What you’re going to get is a 1997 Ford F150, a buttload of cigarette lighters and a cooler. And that’s only if the MMP meet-up thingy is in Cincinnati(ish). ‘Cause Cincinnati(ish) is at the bottom part of Ohio, and there’s only two ways around that huge friggin’ lake, and what’s a couple of hundred miles between friends?
That’s uncalled for from a guy who eats Chineese and the farts tsunamis.
S is for swampbear:
[quote]
The Gashlycrumb Tinies**
Because he linked a sh*t-eating poem that pisses me off beyond all rational belief, and makes me think he did it deliberatly like a gf@%&m m#@%&%@$@&er.
Personally, I’ve always been partial to Nelville, who died of ennui. Sad about Winnie though, embedded in ice and all. Perhaps she shouldn’t have opted for the butt-less chaps.
I’m particularly fond of “T is for Titus who flew into bits.”
Obviously “B is for Basil asaulted by bears” would intrigue me. He shouldn’t oughta have messed with the bears’ beer and cookie supplies. We don’t like that.
Rhoda looks like a case of spontaneous combustion.
Ex all I can say is Ashes[sup]2[/sup] started it. I hadn’t thought about “The Gashleycrumb Tinies” since last Saturday afternoon when they came up in discussion following New Year’s dinner. Yes, dinner. In the south we have dinner in the middle of the day, except when we’re being all fancy and have it at night. Why did “The Gashleycrumb Tinies” come up in conversation you ask? Well, it was a natural segueway from conversation about “The Curious Sofa” which one of my guests had recently read and was commenting about. I need a copy of “The Curious Sofa” cause ACBG wants to read a pornographic, but not really, story.
Ashes[sup]2[/sup] I think we should have some fried hot dogs to go along with the peanut butter crackers and cocoa. I really want a fried hot dog. I want some Scotch Eggs too. I think Edward Gorey would really enjoy being undead. Sounds like something right up his alley.
This week’s MMP is one of the weirdest in a long time.
tanookie, I usually remember what day it is, but I don’t know how often I look for the MMP, decide it has dropped to the second page, and only then find out I am in IMHO.
I guess my mousing skills are deserting me.
Now I am full of MMP Tinies.
“M is for merrily, who was buried quite warily.” (I picture Gorey people filling in a grave with shovels with very long handles, and one clawed hand coming over the edge of the grave.)
“V is for VunderBob, who died in a flame,
An unwary resolution was surely to blame.”
And my current favorite:
“A is for Ashes[sup]2[/sup], who dies of some gashes[sup]2[/sup].”
No, DUH!!! I feel like the AFLAC duck after his run in with Yogi in the Barber Shop. I don’t like K is for Kate done in by an axe, specially since Kate is one of the nicknames for my first name. It’s all bloody an all…
Upon re-reading this morning, I have to agree. At the time I posted that yesterday I was still drinking my coffee, and coffee-beer just didn’t sound like a good idea.
It could be a good idea at some point in my life, though. If I had coffee-beer right now I’d be warm (it’s brrrr-y out), awake, and less bored (I’m at work). We used to have beer in our fridge here and we were allowed to have one or two if we were working OT. But it’s been awhile since anyone’s been on a beer run.
EBM stands for Electric Body Movement. I think. Anyway, Shibb was close :D. It’s goth pop dance music. Like regular dance, but with heavier and faster beat (I think) and less cheerful music. The lyrics don’t alway tend to be about love, either. There’s usually sort of depressing. Depressing or weird. The music is bouncy, though! Bounce bounce bounce.
There’s a winter storm watch. It’s supposed to be horrible in the MidWest. Everyone okay?
It passed through Kansas and most of Missouri yesterday. Ice, sleet, rain, snow, you name it, we had it. We didn’t lose power or nothing. I survived by staying home yesterday and working on a quilt. I was kind of a wimp. I could have driven in it, I just didn’t want to.
Just so you know, I will be coming back for my curtain calls.
It’s fun to be morbid in the morning.
T is for Tupug who was crushed by a hug.
T is for Tupug, when she ate a big bug.
T is for Tanookie who ran afoul of a bookie.
W is for Wintermute who was just much too cute.
S is for Swampbear who thought nobody’d care.
Gashes?! Yeah, that’s fairly likely. But not from walking into a helicopter’s blades please. I remember that from the Indiana Jones movie and it certainly made an impression. As well as a mess.
P is for 'puggy, attacked by some Thugees.
S is for Swampbear who burned off all his hair. Why was his hair burnt? Because he tried to fry hot dogs at my cookout. I don’t have a fryer and I shudder to think of the splatter and pop of frying a hot dog in an open pot. Where might we get a proper fryer, hmmm? Put the quesadilla maker down Ex. Scout and I will give the procurer of the fryer extra minimarshmallows.
Maudie was only five when she was discovered gazing at a dead bird by Madam Trepidovska.
