What if...?

What if instead of eating, we had to exercise or work out? Now, what if, to exercise, we had to eat? Wouldn't that be just plain weird?

I've been thinking a lot lately about various things, such as limos, lima beans, limes, limbo, etc. Limos are very cool. I've only been in one once, though, and that was when my grandmother died. Not the happiest time, but the limo was still cool. Lima beans don't seem to be a very popular vegetable. I don't know why, either. I like them, especially when they're cooked and with spices on them! Then again, when they're cooked they lose most of the nutrients...limes. I once had a drink called "Limeade". It was a mix of lemonade and lime juice. Despite sounding horrible, it was actually quite good. Limbo...I don't know why I wrote down limbo, I think it was just to go with the "lim" theme.

I heard the funniest speech at a Bat Mitzvah today. As you may or may not know, at my synagogue the parents write a speech about their kids after the B'nai Mitzvah says theirs. The mom went first in this one and cried halfway through it (tears of joy, not sadness). The dad went next. His speech consisted of something like the follwing: "The Rabbi told us we should keep the speeches to 90 seconds or so. My wife has taken 3 minutes, without the crying, so I'll have to keep my speech brief, direct, and to the point. Fill in the blanks for yourself. (Edited Out Name for Privacy). Insert embarrasing anecdote here, admirable qualities, short paragraph on how much work you did, congratulations. The end." He then walked off the beama. It was hilarious!

The Tuskegee Airmen are a boring topic. Don't do a project on them.

Do you like them in a boat?
Would you like them with a tote?
How long do you think I'll rhyme?
As long as words exist like chime?
I doubt I'll do this much more.
After all, it's quite a bore.

That is my poem of the day. As for my poem of the week, month, season, and year, well, they never existed and won't ever be made. Unless I feel like it.

Microphones seem to be the bane of non-Broadway shows. No, they seem to be the bane of Broadway shows, too. To keep it simple, mics seem to be the bane of all shows. Many a show has been worsened by the fact that a microphone does not work. For example, in You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown, the mics were awful...so awful, we had to go through the second act without them. In The Phantom of the Opera, when I saw it on Broadway, Christine's mic was acting up...she'd be loud, then soft, then loud, then soft, then loud, then louder...well, you get the point. Many of 'Stoga's shows have also been worsened by bad mics...I could barely hear some of the things they were singing during their production of Evita! I could go into more detail, but I shant.

I don't think people realize that if you can ask someone if you're insane, you most likely aren't.

Paper towels will waste away all the trees in our world. So will napkins. And paper, too. And pencils. Have you seen how much paper and wood is used in the world? There's a lot. Just look around your computer and count how many items are made from trees. Huh. I think I missed Tu BiSh'vat...

Let me ask you this. What kind of creature would evolve so that its own immune system attacks itself? I'll let you ponder on that for a while while I wait until TV Turn Off Week is over so that Maeve can post a post here.

Staplers

Happy TV Turn-Off Week! If you're reading this, you obviously don't observe it. Shame on you! Then again, I can't say I observe it either. . .

*EDIT* To Carissa, who says "TV IS NOT COMPUTER!" During TV Turn-Off Week, you are technically supposed to avoid all screens.

Staplers. Few people realize the modern marvel that is the stapler. By pushing the top of the stapler down, it pushes the piece of metal down, curves it up, and POOF! It creates a staple in the paper! Alright, so it's not that amazing, but it's still...no, it's not really that cool. Next topic.

"But Mr. Adams! The things I write are only light..." 1776! Who doesn't love the musical? Actually a lot of people...

Pencils. I've found my topic of choice. No, I haven't. I can't think of anything. Dang it!

My creative juices have been running low recently. Not a good sign. That must mean that there are bigger fish in the sea that spot the large ships of turkeys that roam throughout the day. AKA, someone is stealing my creative juices! ToddD! It must be my monkey! I'll be back. I need to attack ToddD and steal my creative juices back.



I found a message in a bottle while searching for ToddD. It says:
BJ XYoQJ DoZW HRJaYiAJ OZNcJX! QoSL QiAJ YHJ aSYX! Wonder what it says.

CURSE YOU, RED BARON! CURSE YOU AND YOUR KIND! CURSE YOU AND THE EVIL THAT CAUSES ALL THIS UNHAPPINESS!

House Special

If you have read this blog before, or have met either one of us, you know that we have at least one forte in common; we can talk about nonsense for as long as we want. I have decided to find the limit of my God-given ability through this blog post. You are not required to read it, or even advised to for personal safety reasons. I do this in the name of science. Wish me luck.

Once under a time there was not a Larry. She found that it is blue and white, with those tiny, little, itsy-bitsy, eensy-weensy, smallish things slightly to the left of the air vent. And when it happened, the conjunction elbowed its way to the front of the sentence, making the dogs eat things that dogs cannot eat without a funnel and a snorkel. Had the darkness personified the lamb, the Earth would see in the mirror the opposite of lanyard: a hobbit. So it came to pass that the camera was invented, larking and twisting so that the flask of pumpkin juice seeped through the walrus, turning them all to stone. When in doubt hop on one foot and see the way the seams on the curtains break with the feather of a mop. There were mumbled oranges when I came sideways, reaching the top of the bottomless pit of larceny. Speaking of which, no. Folders of ladles ease the pain when moles come to wallow, Hank the Great. So I gnatted the whole lot of them, dipped them in tar, and called the fire brigade to send in the clowns. Cold feet in the summer is like patting a spiky-type lizard god without a head (on either the painter or the humanitarian). Save for this, the taste of rock musicians in mid-morning can be near the Land of the Flowing Typewriters. That's when it missed me completely and went on to hit someone else. At least, I think the kid in the double-barreled jumpsuit is the cranberry messenger. So says the two and only garage cleaner of the Western Isles, when the pogo sticks have all run out to buy the yoyo tool kit. The chemicals laughed, putting the omelets all over the museum entrance, with only a horse's winning nose to spare. Noodles of every shape and famine-bringing pest preference paraded in the closet, feeling the gallons of marble chippings being poured down the shirts of the wise men. Near that time, the Great carpet Revolt took the laundromat to the tailor's, crunching the lambasted parakeets in their shaving cream houses. A grandfather clock is worth more than a smaller grandfather clock when the tables of Autumn reach to the city and flick the windowsill with a q-tip. The flowing pants of crystalline nature cannot be hogtied by any other than the novice harbor master of Wyoming.

