I collect stains — keepem in a box under the stairs, next to Grandma's lint and shrunken head collection.
We had a small earthquake today. Someone upstairs farted or something.
Uncle Wally Walpole's wife left him. Tired of having to use a stepladder. (He used to be tall.)
It was as quiet as a shadow falling through an open door. Whatever it was. (Didn't see it either.)
Go back to that crazy dark cranny, Granny. Rest your feelers. Cool your mandibles. Preen your pincers. Time is on your hide.
Physics is an interesting subject. I might be tempted to study if it I wasn't made of dark matter, and emit only dark energy. They haven't written the chapters on those yet, so what's the point? Plus I fart a lot now that I'm getting older.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@gmail.com
Me? Just got my feelers waxed.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
