Welcome Dear Readers!! First I want to thank you all for the lovely comments you’ve been kind enough to leave on my blog this past week. I haven’t had a chance to respond to them as yet as I have two new grand babies staying over Thanksgiving, and I have to get my adorable fix in while the gettin’s good!
Now for today’s post:
Ten Signs You Overdid Thanksgiving
It’s been a couple of days since you’ve seen any of your pets.
The only thing you own that fits comfortably now is your trampoline.
You’ve worn your teeth down to such a degree that now they can only be described as “implied.”
You’re experiencing eater’s remorse over not taking the pies out of the pans before scarfing them down.
It’s official! As of this morning, you are now storing the leftovers for every refrigerator within walking distance in your very own stomach.
You have to use sign language when you want to communicate because your tongue collapsed from exhaustion.
You cried yourself to sleep last night because you fear there may never again be room for Jello.
You have decided to replace the lion in your family crest with the more appropriate symbolism of the fatest person on earth.
You can now go through the rest of your life secure in the knowledge that nothing is too big for you to swallow.
And the Number One sign you ate too much at Thanksgiving Dinner:
Instead of crying tears of joy, you are now crying gravy of joy.
Welcome Dear Readers and Friday Fictioneers! Well tomorrow’s Thanksgiving and what better way to prepare a huge feast for a house full of turkey gobblers than to write a 100-word appetizer.
Captain Crimony steers the ferryboat with his boot and expertly sips his Irish coffee through a Styrofoam cup he holds between his teeth and plays solitaire.
Thus, Captain Crimony plows through the murky waters of Puget Sound like a willful child plows through a slab of wet cement, day in and day out.
One day, Captain Crimony hits an oil tanker.
Now, Captain Crimony sits on his couch, and expertly sips his Irish coffee in a Styrofoam cup he holds between his teeth, and plays solitaire.
Thus, he awaits his disability checks, day in and day out.
Welcome Dear Readers! I have had so much fun blogging this year I can’t even tell you because I’ve already used up my entire vocabulary for the 2013.
So today we will be looking at some of the failed posts that no matter how hard me and my brain, Peanuts, tried, we just couldn’t get to work.
Failure # 1:
The Patronizing Noodle Lady
Here’s how the post started out:
Welcome Dear Reader! Good News! The Patronizing Noodle Lady has decided to make a visit to the blog.
Here’s a picture of The Patronizing Noodle Lady:
“No! You’re not listening. These here . . . the ones I’m touching, these long skinny things, are called noodles. And the noodles go here, where my index finger is tapping. My index finger is the finger you would use if you wanted to point at something. Do you know how to point at something? Or were you lying about that question on your resume?”
Peanuts and I even drew a picture of The Patronizing Noodle Lady thinking she might become a recurring blog character.
But that’s as far as Peanuts and I got with The Patronizing Noodle Lady, and the reason is because we failed to take into account how very difficult it is to find pictures of people who are in the act of being patronizing. So Peanuts and I abandoned The Patronizing Noodle Lady which is really what she deserves anyway, we supposed.
Failure #2
Here’s another post draft that Peanuts and I abandoned:
Welcome Dear Reader! Good News! Mother Goose Has Agreed to Answer Your Most Pressing Questions:
Dear Mother Goose:
Every time I make a pie, there’s a little boy who livs do
As you can see from the work we put in, neither Peanuts nor I was really committed to “Mother Goose Answers Your Most Pressing Questions.” I thought it would be a humor goldmine, but my brain, Peanuts, threw down the pick and shovel and jumped into a bowl of buttered rum, leaving me hanging. Thanks . . .hic. . . a lot Peanuts!
Failure #3
Here’s another draft that was abandoned. I’m blaming Peanuts entirely for this one. It said simply:
Mrs. Ricardo, Dan Jenkins second-hand furniture man:
If you were to watch this clip, you would see that this is the episode where Lucy stares at William Holden while he trying to eat his lunch. It’s really funny and in the end she lights her clay nose on fire. Ha! Ha!
But Dan Jenkins, the used furniture, man who buys Lucy’s furniture for $90 and then sells it back to her for $125 isn’t even in this episode! That’s why this draft is so very strange! As you probably guessed, Peanuts loves ‘I Love Lucy’ and always insists we watch it instead of Meet the Press.
Failure #4
Okay, here’s a draft that needs no explanation because no explanation exists.
The nonsequitor of the “Off to battle with the Caanon” broken link paired with a picture of a baby wearing a knitted tie is just the kind of thing my brain, Peanuts, comes up with when sound asleep. I’m sure my subconscious mind got a big kick out of it though. My subconscious laughs pretty easily and at the dumbest things.
Failure #5
Here’s an abandoned draft that shows you how temperamental my brain, Peanuts, can be. All it said was:
Hello Dear Readers!
And then apparently Peanuts called it a day. Well at least Peanuts didn’t have the audacity to post it . . . like I’m doing right now . . . uh oh . . . I think I hear Peanuts laughing in the recesses of my brain — where, for my brain, Peanuts, it’s recess 24/7/365.
