems
Panoply A complete set.
Pastiche An art work combining materials from various sources.
Penumbra A half-shadow.
Petrichor The smell of earth after rain.
Plethora A large quantity.
Propinquity An inclination.
Pyrrhic Successful with heavy losses.
Quintessential Most essential.
Ratatouille A spicy French stew.
Ravel To knit or unknit.
Redolent Fragrant.
Riparian By the bank of a stream.
Ripple A very small wave.
Scintilla A spark or very small thing.
Sempiternal Eternal.
Seraglio Rich, luxurious oriental palace or harem.
Serendipity Finding something nice while looking for something else.
Summery Light, delicate or warm and sunny.
Sumptuous Lush, luxurious.
Surreptitious Secretive, sneaky.
Susquehanna A river in Pennsylvania.
Susurrous Whispering, hissing.
Talisman A good luck charm.
Tintinnabulation Tinkling.
Umbrella Protection from sun or rain.
Untoward Unseemly, inappropriate.
Vestigial In trace amounts.
Wafture Waving.
Wherewithal The means.
Woebegone Sorrowful, downcast.

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Morgan M. Morgansen’s Date With Destiny

January 12, 2011 at 10:06 pm (music, movies, poems, randoms)

http://www.viddler.com/player/c15ad510/

watch this it has Joseph Gordon-Levitt! also, it just happens to be the most wonderful short film i’ve seen in a long, long while. the film itself is a surrealist, steampunk, romantic comedy boasting amazing aesthetics and the best transcript ever, with homages to influences as varied as Lewis Carroll, Sigmund Freud and Dr. Seuss.

the nonsense words used in the script really evokes The Jabberwocky for me. hahahah my favourite line: “the foodpenguin disapparated”. now why couldn’t we have done this as a literature text in high school instead? would have been totally awesome.

Capricitous califrag Morgan M. Morgansen stood in the longroom of his fourwalls, narcissising himself in the doubleglass. He horizontalized his neckbow and let a long stream of air out of his facehole. He was ready to lothariate. Or at least, ready as he’d ever be.

The eatroom was all ashadow with the tiny flames of waxsticks. Our man Morgan unstood onto a personholder and waited as the timeteller ticked and tocked on.

Tardily, the saxifragous personette swavered through the wallhole. Her headfront was polypainted with fauxface; lips cherried to the max, see-globe hairs enplussed to twin the limbs of arachnomonsters.

Morgan liplifted, twittery at the personette. He re-stood and presented her with a personholder, upon which she speedily settled her backcushions.

“Merry pre-night” tittered Morgan. “You look verily procreational”.

“Why thank you triple M. As do you. Soaped and suited, you are quite the see-treat”

Morgan pinkified as the foodbringer apparated, penguin-dressed. The gent was simply seeable as a skog – his downlooking headfront formed as if he ever had a facehole full of sour-yellows. The eatroom paidslave personpawed a duo of eatlists to Morgan and the personette, then disapparated.

The potential procreators see-globe-scanned the eatlists chatlessly. They picked their eatplates and the foodbringer reapparated, primularly enquesting Morgan on his desirated eatplate.

“For me, the body of a bunnybaby, if you please!” Morgan proclamates.

“And how would you preferate your bunnybaby, sir; black, brown or bleedy?”

“Bleedy please” Morgan worded.

He liplifted at the foodbringer and then targeted his see-globes at the personette. He was shook to see her see-globes dripping a little saltliquid.

“And for you, personette?” enquested the foodpenguin.

Blub-hiding she unquested “The herbivorous option for me.”

Morgan spitswallowed and loosed the topflaps of his chest coverer.

The foodbringer held in a snorgle-flit and worded “And for wet?”

“For liquid we will have the juice of old red grapes please. Very old” Morgan speedily shut a solo see-globe at the foodbringer. The foodpenguin boomeranged the gesture then disapparated with a smise.

