Trite Gardening (Pat Pat)

Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, are going to try gardening, beginning with lawn grass. They've heard that it's hard to kill and never gets lonely.

Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, are sponsoring a trip as a business promotion. Pay $100 to enter the drawing. The winner will have their name up in lights over the doorway. P&T will send photos from their Caribbean Cruise, with a special thank-you postcard sent to everyone who chipped in to make it possible.

Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, are starting a farm, as soon as they accumulate enough clean dirt, which is why you see them all over town, with those little lace cloth bags. Any time that they see a little unclaimed dirt that meets their standards of rigorosity, they sweep it up posthaste into a bag and toss that into a carefully-sanitized purse. They estimate that they need only around 179,000 tons of dirt before they can plant their first fresh tidy immaculate crop, using sterile tweezers.

Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, will be holding an open house coffee shop workshop for interested parties. They have cups. You bring the coffee, and maybe some treats for everyone you might want to befriend. The fun will begin at 10 a.m. Saturday and will end quickly if any hissy fits or fights break out, even if the police do not need to be called to referee.

Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, want you to know that you're always welcome at their shop, if it's open, but not before. Please inquire by mail, with a self-addressed return envelope. (Postage for two ounces, please.)

Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, are lobbying for a new national holiday, Ordinary Week. The way it would work is that everything looks the same, and you go about your normal business just like always, and then eventually it's over and you go have a nap. Sound exciting? (Sounds pretty good to some of us.)

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? No longer worrying about it.

 

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 Me Tritely

Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, have gone into business. Their shop is "These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things". So far it's empty. They keep having huge fights about how often they should sweep the floor. And which is the most average toilet paper.

Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, not only finish each other's sentences, but begin them too, and forget what they were about to say in exactly the same spots. And repeat themselves, repeatedly, and have five more years until they should be eligible for parole.

Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, encourage all shoppers at their shoppe (The Little Obvious Shoppe) to dress well because they feel more comfortable dealing with people who know how to follow the rules. And don't forget to bring money.

Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, are always up for new experiences, as long as they embody the familiar, the tried, and the true. Etc. Why go out of your way to poke a hog?

Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, claim to have the world's largest collection of paper napkins. I bet.

Pat and Trite, the Obvious Sisters, are sponsoring Cushy Butt-Cushion Spare Change Redemption Week down at their DooDad Trivia Shoppe. All proceeds will be eventually routed to the needy, and everyone donating will receive a 1/10% discount on purchases over $100,000, payable in two years or whenever, on whichever cloudy Thursday first falls on February 29th, in a year divisible by 0.73961.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? Plausible, but denying it.

 

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

Zoot Fukie Days

Been a little sick lately. One of my legs fell off. Good thing that I have five more.

I didn't really want to say this publicly, but I think I'm in love with your zipper. I know a few buttons who are going to be disappointed.

There are bars of soap, which you can buy, and take home, and do with what-you-will, but there are no soap bars that you can walk into and froth up a good lather whenever you feel a little lonesome.

Alessandro wasn't my first choice of names, but Mom got to the birth certificate while I was still on my way there. So "Alessandro Alekssandr McGillicuddy Schmidkunz" it was. Revenge? I pooped a lot for a long time after, a long time, and she had to clean it up. What a hodknocking moniker. (I later changed it to "Bert Stench". Nice and short. And more like the real me.)

And by the way, we haven't met yet. We probably ought to do that ahead of the wedding, if we're really going ahead with this. I'm the one on stilts, wearing antlers. Probably the only one so attired at this wedding, in case you're not sure. Yes, I have a ring. It's in my nose. It will be safe there until the Big Moment.

And now, a word from our prisoners.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? Recently battered and deep fried. Now yummy.

 

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

Three Times Pointless

Ed from down in Accounting has started bugging me again. He's got this hobby-horse mounted on springs, and every so often he'll come bouncing right up to me while I'm working. Annoys the hell out of me, which explains the fly swatter. Whenever he stops, parks himself in my personal space, and begins bouncing, I stand up, face him, and swat my fly until he finally reverses and rolls off to somewhere else. And as a backup, I keep a small billy club under my desk.

