Wednesday, November 29, 2023

Roll Your Eyeballs, Harvey

Roll Your Eyeballs, Harvey

Good thing Mom knows how to sew. Chuck gave me a love bite yesterday. Ripped me in half. Frisky. Mom'll fix it all up. Be good as new soon. Need a smaller cat though. One with fewer teeth.

Got back from the restroom and found three people sitting in my chair. They were arguing about what to call me. I called myself a cab and left for Kazakhstan. Clever move on my part. See? I still have some smarts.

Had my armpits audited today. I suspect them of not being completely accurate in the accounting department. Several hairs have recently gone missing without a trace. Suspicious, to say the least, though I still smell good, which is why I've decided to keep my nose.

Harmony Weezels, my first grade teacher. She kept rats. For stew, I think. Rats anyway. Definitely rats. Always smacking her lips. Always.

I bet Mom she couldn't deck me with one punch and now she's pissed and I'm all bruised and stuff.

I craved something sweet so I kissed my reflection in the mirror. It gagged. Won't try that again either.

 


Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Been there, ignored that, and all the other stuff too.

 

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

Flying Gooseburgers

Flying Gooseburgers

For the first time in my life I have nothing to say while my mouth is full of food. Enjoy! (Tomorrow I'll be back to normal. Probably. What is normal anyway? Maybe I'll find out soon. Will let you know.)

Cow orkers. (Maybe you've had some, even some afflicted by cowboy mouth. A symptom of gallop disease, I hear.)

My accountant is Harvey Hammerhandel. You don't want to get on his bad side. That's why I pay him. Mostly in cornsilk, which he has a fetish for.

[Nobel prizes you never hear about] (Not here either.)

Albania did not impress me as a good place to lick. I tried all the buildings I could get to when I was there (and the insides too — even some of the doorknobs), but everything was a disappointment, especially my trip out of the country with a full military escort. You'd think that they could find better things to do with their limited funds, like upping the flavor profile of at least some of their toilet seats.

I bet I could teach myself to dance quicker than I could find a reason why I'd want to, let alone spending more time stuck here with you.

 


Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I don't know either. (I'm lying. I know everything, and am better than you in most other ways too.)

 

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

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Wednesday, November 22, 2023

This Channel Doesn't Have Any Content

This Channel Doesn’t Have Any Content

My sister Fweeba is contemplating starting her own navy. Gonna build it up from inflatable decoy alligators, so's she can surprise the enemy, if there is one. If not, she'll find something else to do with 1500 puffy reptiles. She always does. This isn't her first time around the block, you know.

My sister Fweeba's husband Mervon is trying on socks this week. It's a thing among his people. They are descended from a mostly extinct and seriously remote tribe of wandering investment bankers. Somewhere in there is a connection to fuzzy socks. I guess it works for them.

My sister Fweeba has taken a sudden and perplexing interest in houseplants with hairy leaves, going so far as to knit mittens for some of them, though you'd think that their fuzz had served them well enough. Maybe not. They don't talk to me any more.

My sister Fweeba's husband Mervon recently ordered a home-embalming kit from Amazion. (Yes, I spelled that right. It's a small company based in Wishek, ND. Don't go there.) Well, maybe not you, but I am amazed. Not so much that he is actually that stupid, but that he is actually that cheap — something like $17.95, although you need to provide your own rubber hose, but he already has one.

My sister was the only one in her girl scout troop named "Fweeba", and never acted like it bothered her. In fact, she suddenly became the only member of her girl scout troop immediately after that fourth-round knockout of Big Agnes, who made the near-fatal mistake of poking her with a stick just one time too often, or as some say, of poking her with a stick, just once, presumably. Once is more than enough for most of us, it seems, especially Fweeba, I'd say. No pokes for her.

I bet I'm the only guy on the volunteer fire brigade with a sister named Fweeba and a pet Himalayan artichoke. Or possibly the only one likely to talk about it.

 


Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Just kidding.

 

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

Bet You've Heard This Already

Bet You’ve Heard This Already

Pigs on toast with pinkley wings. Came outta nowhere and headed straight back again. No longer available at any price whatsoever.

The doctor's name is Jake and he raises pigs for fun and has hair in his nose.

I used to be a professional pork lift driver. Had a license and everything, and they called me Mr Oinkmobile, but I refused to snuffle for truffles, so now I'm back in the circus again.