After another chatless wordgap, the eats apparated. The foodpenguin citrusly unhid Morgan’s eatplate. On it unlived the corpse of a bunnybaby, its minicular rabbitears as yet unremoved, its olfactory-organ buttonish and evercute.

The personette yeuched loudly, a puddle of pre-puke ascending into her facehole as the eatready fluffpet met her see-globes.

The personette’s eats were a plateforest, a feast of foliage, a fleshless foodpile.

Morgan geishily sub-servietted the bereaved bunny and postceeded to chomp the accessorical greenery duetting it. The personette liplifted, amourated by Morgan’s sacrificious herbivorosity.

Post-bunny-boycott, the wordgaps filled fastly. The personette flirtated laviciously and tilted Morganwards, displaying her frontcushions bashlessly. Morgan was fullheart butterflated by this floricious femalian. Habberdashed and hornified he tittered as she toetangled with him sub-table.

Speedily they slurped the grape-liquid and soonly, their personpaws paired tableside, glowed by the flamey waxsticks.

Foodbags full, they monied the foodpenguin and uprighted themselves. The personette had desirated to subvide the debt but Morgan M. Morgansen swayed his topbulb pendulemically ‘no’ and that was that.

Out in the no-walls, the duet locked see-globes, topbulb-deep in procreational emotation. The personette touched her bottomlip with her topchompers and tilted Morganwards once more. Morgan pinkified, shut his see-globe covers and vicinitated his topbulb to the personette’s facehole.

An ultimated tilt Morganwords and the pair were liplocked. Morgan M. Morgansen almost lovesploded with butterflation as the floricious femalian tonguetangled with him.

Through the hardclear of the eatroom, the formerly falsituous foodpenguin lifted his citrus lips at the passion-paired persons. How could a humanian fail to be emotated by such a celebratious encoupling?

And that moon-up, when Morgan M. Morgansen horizontalised himself on his sleep platform, for once, it was not alonely.

https://i0.wp.com/unwrappedphotos.com/wp-content/gallery/hitrecord/channing-tatum-morgan-and-destinys-eleventeeth-date-the-zeppelin-zoo-ctu.jpg

for those keen for more, the second installment to the series – Morgan and Destiny’s Eleventeeth Date – The Zeppelin Zoo. incredibly charming. i think the the second is even better than the first!

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The Three Little Pigs

November 30, 2010 at 6:16 pm (poems, randoms)

https://i2.wp.com/www.personal.psu.edu/ser5092/blogs/lled_402_blog/the%20true%20story%20of%20the%203%20little%20pigs.jpg

The animal I really dig,
Above all others is the pig.
Pigs are noble. Pigs are clever,
Pigs are courteous. However,
Now and then, to break this rule,
One meets a pig who is a fool.
What, for example, would you say,
If strolling through the woods one day,
Right there in front of you you saw
A pig who’d built his house of STRAW?
The Wolf who saw it licked his lips,
And said, “That pig has had his chips.”
“Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”
“No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!”
“Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in!”

The little pig began to pray,
But Wolfie blew his house away.
He shouted, “Bacon, pork and ham!
Oh, what a lucky Wolf I am!”
And though he ate the pig quite fast,
He carefully kept the tail till last.
Wolf wandered on, a trifle bloated.
Surprise, surprise, for soon he noted
Another little house for pigs,
And this one had been built of TWIGS!

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”
“No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!”
“Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in!”

The Wolf said, “Okay, here we go!”
He then began to blow and blow.
The little pig began to squeal.
He cried, “Oh Wolf, you’ve had one meal!
Why can’t we talk and make a deal?
The Wolf replied, “Not on your nelly!”
And soon the pig was in his belly.

