tonzer
tanto
tin-tun
tuk-tuk
trott
tyior
tsanx
tenk ten
tip-tup
tuppie
tuppies
toopies
toupler
tektro
tung-ty
tragnt
trenty
list by BM
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Ludite Literature
The Story of Little Cinnamon Danny:
"2! 3! Popsicle race!"
"snap! crap! right in yo face!"
What a silly game did the children play on a tuft of moss that afternoon. Their mothers had pushed them outside and locked the doors forcing the youths out into sunlight, a natural light, which burned their skin. "Errugh! this hurts!" one wailed at his first whiff of the sand filled air. There may have been 5 or 7 of them,but the conglomeration moved about in such a way as to make difficult in remunerating just how many mayonnaise-cheeked cherubs rolled about the streets that morning. It was hot, very hot, but soon they absconded into shade where the tiny glow of their flicker screens filled the air like fireflies. Popsicle Race was just released in stores the previous week, each had their own copy.
And so the children played throughout the length of the day, spitting out huge chunks of meat they tore from dried chicken strips, taking handfuls of malted cheese pizza balls and flinging them into their tiny chapped mouths. They were tired and bored, continuously in a torpid state of dissatisfaction. They dreamed of fresh batteries and new games, bigger screens and flashier graphics. Someday they would be old enough to find these things on their own, but for the time being they were young and unemployed, had to bide their time in the umbra of the trees where warmth and light dared not go.
A river ran across the edge of the forest. Inside a small, white boat sat a boy with ruddy cheeks and a mess of cinnamon hair. He was the eponymous Little Cinnamon Danny from the cereal commercials. The jingle ran through his head and caused ripples in the water, "Cinnamon shoes! Cinnamon shoes! Eat! Eat! Eat! till' you sing the blues! Cinnamon free! Cinnamon... wee! All together we're the cinnamon kids! Hay!" It drove him insane and he thought perhaps, if he took a boat out, something in nature would cleanse his mind, his 12-year-old mind.
The tiny vessel struck land near a small beach. Danny jumped from his seat and stretched his legs. An arrow shot out of the forest and caught him in the throat. He bled to death and then the kids with video games came and ate him. Lord of the flies. The End.
"2! 3! Popsicle race!"
"snap! crap! right in yo face!"
What a silly game did the children play on a tuft of moss that afternoon. Their mothers had pushed them outside and locked the doors forcing the youths out into sunlight, a natural light, which burned their skin. "Errugh! this hurts!" one wailed at his first whiff of the sand filled air. There may have been 5 or 7 of them,but the conglomeration moved about in such a way as to make difficult in remunerating just how many mayonnaise-cheeked cherubs rolled about the streets that morning. It was hot, very hot, but soon they absconded into shade where the tiny glow of their flicker screens filled the air like fireflies. Popsicle Race was just released in stores the previous week, each had their own copy.
And so the children played throughout the length of the day, spitting out huge chunks of meat they tore from dried chicken strips, taking handfuls of malted cheese pizza balls and flinging them into their tiny chapped mouths. They were tired and bored, continuously in a torpid state of dissatisfaction. They dreamed of fresh batteries and new games, bigger screens and flashier graphics. Someday they would be old enough to find these things on their own, but for the time being they were young and unemployed, had to bide their time in the umbra of the trees where warmth and light dared not go.
A river ran across the edge of the forest. Inside a small, white boat sat a boy with ruddy cheeks and a mess of cinnamon hair. He was the eponymous Little Cinnamon Danny from the cereal commercials. The jingle ran through his head and caused ripples in the water, "Cinnamon shoes! Cinnamon shoes! Eat! Eat! Eat! till' you sing the blues! Cinnamon free! Cinnamon... wee! All together we're the cinnamon kids! Hay!" It drove him insane and he thought perhaps, if he took a boat out, something in nature would cleanse his mind, his 12-year-old mind.
The tiny vessel struck land near a small beach. Danny jumped from his seat and stretched his legs. An arrow shot out of the forest and caught him in the throat. He bled to death and then the kids with video games came and ate him. Lord of the flies. The End.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
boof babies fallin' from the sky!
me: boof babies fallin' from the sky!![[tongue]](http://mail.google.com/mail/images/cleardot.gif)
Gina: penis lickers lovin guys!
me: you, me, and a pizza pie!
Gina: So stomp 'dem feet, now don't be shy!
me: pick a plum and say "goodbye!"
Gina: Mommy, what happens when we die?
me: some go to hell, others in the sky
oh man i can feel that in my tingy tang when that little tougne slips in and out
Sent at 11:53 PM on Tuesday
Gina: ewwww
you are barfatrocious man
me: you are a beatific lady
Gina: aahahahaha
remember when you called me a ruffian and i cried?
me: hahah when was that?
and barfatrocious isn't a word
Gina: vomitrocious was what I meant
me: haha nice
Gina: hahaha
me: well i gave you a nice compliment
Gina: hmm. I am selling my old bed for $125!
tony. I think you are a unique and beautiful snowflake
me: thank yee
someday rudy is going to turn into a snowflake and fly away in the wind, and eddy is going to turn into a tennis ball and roll away into a playground
Gina: oh yes yes yes
me: and oma is going to turn into a ham and jump in the oven! and dad is going to turn into a dragon and breath fire down on a castle!
and i'm going to turn into a old wallet and someone is going to find me! and you are going to turn into a piece of yellow cake and a baby is going to eat you and make a mess!
um...
i can't think of one for mom
Sent at 12:00 AM on Wednesday
Gina: mom is going to turn into a computer. and sit in a closet.
me: NO GINA THAT IS DEPRESSING
Gina: hahahaha. i kid.
can you hear me cackling?!?
me: (but funny)
haha yes
Gina: mom is going to turn into some free weights which will be used by Billy Blanks offspring's offspring.
hows that?
me: very nice
randy will turn into a soccer ball that gets kicked into a crowd of ravenous sports fans.
Gina: im glad i turn into cake.
me: yum!
i'm probably going to hanky jank to some cinemax tonight, so don't go out in the living room
Sent at 12:04 AM on Wednesday
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