Spotted a UFO right after lunch. Another Urologist From Ohio. They all retire here for unknown reasons. Eat a lot of pork chops.

At lunch. The appetizer arrived. Just as the street flies caught up with me. Buzzing sounds on all sides. Woo — I'm all excited now.

Have a mouth full of words and no place to spew them. Maybe the pork fairies will come to save me. Or maybe not. They take a lot of time off.

 


Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I'm kinda like that anyway.

 

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

Wednesday, November 15, 2023

Always Count The Teeth

Always Count The Teeth

With a mouth like you've got going, it seems like a career in solid waste disposal would be an obvious choice.

I couldn't have said it better myself, even if I had a mouth.

I haven't seen a rat crawling out of anyone's mouth lately. I wonder what changed.

I woke up to a strange, strangled sort of moaning. It didn't go away until I closed my mouth. Odd.

Just like that I was sucked straight out of my rubber boots and eaten by an octopus, forced to listen to the obscene sound of all eight of its mouths merrily munching me. I'll never forget it as long as I can remember it.

So if I read the menu right-side-up, then today they're serving jumping beef. I guess I'll have to hop to it if I want to get fed. Possibly could end up with some hair in my teeth if my technique is not fully up to par, but that one will be on me. Can't blame the cook this time. So I'm going in with my eyes shut and my mouth open.

 


Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I don't remember any more.

 

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

Have A Hat For Lunch

Had A Hat For Lunch

I had an uncle who spent too much time thinking about the wrong things and eventually turned into a chicken. Then someone cooked and ate him. Don't let this happen to you. Don't be a dumb cluck. Take off your beak when in public, and always wear a hat.

The crowd just arrived. Everyone is wearing hats. Some wear several, stacked, and are waving their feelers with excitement.

The man who mistook his hat for next Thursday afternoon — has to be a story in there somewhere.

Wednesday is "Wear Your Hat Backward" day, which is nice if you normally walk like that, because then there is at least one day a year when you can feel like a normal person and wear a hat. Am I making sense yet?

Is that a hat on your hair or hair on your hat? I can't tell from here and I'm too tired to come over there and set it on fire just to see what happens.

My other uncle invented the WeenTopper. It's a hat made out of hot dogs, so you can have sun protection and lunch all at once. Definitely a pretty new concept. At the moment he's still working to get the bugs out.

 


Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Wondering what vomeronasal really is.

 

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

Wednesday, November 01, 2023

Bones For Lunch

Bones For Lunch

Lunch will be my treat today. I lucked into some fresh roadkill on the way over. Cat. Ever have tenderized Cat? You can do worse.

God can be real annoying at times. We went out for burgers. Said it would be a treat. Guess who forgot their wallet? Yeah — happens all too often with this so-called deity.

Deep dish valley-baked nibbly bits, a pleasant treat in any time or space dimension. Better with beer.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life and I still can't stand it. Am I not supposed to get a treat or something?

I recently ran out of words. Treat me kindly if appropriate, while I get back up to speed, whatever that means. (I was told to say that.)

To entertain with food and drink without expense to the recipient by way of compliment or kindness (or bribery). Right. I can deal with that, so treat me, now and often.

 


Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I thought you'd ask, so I have no answer.

 

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

Hands Full Of Emptiness

Hands Full Of Emptiness

I gave up smoking when the fire truck came and put me out. Six years ago today, but I still miss it. The fire truck. The red one. Am therefore considering trying my hand at a bit of smoldering this weekend.

RaTalk is a new app just like Uber but you don't go anywhere and it still costs but you get to talk to a live rat and maybe pet it when it shows up, if you remember to bring hand sanitizer.

Seeking left-handed French torque wrench wrangler. Must have at least one working hand of your own. Hiring preference given to those who know how to bathe themselves. (No licking.)

Trondheim is a place? I always thought of it as a disease. That's what my mother told me. She got me to wash my hands a lot that way.

Speaking of, when will handwashing be an Olympic event anyway? And why don't they serve beer? Two more of life's mysteries.

Uncle Benny once showed up at work without his hands. No one knows why, and he never talks, but he did remember to bring his ceremonial artichoke. That's something. Write if you know what. We'll wait.

 


Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I've got two!

 

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