The made-up word story
Thanks to everyone who contributed to the Cratousum story. It turned out a bit dark as I have been listening to Margot non stop. See if you can find the words that are made up and the ones that are just horrifically misspelled.
Love without Definition
It was raining. Again. If this were a movie, you’d see the shadows of the rain on the windshield crossing my face. I turned the wipers on and the only good they did was to rhythmatically kick "The Girl from Ipanema" song that was dittyitising around in my skull. Now all I heard was the first stanza of “The Stroke” repeating over and over. The day was not going to get better. Thanks Billy Squire.
I drove off into the morning darkness. Though the sun was dragging itself up, it was getting darker. I reached up to the dash and put my hand on my kickidoe mounted next to the broken compass. It was a “Buddy Jesus” I bought after a murksom night of cable television. Glame, I know, but he always seemed to give me a sense of…
Shit
I slid sideways in the roadway as the breaks decided to work and then didn’t and then did. The car jumped and kicked itself straight.
Shit.
The 45MPH traffic had slowed to a crawl as some plippethead snailobily decided that 13 MPH would keep them from wrecking in the downpour. In trying to maintain safety, the goody two shoes almost caused a neekabaum. With the sudden stop and instant panic, I was about to have a neekabaum in my pants. I pulled into the berm and drove past 14 cars who only had time to honk once I passed them. I pulled into Jack and Jacks and smontelorped across the parking lot. The woman coming out of the front door decoded my walk and held the door for me.
In the bathroom, I barely got my pants down and speelisher on the toilet seat before I let loose with a rage that only a victim of Crone’s disease that had been pharmaphlarneffed 1500ml of prune juice extract would be able to withstand. My chest burned white hot. Sweat mixed with the rain on my face and I realized that I had left my inhaler at Jesse’s house in her kitcheneteria next to the half cup of coffee. The walls of the stall started closing in and I felt zoofloged and helpless.
I was fading. And I felt Jesse’s presence from the night before, her hair swuuuping across my legs. She was humming to herself.
The manager who called 911 later told me that he puked from the smell when he came into the bathroom and found me half in the stall and half on the floor. He told the paramedics it must have been mine. I can live with that.
Love without Definition
It was raining. Again. If this were a movie, you’d see the shadows of the rain on the windshield crossing my face. I turned the wipers on and the only good they did was to rhythmatically kick "The Girl from Ipanema" song that was dittyitising around in my skull. Now all I heard was the first stanza of “The Stroke” repeating over and over. The day was not going to get better. Thanks Billy Squire.
I drove off into the morning darkness. Though the sun was dragging itself up, it was getting darker. I reached up to the dash and put my hand on my kickidoe mounted next to the broken compass. It was a “Buddy Jesus” I bought after a murksom night of cable television. Glame, I know, but he always seemed to give me a sense of…
Shit
I slid sideways in the roadway as the breaks decided to work and then didn’t and then did. The car jumped and kicked itself straight.
Shit.
The 45MPH traffic had slowed to a crawl as some plippethead snailobily decided that 13 MPH would keep them from wrecking in the downpour. In trying to maintain safety, the goody two shoes almost caused a neekabaum. With the sudden stop and instant panic, I was about to have a neekabaum in my pants. I pulled into the berm and drove past 14 cars who only had time to honk once I passed them. I pulled into Jack and Jacks and smontelorped across the parking lot. The woman coming out of the front door decoded my walk and held the door for me.
In the bathroom, I barely got my pants down and speelisher on the toilet seat before I let loose with a rage that only a victim of Crone’s disease that had been pharmaphlarneffed 1500ml of prune juice extract would be able to withstand. My chest burned white hot. Sweat mixed with the rain on my face and I realized that I had left my inhaler at Jesse’s house in her kitcheneteria next to the half cup of coffee. The walls of the stall started closing in and I felt zoofloged and helpless.
I was fading. And I felt Jesse’s presence from the night before, her hair swuuuping across my legs. She was humming to herself.
The manager who called 911 later told me that he puked from the smell when he came into the bathroom and found me half in the stall and half on the floor. He told the paramedics it must have been mine. I can live with that.
WELCOME TO NEW IRAQ
I had a wonderful idea just the other day. It solves many problems and creates wealth, which we all know and love.