I encountered a marshmallow-shaped mushroom deep in conversation about you with a mushroom-shaped marshmallow. I quietly tiptoed away after they giggled themselves to the point of self-wetting over your sex life. (It's all on Facebook now, for safe-keeping.)

If I could change one thing about myself, maybe I'd fall asleep face down in my soup less often, at least in public, on first dates.

Don't look now, but you're a real dipshit. Also unimpressive at it. My dead cat can do better.

Got my toad caught in a hole. While this may be a euphemism, it still hurts. Can't bear to look it in the feelers anymore.

Humid noodles. Hungry. Waiting for lunch. Six seconds to go, then the munchibeest migration begins, marking the start of eating season. Yum.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? Considering fungible fungi. Could I become a fungipus? Maybe, just maybe...

 

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

Captains On Parade Rest

Captain Sitting Quietly on the Porch recently experienced a major fright on losing his favorite toothpick. The police Toothpick Recovery Unit has been alerted however, and there is a better than even chance that the situation will soon return to the status quo ante without excessive panting, or gunfire, if any.

Captain Anonymous took out a loan that he'll never need to repay — he filled out all the paperwork using invisible ink, so they have no idea who the money went to. Currently on vacation somewhere obscure.

Captain Obvious started wearing a sign.

Captain Turbulent ruffles my feathers and I'm not a chicken, even. I just wear a few feathers on my vest to annoy the flies, so why?

Captain Anonymous disappeared again. No one was sure that it had really happened, aside from Captain Invisible, but doubters said that they saw right through him.

Captain Testosterone will be putting on a nose-hair pulling demonstration Saturday, 10 a.m. to noon. Free admission. Bring your own nose and bandages and join in if you dare.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? No longer in charge. Just visiting.

 

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

Right Way, Wrong Turn

Farbel the Vortung tried to fly up my nose. Luckily I wasn't there.

He, the King of Self-Importance, was greeted by a multi-carrot salute. Silent smiles were heard.

Songs of utter solicitation tell me I was born to be an onlooker. Could be a case of linguistic espionage.

A can of tuna came up and rang the doorbell. Said it was looking for its Mom. That's really the cat's department, so I gave it a can opener and sent it around back to see Nibbles. Here's hoping that it all came out OK.

You know, I can't remember if I've ever eaten a whole turkey, or if one has ever eaten me. Time to check my notes.

Wherever I go, daylight or not, I always carry a bucket of snot.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? Learning to whiffle-snork. It might be fun. But maybe not.

 

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

Tootling My Tooty Flute

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, nameless by choice, friendless by habit, solitary by nature, stinky for lack of bathwater. But who then — who — can remain perfect at all times in all situations? Few. True, a coyote or two does mind me, and objects, but only few, only but one or two.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, tall and gaunt, casting a long shadow, and I wear spurs to bed, every night, in case there may be late trouble a-brewing.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, tootling my tooty flute, tapping my toes, taking time off to enjoy the life tension-free, among wild grasses and herbs of the far-distant lonely plains, my home for so many long years now.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, sitting under the starry night's dome, waiting for a sign of life to come and visit.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy. You do not know me, for I am an illusion cast upon the projection screen of another's dreams. In fact, you will never even know that I exist, and should I come calling one evening, hoping to borrow a cup of lard, a thimble of thumb-tacks, a bag of bilge water, you will still not know me, but you will have what I need, even if you do not have what I ask for, because you are each and every thing that I am not, except lonesome. True? So, fine.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy. Today is the last day of the first part of my life, and the first day of the other part of my life, but given a chance to choose, I would say let me live backwards in time if you will, please, for I already know whatever I have done wrong and what might be attempted to ameliorate it, if I can but reverse it all.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@nullabigmail.com
Me? Weaving. Still weaving. (Hey — I'm a weavil.)

 

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