April 2009
28 posts
2 tags
The screams seemed to come from everywhere, especially after we installed surround sound.
March 2009
31 posts
2 tags
Sara was voted “Most Likely to Cry Upon Being Passed Over for this Award”.
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We discovered that tempura was not time-traveling seafood after we had built the tempura box, which is to say, far too late.
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There were two sets of footprints in the sand followed by smudges. In retrospect, we should’ve known about Jesus’ sack-race addiction earlier.
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The party seemed to go on forever, especially after somebody vomited on all the clocks.
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For High School Musical 4: Old Testament, we cast Delilah as a cheerleader, Noah as Linus from Peanuts, and God as Xenu. We were sued by several different interest groups.
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Jeff thought the barbecue sauce slogan “It does do Babe.” was particularly cavalier.
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Why do children cry? If all you saw were crotches and legs, and you’d be pissed off too.
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The joy ride was cut short as the car sped past the intersection of Darfur Avenue and SIDS Street.
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They said the tomatoes were infested with salmonella, sure, but why are salmon fucking our tomatoes?
1 tag
Every time the red Facebook icon pops on, I squeal a little. But if you talk to me in real life, so help me God, I will Columbine the whole place up.
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“OK, guys, I want a sport where dolphins secretly make fun of us. / Let’s call it rowing. / Great work, Jeff. OK, let’s break for lunch.”
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“What is this?” said Jeff. “That’s St. John’s Worts.” Jeff pointed to a jar of red pimples. “And what’s this?” “I can tell you one thing: it’s not delicious.”
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“What is this?” he said, pointing to the pastry puff. “It’s baklava.” “And what is this?” he said, pointing to the liquid hairy bacon. “It’s backlava.”
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There was a pregnant pause. Jeff stood up in anger and stormed out. Joy turned into grief as the pregnant pause realized that she was yet another single mother.
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Tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms further. So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past in our time machines.
“I exude authority like I exude semen,” said Jeff. He whispered, “copiously.”
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“Come on, Harry! Cast the spell!” shouted Hermione. Harry tried desperately to conjugate the Latin verb in the subjunctive. The monster roared, killing them.
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Jeff had turned a new leaf, so he laughed, pulled a pencil out of his beard, and chalked another tally line in his cardboard mansion.
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Someone had poured kerosene over the graveyard. The next day, it was in flames. The day after, so was the country.
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As Big Obesity lobbied against the act, which now included bridges and railroads, large men and women around the country armed themselves with guns and Lipitor.
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A news crew came to cover the event, setting up HQ at the graveyard. They put camera tripods over the dirt until the Earth was a waffle of children’s corpses.
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They gathered around the new graveyard, planted, and wept. It was a reelection year. A charismatic congressman said he wanted to bar obese men from balconies.
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They took the morbidly obese corpse away. They left the children there, shoveling dirt for days on top until the Earth was level again.
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Without a balcony to support him, the morbidly obese man fell downward, his shadowing encompassing a larger and larger quantity of unaware children.
Jeff always looked before he lope, which made his jumps a little weird without contacts.
Before she was divorced, she was known as Joan of Circle.
Remember, kids, you can’t spell non-consensual without also spelling sensual.
As the police closed in on Jake’s criminal syndicate, Jake wondered if the extreme jaywalking striptease mafia had all been worth it.
Her eyes were windows into her soul, but we all thought the windowsill eye tattoos were overdoing it.
Dear diary, today I learned that toddler surgery is not intuitive.