I’m sure most of us agree that we have fucked up Iraq and that there is really nothing we can do to fix it without continued blood shed on both sides. We can’t pull out because the minorities will be slaughtered and while that would have been easier to stand years ago, now with the slaughter happening LIVE on CNN, it makes it harder to ignore.
My plan is simple and genius.
Let’s carve out a chunk of the United States and give it to anyone in Iraq who wants to leave. Here is my 8 step plan.
1. ADVERTISE
Posters (as a bonus, bulletproof posters) will line the streets, telling Iraqis of a better life over the ocean. All they need to do is pack two bags each and prepare to leave on July 4th.
2. PREPARE THE LAND
Choose about 400 sq miles of hurricane devastated land in the United States and kick off the squatters. Set up temporary housing that was never used after Katrina. Build a wall around it. Erect the WELCOME TO NEW IRAQ sign. Dust off hands.
3. LOAD THE CARGO CONTAINERS
Iraqis will be loaded on to cargo containers and shipped to the states. As a bonus, video screens will simulate a porthole view of a ship passing by the statue of liberty. The video will repeat every 10 minutes.
4. PULL OUT OF IRAQ
Anyone left behind can deal with it.
5. LAND HO!
Dump off the Iraqis and hand them shovels and brooms to begin the clean-up. They will fill the now empty cargo containers with trash and the bodies of the people that didn’t handle the trip so well.
6. CLEAN AND BUILD
The Iraqis will be provided with food and shelter. They will be provided building materials and help to construct cities. Coincidentally, the cities will be near gas refineries and bio diesel plants that are also under construction.
7. PROFIT!
The Iraqis will build cities where they will live and work in harmony. Cheap labor will provide Americans with goods. As the older and bitter Iraqis die off from working in the refineries, the younger folks will be Americanized through the free MTV2 pumped into their homes. In twenty years, we can tear down the wall.
8. REPEAT?
Oh shit? During this time we went to war with Iran? Crap… OK, play old tapes of the Iraq/Iran war and use the young Iraqis as cannon fodder. Once New Iraq is empty, fill it with Iranians and change the last letter on the WELCOME TO NEW IRAQ sign.
I’m sure most of us agree that we have fucked up Iraq and that there is really nothing we can do to fix it without continued blood shed on both sides. We can’t pull out because the minorities will be slaughtered and while that would have been easier to stand years ago, now with the slaughter happening LIVE on CNN, it makes it harder to ignore.
My plan is simple and genius.
Let’s carve out a chunk of the United States and give it to anyone in Iraq who wants to leave. Here is my 8 step plan.
1. ADVERTISE
Posters (as a bonus, bulletproof posters) will line the streets, telling Iraqis of a better life over the ocean. All they need to do is pack two bags each and prepare to leave on July 4th.
2. PREPARE THE LAND
Choose about 400 sq miles of hurricane devastated land in the United States and kick off the squatters. Set up temporary housing that was never used after Katrina. Build a wall around it. Erect the WELCOME TO NEW IRAQ sign. Dust off hands.
3. LOAD THE CARGO CONTAINERS
Iraqis will be loaded on to cargo containers and shipped to the states. As a bonus, video screens will simulate a porthole view of a ship passing by the statue of liberty. The video will repeat every 10 minutes.
4. PULL OUT OF IRAQ
Anyone left behind can deal with it.
5. LAND HO!
Dump off the Iraqis and hand them shovels and brooms to begin the clean-up. They will fill the now empty cargo containers with trash and the bodies of the people that didn’t handle the trip so well.
6. CLEAN AND BUILD
The Iraqis will be provided with food and shelter. They will be provided building materials and help to construct cities. Coincidentally, the cities will be near gas refineries and bio diesel plants that are also under construction.
7. PROFIT!
The Iraqis will build cities where they will live and work in harmony. Cheap labor will provide Americans with goods. As the older and bitter Iraqis die off from working in the refineries, the younger folks will be Americanized through the free MTV2 pumped into their homes. In twenty years, we can tear down the wall.
8. REPEAT?
Oh shit? During this time we went to war with Iran? Crap… OK, play old tapes of the Iraq/Iran war and use the young Iraqis as cannon fodder. Once New Iraq is empty, fill it with Iranians and change the last letter on the WELCOME TO NEW IRAQ sign.
