Sunday, October 30, 2005

Fun with Homophones

The other day on my way home, my friend and I were driving behind this guy.


Hay-toting trucks are a fairly common sight in our neck of the prairie, and everytime we see one, we shout, "HEY! HAY!"

Getting closer, though, we realized: "Hey! That hay is just about to fall off that there truck!"

Although we spent a couple seconds giggling at how "funnier n' crap" it would be to see someone crashing into hay and said hay exploding all over the road like some kinda dead grass blizzard, we soon thought, "Hey, that could be us behind that hay..." and "Hey, someone else would rear end us. Hey, that's not funny."

So we pulled up next to the truck and my friend waved at the cowboy driver, who, from beneath his hat of straw, smiled, and said, "Hey."

"HEY! You don't understand! HAY! Check yer HAY!" we hollered.

But it wasn't any use. He kept tooling that duallie on down the road, and a couple blocks later he turned off.

I guess we'll never know, in that particular instance, whether cows supped or an insurance company cussed.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Thor's Day




For some reason, Thor's Day has become a drinking day.

A mini celebration of/by your fucking self day.

And I don't know why.

And if you've got a reason, post it here.

But right now, my only reason is ritual.

So cheers. :)

Sunday, October 23, 2005

' ' ' ' ' pillar of the Earth


' ' ' ' ' pillar of the earth
unbeknowst to me
I was farming you and dozens of your squishy brethren
amongst the lurid proliferation of morning glories
and moonflowers
that I thought would be pretty
in front of the house.

Though for weeks I saw, indirectly,
you, in senseless, bloated gluttony,
making the obscenely verdant, lustily growing heart-shaped leaves holy,
I did not ken to the fact that middle-finger sized brownish larvae
were living in harmony (sin?) with pencil-thick creepers of fluorescent green,
One of whom yesterday clung squirmily to my shirt as I passed
Nearly causing a freakout and/or vomiting.

O ' ' ' ' ' pillar
when the blustering wind knocked the trellis free from the wall
the roots of vines held on
You must have slammed in soft, wormy brainlessness to the ground

And perhaps, in momentary, dull wonder that you did not get impaled that time
Found squashing mortality the next moment beneath my sandal
And I, lifting the trellis again to the wall
Began a dance of horrified chagrin
As the miniature wave of green, gooey innards
kissed my foot's bare arch.

O ' ' ' ' ' pillar of the earth
You shall have your revenge
For the next 12 days when I think on you
A gagging will manifest in my throat
A sickness in my gut.

Perhaps we should blame the wind, ' ' ' ' ' pillar
Or the sun that grew the seeds
For this unwanted exchange of death and horror
That came between us
Between you and your morphing from disgusting into beautiful.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Video killed the...

Yesterday I had to videotape myself for a school assignment.

Rather than the intended purpose of causing me to reflect upon my professional skills, it rather drove me into a blizzard of self-deprecation regarding my physical appearance, demeanor, and romantic prospects.

Conclusions:

1) I exude no sex appeal whatever, in the absence of cantilevered* physical attributes.

2) I'm not that hot a dresser, most days.

3) I should really not push my hair behind my ears like that.

4) The thought, "Oh. Wow. Who would want to mate with that?"

So, legions of manhood who are neither elbowing nor jousting one another in a frenzied rush for my attentions, I forgive you.

Now I understand.

* - "cantilevered" used courtesy of Margaret Atwood, The Edible Woman

Saturday, October 08, 2005

I am so there

Cowboys Dance Hall -- Arlington, Texas
Dwight Yoakam

Saturday, October 8, 2005
TICKETS ONLY $12!!!
-------------------


Turns out they don't ask if you're a country music poseur, they just take your $12.oo and don't worry about how many Judas Priest concerts you've been to.

I'll let y'all know if I get arrested for Attempting to Touch the Boots of Dwight Yoakam or anything (although I'm in the cheap seats so that's not likely).

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Crazy Cowboy

My drive to work through the ghettos and the grottoes of this fair city washes up oh, so many lovely specimens of our species to my consciousness.

This a.m. I'm hurtling between the speed and school zones when a light stops me. While sitting there waiting, I spot a black-clad cowboy, wearing flip flops and a black Stetson with a fancy silver-concho band about the crown. He's sucking on a stub of a cigarette as if it contained the breath of life and bopping along the sidewalk, jamming out to something on his headphones.

Coming up beside him on the left is a gang-emblazoned "no parking" sign. He keeps bopping, but as he approaches the sign, he eyes it suspiciously.

Apparently that sign must've whispered somethin' impertinent to that lone ranger, 'cause he wheeled on it and slammed it an audible right hook on its back side, leaving me to finish the drive to work stunned at the insanity lurking everywhere.
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