Alright. I got bored.

How to Get to Mars in 8 Sentences

The winners were Emma and a person who called themselves "Me".

The duck, who is a deformed duck first, and is thus wingless, will make a deal with the bartender that, if you take a cup and fill it with staples the said bartender will give him five billion cases of Red Bull, he won’t tell the police that the piano player was shot, because the piano player deserved it, because he had just spilled his beer on the piano, wrecking the sound FOREVER.
Billy Joel, who, upon the conclusion that the fact that the microphone smells like beer is not so bad, because Billy Joel likes his beer, has become sedated enough to reach behind the counter and pull out five billion cases of Red Bull, then you put the cup into a really hot fire, using the unconscious Argentinian as a lever, melting both the staples and the cup.
After which, the unconscious Argentinian, who turns out to be Madonna playing Evita in Evita: The New Version Which Does Not Include Any Songs That Are Catchy, So My Sister Will Stop Singing It, carves a CD into a shuriken, attatch steel wire to it, and throws it out the window aiming for a tree, suddenly waking up as she sees Billy Joel.
Then you use your new-found zip-line to suddenly, Billy Joel and the bartender are in a fistfight over who gets to say hi to Madonna first fly across your yard and smack dab into your tree, and as a result of this, Madonna falls back down, again unconscious.
After that, the duck, who has been unnoticed all this time, lugs all the Red Bull to the train station (with some difficulty, because of his wingless situation, and the fact that Madonna cannot be used as a lever) you walk back inside the house and catch sixteen chickens in fourteen seconds, and get on the “A” train to go to Sugar Hill in Harlem, but suddenly, there is a TRAIN CRASH and all the Red Bull, which has been put in very poorly constructed cans, explodes and falls on the duck, practically drowning it in all the wetness, however, like most ducks, this duck can swim.
Suddenly, the duck does one of those weird things where it sticks its head beneath the water, and when this is done, all you can see are its tail feathers, then open the phone book and call the number to your local detergent factory.
Lastly, the duck sprouts THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of pairs of wings, because, of course, you jump up, miss the ground, Red Bull gives you wings, and hit the ceiling, and levitates the train beyond this atmosphere and to MARS, where the duck and all the passengers on the train (who have miraculously not died) point and stare at all the Martians, and a mother scolds her child because he CAN’T SEE the Martians, because he tried to clean his glasses, but did a horrible job, and thus it is left to the mother to clean them AGAIN.
In a strange twist of events, if these eyewitness humans and this very strange duck come back down to Earth again, missing the ground and hitting the ceiling will land you on Mars and then they will say that the train DID INDEED reach Mars.

In conclusion...this is a very accurate way to get to Mars. I've reached Mars at least 3 times this way, word for word. Except, I didn't use a "suddenly" once and found myself on Jupiter's moon...but that's not the point.

As for "the even more agravated angie"...I have thus mentioned you. And talked about you. Thus, you can not complain anymore about me not mentioning you. :-P

Le Poisson d'avril

That's right, folks. It's another round of...Le Poisson d'avril!!!!!!!!!!!
Two points to those who know what language that's in. Three to those who know what it means. Four to those who don't know either.

Five and a half points to who ever (or is it whoever?) knows the answer to the following question:
"If a duck walks into a bar, the bar man shoots the piano player, Billy Joel walks in complaining that the microphone smells like beer, an unconscious Argentinian falls from teh ceiling, and a parent decides to clean a child's glasses because he did a horrible job, will the train reach Mars?" Extra credit: "Why are you reading this?"

Now, this was orignally written for...oh, why should I bother to tell you that junk? I shall now retitle this "When you see it, you"

Four score and seven years ago, something important happened. Something very important. Unfortunately, I don't know what that something was, so I can't talk about it. :-P

Now, as you are no doubt aware, the ants appear to have a brilliant plan with their lottery, but I have a much simpler way of winning the people to help me fight the ants.

Step 1: Find your cousin.
Step 2: Put your cousin in the cannon.
Step 3: Find another cousin.

However funny, I can not claim that I wrote it. I stumbled upon this whilst searching for something I can't remember, and thus I can't cite the source, either. Ah, well, another day, another death trap. That's from "Ratchet and Clank 3: Up Your Arsenal" for those of you who don't know your videogame lines. Anyway, to my real plan.

Step 1: The step that preceeds Step 2.
Step 2: The step that is used in combination with Step 3 to prepare for Step 4.
Step 3: The step that usually takes place during or immediatly after Step 2.
Step 4: The step that is changed due to certain circumstances that arose during Steps 1, 2, and 3.
Step 5: The step that follows Step 4.
Step 6: The last step which is ridiculously complicated and should be, in all cases, be reduced to pushing a button labled "Engage."

It's genius, I tell you! Foolproof! Foolius! Genproof! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Anyyaw, here's that contest I was promising ya. As usual, 2 winners posts will be merged with comments intertwined.
Write up the most creative way to get to Mars. Can not exceed 8 sentences...unless it's really good. Those who exceed 8 sentences will be subject to take the course "Self Defense Against Fruits" for 6 months.

Good night, and good luck.