Misfire the first
So I happened to glance at my header image and the phrase "bird on a wireframe" popped into my head.Now why didn't I think of that?
I mean... I did think of that, but why didn't I think of that when I was trying to think of a name for the blog?
(The question is rhetorical, incidentally.)
Misfire the second
So I'm sitting here in my crappy little cubicle, debugging a wad of brittle C++ code that's broken because of someone else's inattention to detail. Time passes. I'm neck deep in the stuff and haven't even noticed that I've gone from 6:45 and my second cup of coffee to lunch time in the blink of an eye.And then it hits me: the smell of burnt popcorn, wafting across the prairie dog colony like one of those phantasmal hands that emerge from cartoon pies and hook the nostrils of unwary characters with their wispy fingers. Like an olfactory alarm clock, same time every day.
My snoot has been awakened now, and I'm aware of other scents. Someone else in the area has turned loose into the common atmosphere something that strikes me as a cross between beef stew and a dead fish. I have the momentary sense that I've been transported to a movie theater full of field tripping third graders, several of whom have just succumbed to flu season and upchucked their lunches.
Maybe today would be a good day to take my Fritos and my baloney and Swiss sandwich to the break room to eat.
Now playing: Steve Earle and the Del McCoury Band, The Mountain
6 comments:
Oh my! What a description on the office smells you were experiencing. Made me wanna cough up a fur ball. That could be the key to losing weight...reading your rather vivid descriptions of disgusting smells. Gross.
Yeah, but notwithstanding all that, I'm still having a pretty good day!
prairie dog colony? I get a nice mental picture of the overwhelming amounts of fun you must have on a day to day basis. Third graders cannot smell that bad..
I have a good one today:
"fxrsizs"
Term used to describe the outcome on a body that has no physical activity paired with consuming liberal amounts of aforementioned microwave popcorn (with extra butter).
Steve Earle isn't dead—not that he didn't take a full swing at it back in the '90s.
Sweetie Turtle doesn't bathe the cats with her tongue. She does kiss them on their heads a lot and rub their bellies, though.
I don't think there was any mention of flatuation [sic]. Only upchucking. However, if one were to cough up a furball, it would sound quite a bit like today's WV: "umxhgk".
;lkksflkjsdl;afjdk sdjfs;dfjs; sldjfsldjf lkdjfslkf j
In our house we call them "bootie bubbles".
When I was in high school or college, I can remember my mother calling them "tharts". The younger kids were going through a phase where farts were the most hilarious thing on the planet. I'm not sure how, but she thought adding "thart" to the pantheon of thinly-veiled curses and blasphemies (i.e., "darn", "heck", "goldurn it", "shoot", "frickin') would made a difference.
It didn't, except to somehow legitimize talking about farts. Armed with a safe word with which to discuss gas, the siblings went wild. For my own part, I'd long since gotten past thinking the word itself was funny.
Say what you will; the subject is still frickin' hilarious. Anyone who denies it is kidding herself.
Which is good, because in a largely unfunny world full of gassy people, we need an abundant natural fuel for giggles.
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