schplog

Thanks to Reuters Oddly Enough for this little bit of historically-minded fun.

Note that the spokesman for the law — the one making fun of “varmints” — is named Clem. And then see if you can avoid reading the next article about the Russian woman who set her ex-husband’s penis on fire. I mean, ew.

If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s men’s loafers with tassels.

Penny loafers are pretty bad but it’s the tassels that get me. It’s just not … masculine. And if you wanna go femme, try a hot pink stiletto.

I just dumped a guy for showing up to the opera in tasseled footwear. Thanks to Don McLean for giving me the idea of doing it by way of a friend.

And if he asks you why, you can tell him that I told you
That I’m tired of tassles in the air.
I’ve got a basic sense of taste, decency and style I want the world to share
And tassled shoes just lead me to despair.

Save me from all the trouble and the pain.
I know I’m weak, but I can’t face those shoes again.
Tell him the reasons why I can’t explain,
Perhaps he’ll understand if you point to your mary jane.

There were twelve in the bed
And the little one said
Roll over, roll over
So they all rolled over and one fell out

There were eleven on the bed
With a bump on the head
And the little one said
Roll over, roll over
So they all rolled over and one fell out

…. [several verses later] ….

There were two in the bed
With a bump on the head
And they were all seeing red
‘Cause they thought they were dead
And they couldn’t get ahead
With a tush full of lead
And a milkman named Fred
And Rosebud a sled
An an adventure with Bill and Ted
From Alpha to Zed
Because, baby, Zed is dead
And the little one said
Roll over, roll over
So they all rolled over and one fell out

There was one in the bed
And the little one said
Good night!

My friend Jeff has lost it completely, crazy as a loon. We all thought it was “just a phase”, but it’s actually more like cyclical bouts of madness interspersed with periods of lucidity marked by vague yet disturbing eccentricities.

When he’s up, everything is up. Sure he’s nuts but at least he’s happy that way. It’s all the realm of light winning out over darkness, the Living Spirit, the emanation of the light realm. But then he plunges into darkness, despair and irritating depression. Just as he says in his fits of freakout, “It’s the dualism, man.”

Turns out he’s Manichaean-depressive.

My stepmother is loaded. And we can’t stand her. Sure she’s phenomenally wealthy but she’s also unbearable to be around. She hates when we kiss up to her and she also hates when we don’t kiss up. If we don’t visit we’re screwed and if we do visit we get in trouble if we stay too long. And we’re expected to bring presents and tell her how great she is all the time. Which we only do in the hopes that she’ll leave us some money someday. As she well knows.

Last week she announced that we couldn’t come to dinner because she had a bladder infection. But she wanted us to feel sorry for her and stuff. So I found this special tea online — it’s made with cranberry extract and it’s supposed to help with urinary tract issues — and had sixteen cartons of it delivered to her house. With a get well card saying how great she is and how much we all like her, etc.

Well, she was livid. It totally backfired. She called me up that night and said, “Honey, bladder tea will get you nowhere!”

Egads. I will not be bested by the snickering post below. Schplogosphere be damned. The madness must cease.

1. Gratuitous
2. Poltroon
3. Effervescent
4. Toga
5. Masticate
6. Gaudy
7. Smorgasbord
8. Pontificate
9. Refurbish
10. Fizzle

Top this if you dare!

1. Hornswoggle
2. Bedazzle
3. Iridescent
4. Lavish
5. Recalcitrant
6. Pop
7. Radish
8. Cymbal
9. Veranda
10. Rambunctious