Darwin Robinette
Darwin Lee Robinette, 82, a longtime Rushville resident, died at 6:30 a.m. Thursday, May 10, 2007, at his home.
Darwin was the son of the late Orville and Gladys (Roebuck) Robinette.
He served in the U.S. Army during World War II and graduated from The Ohio State University with a bachelor's degree in aeronautical engineering.
He was recruited by North American Aviation as a flight test engineer working on the Vigilante, OV10A Bronco and the B1 Bomber.
Darwin was very involved with the Boy Scouts of America and was Troop Master of Troop 278 for 10 years.
He and his wife, Thelma, were the owners and operators of the Baskin Robbins Ice Cream Store in Lancaster for 30 years.
Surviving are his wife of 59 years, Thelma (Bliss) Robinette; three sons, Michael, Paul and Jon (Lauren) Robinette; three daughters, Peggy (James) DeJarnatt, Nan (Ralph) VanGundy and Jill (Kelly) Adams; 14 grandchildren; four great-grandchildren; a brother, Nolan Robinette; and a sister, Margaret (Richard) Hamilton.
In addition to his parents, he was preceded in death by his brother, Howard Dale Robinette.
A celebration of life will be from 3 to 5 p.m. Saturday at the residence of Jill and Kelly Adams, 758 Schadel Drive N.W., Lancaster, OH 43130.
In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to the Alzheimer's Research in honor of Darwin Robinette, The Ohio State Medical Center of Develop-Ment, Fund 305835, P.O. Box 183112, Columbus, OH 43218-3112.
The family would like to express their heartfelt thanks to the AlternaCare and FairHoPe Hospice and Palliative Care, Inc. of Lancaster.
Bope-Thomas Funeral Home in Somerset is in charge of arrangements.
{Author's note: I worked at Baskin Robbins in Lancaster, OH in 1988 through 1991. Darwin (“D”) and his wife Thelma (“T”) were the owners of the store. Because I was 17 and didn’t know any better, I just thought he was just an old guy.
Looking back, I remember a very kind man with a terrific sense of humor. He was very patient with his hormone infused staff. He’d raise his voice when we did stupid stuff, but most the time he’d just roll his eyes.
One of Darwin's well known sayings was, "You've got time to lean, you've time to clean.}
Darwin was the son of the late Orville and Gladys (Roebuck) Robinette.
He served in the U.S. Army during World War II and graduated from The Ohio State University with a bachelor's degree in aeronautical engineering.
He was recruited by North American Aviation as a flight test engineer working on the Vigilante, OV10A Bronco and the B1 Bomber.
Darwin was very involved with the Boy Scouts of America and was Troop Master of Troop 278 for 10 years.
He and his wife, Thelma, were the owners and operators of the Baskin Robbins Ice Cream Store in Lancaster for 30 years.
Surviving are his wife of 59 years, Thelma (Bliss) Robinette; three sons, Michael, Paul and Jon (Lauren) Robinette; three daughters, Peggy (James) DeJarnatt, Nan (Ralph) VanGundy and Jill (Kelly) Adams; 14 grandchildren; four great-grandchildren; a brother, Nolan Robinette; and a sister, Margaret (Richard) Hamilton.
In addition to his parents, he was preceded in death by his brother, Howard Dale Robinette.
A celebration of life will be from 3 to 5 p.m. Saturday at the residence of Jill and Kelly Adams, 758 Schadel Drive N.W., Lancaster, OH 43130.
In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to the Alzheimer's Research in honor of Darwin Robinette, The Ohio State Medical Center of Develop-Ment, Fund 305835, P.O. Box 183112, Columbus, OH 43218-3112.
The family would like to express their heartfelt thanks to the AlternaCare and FairHoPe Hospice and Palliative Care, Inc. of Lancaster.
Bope-Thomas Funeral Home in Somerset is in charge of arrangements.
{Author's note: I worked at Baskin Robbins in Lancaster, OH in 1988 through 1991. Darwin (“D”) and his wife Thelma (“T”) were the owners of the store. Because I was 17 and didn’t know any better, I just thought he was just an old guy.
Looking back, I remember a very kind man with a terrific sense of humor. He was very patient with his hormone infused staff. He’d raise his voice when we did stupid stuff, but most the time he’d just roll his eyes.
