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Category Archives: Random Stuff

I couldn’t think of anything useful to say. Might have zillions of posts in this one.

Notice my clever use of homophones.  This is the epitome of true genius.

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My friend’s cat may have cancer.  Its back leg is swollen and has two lumps on it.  It will be going to visit the veterinarian tomorrow to determine the cancerousness of the bumps.  In the chance that it does have cancer, my friend’s mother is taking pictures of children with Cancer Cat to remember it.  Pictures are five dollars for non-family members.  If you are interested, comment, and I’ll not get back to you because I’m not actually trying to solicit anything.  Sadness fills the cat-loving sector of my soul.

A trip to visit my aunt in Michigan brought into my possession a bird clock.  Walking through the clock section of a store, I saw it, and my father’s interest in its uniqueness along with my passion for birds convinced him to open the wallet and swipe the card.  The clock is birdish, in that at each of the twelve spots where a number would be, is an illustration of a friendly songbird.  On each hour, the bird chosen by the hour hand sings his song.  It  is a magical experience, and though others warn me that its novelty with fade away into annoyingness, I cannot see that in my future.

This past week my computer died, and all files and stuff were lost.  Being without a computer for a few days (and being unable to post on my oh-so-frequently updated blog) was not much fun.  But, I have returned, and now the world can start revolving again.

I recently wrote the letters SGT on my hand, as reminders.  I do things like this fairly often; however, this was one of the most obscure significations on my hand, as it stood for “Stab Bob Goose Transformer.”  Anyone who asked me what it stood for received that answer.  They were still confused, and I was enthralled.

Grocery shopping with my mother is fun, mostly because I’m surrounded by food, but today was especially fun, thanks to some old guy.  He was standing in my mother’s way as she was pushing the cart.  When he became aware of this, he excused himself, and said to my mother, “You can hit me if you want.”

This was a shocking and hilarious thing to hear from him, but if that wasn’t enough, he pointed to his wife and said, “Whenever I get in her way, that’s what she does.”  He pointed to a bruise on his hand.  “You see what she did?  She’s so mean!”

He finished with this: “She’s so mean, I saw her pushing little ducks into the water!”  I assume that’s old-person-speak for “she cuts up puppies to eat”, or similar.

Likely the coolest old guy ever.

Steve stared down into the abyssal crevice.  The twilit atmosphere contributed to the bottomless effect.  Steve kicked a rock into it, and heard its resounding clangs and crashes against the sides for what seemed hours, though this timeless land had no way to tell, but by the sun.  The land was still twilit after he looked up, the rock having made a final sound–a plop into deep water.  Then Steve realized what a mistake he had made.  That was the rock he was saving for his rock collection.  He fell to his knees, lifted his head to the appearing stars, and roared in agony, “WHY?”

Whenever I become a famous rapper I will call myself “KornDawg.”

If I ever get rabies I hope I don’t suffer the same fate as Old Yeller.

I’ve been lacking in inspiration for blog posts lately, so I think I’ll just type whatever and see what comes of it.  Here I go:

Floppy fish flop floppily on the dock.  A sea monster joins them.  Its thrashing destroys a city.  The people in the city run to escape, but a voodoo spell cast upon the city by an evil witch doctor resident curses them all, and they fall to the ground, flopping floppily like fish flopping.  CANADIANS!  CANADIAN BACON!  Help is on the way!  Help is on the way, but slowly because the fire trucks were replaced with flopping floppy fish.  It smells of dying fish.  Of dead fish.  Or rotting fish carcasses.  Curse you witch doctor, for you have cursed us.  Our bones with lie about the land and crunch beneath your step and you will never forget the souls you destroyed.

I came up with this like four days ago:

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

That first line’s cliché,

And the second one too.