Tuesday, June 23, 2009
The Bless-ED Day Looms Ahead
You all know that blessed is pronounced like the above when used in sentences pertaining to significant events, right? Like for instance, were you to go to a Peter Yorn concert and "accidentally" he slipped on some honey that came out of a bear that someone had greedily loaded their cup of tea up with at Starbucks and his shoe first got stuck and then he went flying because there were marbles and banana peels everywhere and he landed in the audience and the audience didn't recognize him, they thought he was some sort of duck and they got scared because ducks have a tendency to bite so they quick plucked him thinking if he had no feathers there was a smaller chance of him getting them with his beak but seeing as he really didn't have feathers to begin with they were his arms and the only thing they could get to come off were his posable (that's right) thumbs. He used to pose them a lot in a Fonzie way but that's all over now. So then Peter is carrying on because he's really sticky and he has no thumbs, posable or opposable to speak of and it's time for his second set. By this time the audience realizes their mistake. They are feeling a little stupid for mistaking Peter as a duck when he looks much more like a goose so they keep trying to pass him around the crowd like a balloon at a concert because they don't want anyone to think they did it. Eventually some trickster tries to pop the Peter balloon. Oh that smarted all right. He flew up in the air in pain but miraculously he managed to get to the stage. He looked at his watch and realized it was one day until it was exactly six months from Christmas Eve so he decided he should sing a special song. So he started with Happy Birthday because he likes to think of the baby Jesus as a mischievous badger. Don't we all?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
26 comments:
I know I do
Sorry to interrupt, but we've got a gig over at your place tomorrow for some sort of celebration. The other dwarfs are excited and and want to make sure you fill the kiddy pool with regular hummus for the wrestling matches. And as for your, ahem, "special request", we legally can't do that, but are totally impressed by your creative thinking.
You shouldn't make fun of my Petey. He grew up thinking he was a duck and being the supportive parents we are, we let him sleep in the bathtub and fed him Wonder Bread three times a day. Tell you what, he was the finest Duck Duck Goose player on the block. Anyway, I'm still looking for Petey. He needs to mow the lawn and Snow White is tailgating in the driveway.
We are all here this time Amy. It's a bit murky by the way. Could you please shake your head like a wet dog and clear out some of the funk? Nice post. We don't think the white van parked out front is anything to be worried about, but just in case you may want to fire hummus filled balloons at it and escape out the back. We bet your mom is glad the crazy genes skipped a generation and landed fully on you. Whoa, the gerbil is running really fast on the wheel right now. Uh oh Amy, what are you planning now?!!!!
Daffy is such a space case. He landed on his head during the midget toss last night. He was supposed to remind you to have plenty of duct tape available and that we are not amused when people serve us pigs in a blanket claiming they are hot dogs. And please, no fun size snickers bars. That is degrading.
I don't know how he found me, but Pete Yorn was curled up in the fetal position under my desk. I was flattered because most people don't hang with me even though I'm the last person on earth. It is good to have a friend, even if it's Pete Yorn with his hand in his mouth where the thumbs are supposed to be. He kind of smells like duck poop though. I left to get a fire extinguisher to clean him up but he was gone when I got back. I think I'll start a fan club.
*pantomining a disheveled crazy man with a guitar, no thumbs, and duck feathers muttering something about turkey bacon birthday cake and a bus ticket to Happy Lane in Pennsyltucky*
Dear Twist:
You.
Complete.
Me.
The fire marshall says we are all set for tomorrow. We aren't sure about the live band though. Our surprise guest was last seen under someone's desk holding turkey bacon coupons. But we think the dwarfs will more than compensate - they do a sweet irish river dance to polka music.
*strutting over*
Hey Lora, how are YOU doing? Down here, look down here. There you go. How are YOU doing?
*running over with hummus flying out of bathing suit*
The mimes are coming, the mimes are coming! Run for your lives!
I take a couple of days off to go to Richmond and this is what happens.....????!!!
"Starbucks" and "Tea" in the same sentence is just wrong.
See you tomorrow!
Hey there Kathy. Need a date for tomorrow? I gotta be honest with you. Sit down. No really, please sit down, I can't see you way up there. I was talking to Prancer and Daffy, my dwarf bruthas, and they are excited about Amy's birthday (you probably haven't heard, but her b-day is tomorrow). Well Amy has this freakish problem with people that sneeze and I'm banned from the party. I was thinking we could help each other out. You bring me as your date and I'll give you a little sumthin sumthin in return. Little may be literal, but small is the new big. Shall I wear my leather pants?
Hey there Sleezy. Thanks the leather pants offer - it was kind. (I don't care what Amy says about you.)
But I will relinquish the title of "Most Time Spent Commenting on Amy's Blog" to you. Congratulations!! You have earned it. Stand proud and tall. Okay, maybe not that tall, but you get the general idea.
Amyshroom (Yes, shroom): I'm so glad we're not paying attention to that pesky restraining order anymore. Oh, how I've yorned for something to entertain me at our next bonfire. What's her name - Kreosote, Krayola...??? - how'd she feel about the epiglottis and, you know, it's culinary properties?
Shout!: I get that a lot from people named Shout!, but there's something I must explain. You see, I'm definitely not an "AND" kinda girl. Think "twisted" or "with a twist."
Wow, we're all a little hopped up or should I say "twisted" today.
Starbucks anyone? Or two or three?
Happy birthday Amy!! We'd high five you, but uh, you know. We understand you are out with your girly friends right now. Please bring them home with you. We have the pillows ready and no, those aren't video cameras.
Hey Kathy - I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy that can fix your 'n' key from making an 'l'. As for the commenting title, it's two to two now baby. You are still in the running. My leather pants are a bit restrictive on that running thing, so you have a clear advantage. I look forward to our date tonight. I think it is sweet that you sent me a private email about your odd fetishes. I will be sure to bring all the things from your list.
Hey twist. I'm bummed I'm just another one of your millions of suitors. My friend Sick And will be bummed to. Stupid AND.
Merry New Year, Dahling!
Shout: I say "think 'twisted'" and you're disappointed? Oh, how I've misread you!
I came to say Happy Birthday, but Oh, Holy Night, now I'm scared. Except for Lora, are these real people? Tell me no please.
Love, Mom
Hey Twisted; wisted is kind of the norm around here. You know better than most. It all starts with the author of the post. Who just turned 26 by the way. So I hear. She prolly doesn't want much shouting today, so I'm gonna lay low.
Hey Meredith, what in the world are we gonna do about these kids? I'm glad you are here. I've been meaning to talk to you about the bullying your daughter has been doing to my son. Don't get me wrong, Amy is an angel and you've done well. But my Petey is 'special' and sometimes that doesn't mix well with crazy, as in the cool kind.
TWENTY-SIX??? Beguiling thing, isn't she? I guess there are some things she hasn't shared. For instance, do you know Amy repented in isolation in the Himalayas for at least 285 years (who can really keep track?)? And prior to that she kept a man-harem for almost 150 years. Seeing as one isn't likely to start such a business until age 12 or so, that conservatively puts her at 351 years old. Remarkable, but anything's possible when you subsist on only air and tiny mushrooms. Twenty-six. Hmph.
Googi, thanks for that information. Amy never tells me anything. She is very quiet and keeps to herself. She is one of those people that you didn't even notice was in the room.
Rumor has it that comments are going to be limited to just one short entry for those jerks that have infiltrated this blog. I think that keeping things short is really rude to all the dwarfs. Good thing I'm pretty sure I'm exempt from the new rules since Twist and I are such good buddies.
Post a Comment