And there you have it, Dear Readers, it being whatever this was.
Until next time . . . we (me and Peanuts) love you
Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s Friday Fictioneer 100-word story, picture prompt. I’m mighty glad to be participating this week, having had to sit out last week’s fun due to shoelacing difficulties. As always, thank you to our hostess, Rochelle, at Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple.
Plastic men have ambitions too. Newberry’s ambition was flight.
Newberry was originally meant to be an angel, but careless removal from his mold snapped off his wings.
So, when no one was looking, Newberry tried to achieve flight by flapping his arms. One day his arms came unhinged, slipped to the floor through the dark-blue sleeves of his casual, button-down cardigan and collided with a pair of four-inch heels — launching the occupant therein airborn until she finally came to rest on the makeup counter two isles over.
Newberry had achieved flight!
Armless ergo handless, Newberry gave himself a mental thumbs up.
Dr. Chris Clarke and Richard Freeman, a determined as all get out scientific researching duo from the Fortean Society, are, at this very moment, still wandering around the Australian outback looking and looking and looking for thylacines. Blazing a trail through camels, brumbies, dogs and dingoes — not to mention kangaroos, snakes and god only knows how many spiders, they will not give up until they find the extremely elusive thylacine, a creature that has been extremely elusive since it became extinct in the 1980’s.
After setting up camp in the Australian Outback, one of the remotest spots on planet earth, the researchers have failed to find a thylacine, but did manage to locate a Starbucks behind some Australian Outback bushes and used their Wifi to communicate that, although they haven’t found an actual thylacine as yet, they did manage to step in some suspicious looking dog droppings which the researchers dispatched to civilization for DNA testing via a Starbucks’ pastry delivery truck.
“The area is so damn remote,’ Freeman marveled while sipping his Grande, Iced, Sugar-Free, Vanilla Latte with Soy Milk, “that I’d say there is a reasonable population of thylacines left.”
“In fact, I’d say there are more thylacines around the world than Javan rhinos.” Freeman scientifically concluded just after stepping in a big pile of Javan rhino droppings.
Only one out of four scientists considers himself cute.
Scientists Now Believe Our Universe Is Filled with More Habitable Planets Than They Previously Thought.
Erik Petigura, a graduate student at the University of California at Berkeley and the lead author of a paper published Monday in a scientific journal called Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences for Long-Winded Scientific Journal Titles, that earth-like planets having the temperature of a cup of tea are common around sun-like stars and went so far as to say, “the finding represents one great leap toward the possibility of life , including intelligent life in the universe.” He failed to mention how big a leap this finding was to the tea lovers everywhere and seemed to care less about his omission.
Sara Seager, an astrophysicist at MIT who was not directly involved in the new analysis but who was walking by the door while the scientists were talking about it — on her way to the break room for more tea — pointed out to other scientists in the break room that “Earth-size doesn’t necessarily mean “Earth-like” but admitted the result will boost efforts to build telescopes that could obtain direct images on these planets. A point that would have been well taken by the break-room scientists had they not been sipping their tea so loudly.
Hi Ho Speedy Gonzales!
Scientists Warn that People Could be a Lot Shorter Tomorrow Than They Are Today.
A Team of Scientists from the University of Michigan have recently concluded after reading all about mammals in their Scientific Researcher’s Big Book of Mammals from 53 and 55 Billion Years Ago, that global warming is going to make people shorter.
“We are confident that we’re seeing that one response to global warming in the past was a decrease in mammal body size.” Lead Scientific Page-Turner, Philip Gingerich, stated while attempting to put a band-aid on his blistered index finger.
He then went on to state, “Bizarrely, fossil evidence from horses of the time indicated that they had reduced in size to something comparable to that of a small dog.” He then proceeded to hop on the back of his Mexican Chihuahua to reenact a possible scenario from 53 billlion years ago, but was immediately thrown off — which he quickly blamed on the blister on his index finger.
“Over the next few thousand years following the climate’s recovery, however, the animals gradually returned to their normal size,” Philip Gingerich was immensely relieved to conclude before hobbling away.
* * *
And that concludes this Monday’s edition of What the Scientists are Thinking About, Dear Readers!
Dear Readers, we’ve all been there! We’ve all been visitors at the Awkward Moment Hotel. Checking in on our own accord then unable to check out gracefully once the social faux pas has been made. Awkward moments like:
Asking when someone’s baby is due only to find out that not only is the person not pregnant, said person happens to be a man.
Inadvertently running over someone’s foot in the parking lot.
Making a humorous comment about somebody getting hanged to the person whose loved one just got hanged the day before yesterday!
Of course, I haven’t actually done any of these as yet. . . but it’s still early in the day. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of coming up with a few simple excuses –generic, one-size fits all excuses, — if you will — that we can keep up our sleeves should we find the need to smooth over “things” with a friend, a boss or the occasional nun.