One of Darwin's well known sayings was, "You've got time to lean, you've time to clean.}
Honesty is the best policy except that I’m lying
I went to MegaRed and Mike’s Cinco de Mayo party on Saturday. They are awesome hosts and always throw a good party. You can see the photos HERE.
The next day, my wife and I were flipping through the photos. I was pointing out the different people and that we were playing flip cup in the basement and which girls I thought were cute. She was somewhat interested. Then we came to this photo:
And I said, “…and this was the girl I was flirting with.”
Oh boy.
See, my definition of flirting is that I was talking directly to this one (female) person and was making an effort to get her to laugh. I wasn’t attempting to get her in the sack or anything of the sort. We were just standing next to each other during the flip cup game. I was just looking for attention from a very attractive, fun girl. Harmless. Right?
Oh boy.
Miss Sally gave me a look that caused my testes to slide back up into lower intestine and quietly build a nest. I think she said, “Oh? That’s just great.” And she walked off. Her feet left scorch marks in the Pergo.
So now I have two choices:
1. Quit flirting
2. Quit flirting
I think I’m going to have to go with number two.
Let this be a lesson to all you men!!
{Please note: #2 is actually “Quit telling Sally all the truth.” She stops reading after about the 200th word. It’s not like I’m lying. It’s just to protect her from the awful truth that flirting is the only thing I do well.}
{Please note again: I told this story to my co-workers and pleaded my case that I was just flirting harmlessly. Beth walked over and slapped me in the head. I guess the sentiment is Universal.}
The next day, my wife and I were flipping through the photos. I was pointing out the different people and that we were playing flip cup in the basement and which girls I thought were cute. She was somewhat interested. Then we came to this photo:
And I said, “…and this was the girl I was flirting with.”
Oh boy.
See, my definition of flirting is that I was talking directly to this one (female) person and was making an effort to get her to laugh. I wasn’t attempting to get her in the sack or anything of the sort. We were just standing next to each other during the flip cup game. I was just looking for attention from a very attractive, fun girl. Harmless. Right?
Oh boy.
Miss Sally gave me a look that caused my testes to slide back up into lower intestine and quietly build a nest. I think she said, “Oh? That’s just great.” And she walked off. Her feet left scorch marks in the Pergo.
So now I have two choices:
1. Quit flirting
2. Quit flirting
I think I’m going to have to go with number two.
Let this be a lesson to all you men!!
{Please note: #2 is actually “Quit telling Sally all the truth.” She stops reading after about the 200th word. It’s not like I’m lying. It’s just to protect her from the awful truth that flirting is the only thing I do well.}
{Please note again: I told this story to my co-workers and pleaded my case that I was just flirting harmlessly. Beth walked over and slapped me in the head. I guess the sentiment is Universal.}
Shrimp Attack! on MySpace
You can now check out full songs of Shrimp Attack! on MySpace.
Click here to go the the Shrimp Attack! MySpace page.
If you are into such things, you can become a friend and spread the word!
cratousum
I have been trying to involve my readers in my life and besides being stalked, I have failed. Or succeeded depending on how you look at it.
Here’s my newest attempt to attain some dialogue between you and me.
I want you to make up a word of between six and twelve letters. My definition of “make up” means that Google cannot come up with for a match for it. It should look and sound like it could be a real word. For example.
Put your word in the comments below. I would like you to then provide a definition for the cratousum. Or leave it blank and I will make one up.
In a week or two, I’ll write up a story with those words.
One of those words is cratousum, which now means “a word that didn’t exist until right now.”
Well? What are you waiting for? Get your speelishers in gear!
Here’s my newest attempt to attain some dialogue between you and me.
I want you to make up a word of between six and twelve letters. My definition of “make up” means that Google cannot come up with for a match for it. It should look and sound like it could be a real word. For example.
Put your word in the comments below. I would like you to then provide a definition for the cratousum. Or leave it blank and I will make one up.
In a week or two, I’ll write up a story with those words.
One of those words is cratousum, which now means “a word that didn’t exist until right now.”
Well? What are you waiting for? Get your speelishers in gear!
The White House plan on how the US can break even in Iraq
(Click to enlarge or move face really close to screen and squint.)
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