Portal to the passageway. Closed for now, maybe for then too. Please don't come back.
If my wastebasket is empty, it means that someone is thieving garbage again, because if there is one thing that you can count on me for, it's generating amountains of waste.
Sitting alone, in an empty cafe, sipping a sole coffee, nibbling wafers and whey. #AnotherPreciousAsshole
That noise you hear? That is the sound of the sound of my snoring. Because my head is empty. And it echoes. And you aren't any more interesting neither.
Beaks For Peace, an empty blessing or a vacant threat? Will call back if I find out.
Bimp Limbo — probably a thing. Could be a dance move. Just speculating.
Bought some rubber bands. Will add them to my collection right after lunch, unless I forget. That happens. Well, best eat — I'm empty again.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? Still pretty much as you first found me.
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
* Northern Latitude Rot Flocker. Not as tasty as you might expect. Somewhat chewy, and rowdy too, after swallowing, especially in large groups ("flockings"), which are hard to keep down. Weirdly attracted to cook pots, possibly with disturbing results. Likes snow tires too.
* Dark Dank Corner Creepy Thing. Hard to describe. Even harder to eat, especially cooked. (They don't go willingly, at all.) Has a call like heavy breathing on the back of your neck, without the excitement of anticipation. More like the stillness of the tomb on a slow Thursday, come to think about it. (No one feels quite right on Thursdays anyhow, do they? And this is much worse.) Most of them prefer to be called "Ed", for unknown reasons, and may bite if teased, or not. Never a whole lot of fun at parties, though they can be surprisingly entertaining after a few beers.
* Hypotheticalamus. The kind of thing you hear rooting around downstairs in the middle of the night on exactly one of those nights when you're sure that something terrible will happen if you go looking for trouble, so you stay in bed and hope for the best, hope that the cat is both able and willing to pull through for you and take care of everything.
* Duckbilled Ashtray Sniffer. You're pretty much OK if you don't smoke, but they're still noisy little bastards. Pray that they don't notice that you have shoelaces.
* Huffy Puffy Upholstered Hissy Fitter. Makes every other beast-form seem tame by comparison, especially goldfish and dust bunnies. Often observed in office environments, all too frequently in a cubicle adjoining yours, with a clear view of your desk and everything you do. Likes to play a radio all day, in case you ever have the deluded idea of inclining toward focus with the intent of accomplishing something important. Disapproves of your socks, your hair, the place where you were born, the way you pronounce your own name, and anything else concerning you, yourself, and your life that they haven't uncovered yet. When not engaged in outright hectoring, may make interminable clucking sounds, interrupted by the all-too-frequent telltale hiss. Dresses like your grandmother. Answers to "Karen".
* Free-Ranging Saturday-Afternoon Mood Spoiler. Never known to be an agreeable dinner guest, especially the ones who habitually steal snacks from the pet food bowl while complaining that the cookout isn't progressing rapidly enough. Gets defensive when asked to identify self, seeing as how no one admits to extending an invitation in their direction, not even once, and no one (also, neither, never, no-how) can even identify same. Never brings food or drinks to share. Tends to fart during the most inopportune interludes. Often mangy.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? Trying to huff a pufferfish. (It's hard, really hard.)
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
Mom said she didn't love me any more, until I told her I'd be cutting off her allowance.
Have I ever told you that I love you? I'm really hungry right now, so how about we do it after lunch?
Love is like an avocado in some respects. If you know what those are, please write — I'm always home.
Well, I got through Xmas again with my wrapping intact. Year by year, no one wants me, I never get discovered, I never find love, never get a chance to spread disease or eat any children, so what is there left to live for? Next Xmas — that's what. I've got to get lucky one of these years. Maybe I could get my teeth fixed. A little sharpening never hurt. Not that much.
I just wanted to tell you that I love you but we haven't been introduced yet. Besides, I'm pretty well occupied right at the moment, working on my runny nose problem.