Linda’s Generic Excuse #1:
Let’s say you happen to be strolling along the waterfront when you come across a big-bellied man whom you mistake for a pregnant woman and blurt out, “When’s the baby due?” As soon as you realize your blunder, you can quickly counter with Linda’s generic excuse #1:
“I’m sorry, my glasses are on back order.”
This should confuse the issue long enough with the longshoreman (or whomever) so that you can run away and take safe haven in the nearest strip joint.
Linda’s Generic Excuse #2:
Now let’s say you run over somebody’s foot in the parking lot — a scenario we’re all bound to experience at some point in our lives. No more filling out police reports! With Linda’s Generic Excuse #2, all you have to do is roll down your window and shout,
“I’m sorry, my crutches are on back order!”
This quickly implies to the injured party that 1) you have no control over your feet, and that 2) you are trying to do something about it but haven’t been very successful! And then simply drive off. No muss, no fuss.
Linda’s Generic Excuse #3
Now let’s say you go to a gathering and quickly take center stage telling a long, drawn-out, humorous story about somebody being hanged. When suddenly, you remember that your hostess’s husband, Joey, just got hanged day before yesterday.
Of course, it could be awkward when said hostess busts into tears, runs out of the room and is inconsolable for days . . but not any more! Thanks to Linda’s Generic Excuse #3– you now simply say:
“I’m sorry, my medications are on back order.”
This little phrase says everything without explaining anything. If uttered along with a tear or two, the hostess will not only remain your friend, she’ll probably be happy to drive you home.
So there you have it, Dear Readers, no more awkward moments! Now that you’ve got all the excuses you’ll ever need, get out there and mingle!
Welcome Dear Readers! This weekend’s Trifecta Writing Challenge asks us to write 33 words about a god of our own devising that rules over the human realm with 32 other gods.
Buddhist cosmology tells of Trāyastriṃśa, or the Heaven of Thirty-Three gods, which rule over the human realm. This weekend we’re asking for exactly 33 of your own words about a god of your own devising that shares heaven with the other thirty-two gods. –
The Candidate Who Won the Position for 33rd Wisdom Tooth God
Position desired: Wisdom Tooth God
Salary Desired: 10% Commission on Gross Tooth Fairy Revenue
Previous experience: Baby Tooth – ten years
Reason for leaving: String on doorknob
Professional Goals: To one day be crowned
“Hey look everybody! Here comes the new Wisdom Tooth God.” “That guy? I’ve seen smarter cavities than him!”
Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge! This week we are asked to write a story from 33 to 333 words using the third definition of the word craft: skill in deceiving to gain an end.
The Dystopic World of The Angela Lansburyians.
Angela Lansbury’s smiling face stared up at Jessica as she slowly pushed the currency across the table to the Tarot Card reader.
“An Angela ten? Most pay only five. You are generous! I haven’t seen one of these since before the Lansbury Cloning Wars!”
“Has it been that long? Hail Angela!” Jessica said. “Who can keep track of such things with the world in the state it is?
“Hail Angela.” The Tarot Card reader fingered her cards. “Tell me! Today’s children have no respect for the old ways. I saw a little boy throwing eggs on the Angela Shrine in the city square yesterday.”
Jessica gasped.
“Yes! Right under the nose of his mother who was reading her Angela Lansbury Bible “Hail Angela!”
“Hail Angela!”Jessica echoed. “Can you spread out the Tarot cards on my behalf, Sister Fletcher?” Jessica leaned forward intently as the Tarot Card Reader plied her craft. She closed her eyes and felt the secrets of the cards come into her fingertips before pulling one from the center of the deck.
The first card, the fool: Angela Lansbury walking towards a cliff. “A change is coming.” Sister Fletcher proclaimed.
Then the second card: The High Priestess: Angela Lansbury seated on a thrown. “She represents secrets.”
The Tarot Card reader then selected the last card: Death: Angela Lansbury on a white horse. “Death is coming. I’m so sorry . . .” she whispered.
Jessica searched the eyes of this sister clone, “Then if death is to come, it will be you.” Jessica pulled her knife and stabbed the Tarot Card reader in the heart.
“Sorry Sister Fletcher,” Jessica said as she drug her body to the back room, “but death needed you today.” She heard the front door open.
Welcome Sister Fletcher! Jessica said to the woman who was an identical image of herself. “Would you like a tarot card reading?”
Angela Lansbury’s smiling face stared up at her as the woman slowly pushed the currency across the table.
In The Scorpio Races, author Maggie Stiefvater writes, “It is the first day of November and so, today, someone will die.” Give us the next thirty-three words of this story, as you imagine it. Take it wherever you like, but make it original and make it 33 words exactly.
How Swiss Cheese Got Its Holes
“It is the first day of November and so, today, someone will die.”
Are you psychic?
Yes. On 11/2/13 a torpedo will blow up the world’s largest block of cheese.
Another psychic message?
No it’s on my calendar: Buy cheese-destroying torpedo, locate world’s largest block of cheese.
One state -of-the- art, cheese- seeking torpedo down one world’s-largest-block-of-cheese to go!
Linda Vernon Humor 