“Two juicy little pigs!” Wolf cried,
“But still I’m not quite satisfied!
I know how full my tummy’s bulging,
But oh, how I adore indulging.”
So creeping quietly as a mouse,
The Wolf approached another house,
A house which also had inside
A little piggy trying to hide.
“You’ll not get me!” the Piggy cried.
“I’ll blow you down!” the Wolf replied.
“You’ll need,” Pig said, “a lot of puff,
And I don’t think you’ve got enough.”
Wolf huffed and puffed and blew and blew.
The house stayed up as good as new.
“If I can’t blow it down,” Wolf said,
I’ll have to blow it up instead.
I’ll come back in the dead of night
And blow it up with dynamite!”
Pig cried, “You brute! I might have known!”
Then, picking up the telephone,
He dialed as quickly as he could
The number of red Riding Hood.

“Hello,” she said. “Who’s speaking? Who?
Oh, hello, Piggy, how d’you do?”
Pig cried, “I need your help, Miss Hood!
Oh help me, please! D’you think you could?”
“I’ll try of course,” Miss Hood replied.
“What’s on your mind…?” “A Wolf!” Pig cried.
“I know you’ve dealt with wolves before,
And now I’ve got one at my door!”

“My darling Pig,” she said, “my sweet,
That’s something really up my street.
I’ve just begun to wash my hair.
But when it’s dry, I’ll be right there.”

A short while later, through the wood,
Came striding brave Miss Riding Hood.
The Wolf stood there, his eyes ablaze,
And yellowish, like mayonnaise.
His teeth were sharp, his gums were raw,
And spit was dripping from his jaw.
Once more the maiden’s eyelid flickers.
She draws the pistol from her knickers.
Once more she hits the vital spot,
And kills him with a single shot.
Pig, peeping through the window, stood
And yelled, “Well done, Miss Riding Hood!”

Ah, Piglet, you must never trust
Young ladies from the upper crust.
For now, Miss Riding Hood, one notes,
Not only has two wolfskin coats,
But when she goes from place to place,
She has a PIGSKIN TRAVELING CASE.

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Little Red Riding Hood’s Demise

November 23, 2010 at 12:19 am (poems, randoms)

As soon as Wolf began to feel
That he would like a decent meal,
He went and knocked on Grandma’s door.
When Grandma opened it, she saw
The sharp white teeth, the horrid grin,
And Wolfie said, “May I come in?”
Poor Grandmamma was terrified,
“He’s going to eat me up!” she cried.
And she was absolutely right.
He ate her up in one big bite.
But Grandmamma was small and tough,
And Wolfie wailed, “That’s not enough!
I haven’t yet begun to feel
That I have had a decent meal!”
He ran around the kitchen yelping,
“I’ve got to have a second helping!”

Then added with a frightful leer,
“I’m therefore going to wait right here
Till Little Miss Red Riding Hood
Comes home from walking in the wood.”

He quickly put on Grandma’s clothes,
(Of course he hadn’t eaten those).
He dressed himself in coat and hat.
He put on shoes, and after that,
He even brushed and curled his hair,
Then sat himself in Grandma’s chair.

In came the little girl in red.
She stopped. She stared. And then she said,
“What great big ears you have, Grandma.”
“All the better to hear you with,”
the Wolf replied.
“What great big eyes you have, Grandma.”
said Little Red Riding Hood.
“All the better to see you with,”
the Wolf replied.
He sat there watching her and smiled.
He thought, I’m going to eat this child.
Compared with her old Grandmamma,
She’s going to taste like caviar.

Then Little Red Riding Hood said, ”
But Grandma, what a lovely great big
furry coat you have on.”

“That’s wrong!” cried Wolf.
“Have you forgot
To tell me what BIG TEETH I’ve got?
Ah well, no matter what you say,
I’m going to eat you anyway.”

The small girl smiles. One eyelid flickers.
She whips a pistol from her knickers.
She aims it at the creature’s head,
And bang bang bang, she shoots him dead.

A few weeks later, in the wood,
I came across Miss Riding Hood.
But what a change! No cloak of red,
No silly hood upon her head.
She said, “Hello, and do please note
My lovely furry wolfskin coat.”

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