When Mom said she loved me, she was actually thinking about pie.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? Bumping. That's all I do.
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
I don't know about you, but I'm beginning to run low on chocolate-covered nibble tips and angel fat.
The Devil is in the Badlands. Check the calendar for details.
Associate not with evil men lest you increase their number. -- George Herbert. Party on.
Evil secondhand cookie man came to town last week, but we were wise to that trick. Now we just watch TV.
Honorary Evil, a new merit badge, currently in beta testing. Can't hardly wait. Never like the old wishy-washy stuff.
Found God in the gutter again, last night. A half-full bag of catnip too. Do you really want to deal with life in a universe like this?
If God were an artichoke, that would be yet another good reason to avoid them both.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? Still excellent to be with. All the spiders say so.
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
* Me. I'm completely synthetic, can be consumed by any vegan, anywhere, at any time, if they don't mind being punched in the face for being the kind of people they are.
* Ruffelosaurus. Eats only potato chips. Farts a lot. Lives only long enough to become annoying.
* Great Horny Flappy Thing. Completely naked in anticipation of events that none of us even want to think could be hypothetically possible.
* Southern Jazz Tromboleus. Loud. Indiscriminately scatters large droppings wherever it goes. Thinks that the Music Age ended with Glenn Miller. Could be right. Who are we to judge? Watch your step. (They're the squishy ones.)
* Radio Frequency Jam and Jelly Fish. Comes with a freshwater tuner.
* Silva Mind Control Chia Pest. Floats like a buzzerfly, stinks like a dung beetle. Sings, but not in tune. Tastes bad, unless you like dung. (Not my favorite.)
* Return of the King Toad Sucker. Well folks, if you've got a toad stuck in your toilet, jamming up the works and preventing smooth moves, then you need a toad sucker, and these are the best. Not safe to use around small children, or if you wander around the house with your pants off (guys). Other than that, pretty mellow. (Does however make a giant sucking sound.)
* Strawberries-and-Cream Mother of God Plush Sleeping Lizard. Your snacking and nap-time pal.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? Also a nightmare. (Licensed and certified!)
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
Ever try cuddling with a lizard? (Asking for a friend. He's OK, aside from a few scaly bits. Pretty much OK. Usually. Sort of. Has some odd tongue issues.)
I bought a lizard yesterday. Going to name him Chuck. About 12' long. Lots of teeth on one end. Ate the neighbor lady yesterday. Now eyeing me. He likes these staring matches, but I have a good grip on the flamethrower and ain't lettin go.
Lizards on parade — something I'll never get used to. Maybe not them either. Especially the one who had to carry the bass drum. (What's a fish with a drum doing in a lizard parade?)
No, my scaly friend is not a lizard, but you can feed him bugs if you'd like.
Turn off your lizard — now!
Yeah, I'm gettin old. 'S why I have my lizard, Pete. Pete nips me on the butt whenever I get morose. That's what pals are for, innit?
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? Practicing for the tongue rodeo. Square knots, mostly.
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
Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, what a pair. So alike that they can't even recognize each other in the mirror.
Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, have nicknames. One is "Pat" and the other is "Trite". With nicknames like these how can they lose? Plus, so much less to remember this way.
Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, bought a cat to match their drapes.
Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, celebrate New Year's Day on New Year's Day, and the Fourth of July on the fourth of July, and try to keep it at that, with the possible exception of Thanksgiving, or any other holiday, secular or religious, if someone is serving ordinary good food and they don't have to either help out or pay for it.
Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, would like you to know that they are just average, ordinary, down-to-earth, plain folks but still way better than you could ever be, no matter how hard you try, so you don't have to ask.
Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, loudly proclaim that they are strong and independent women and then continue sitting on the front porch in matching hard-backed rockers, counting cars, and using their 8X binoculars to scan for homeowner's association violations up and down the street. Or anyone suspiciously walking anywhere.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? Occasionally not so obvious as you might expect.
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
