Brief Humor & Check-Ins, Short Stories & Poetry

Author: A Time of Kerfluffles (Bad Poetry / Humorous Happenings) ๐ŸŒ 

Based on true events….

A Time of Kerfluffles

Two weeks ago, my eyeglasses broke. The pin popped out and the tech’s head just shook. “Too bad, you’re out of luck; you’re a blind, little bat now you idle schmuck. And don’t stumble on the welcome mat on the way out, you putz!”

My finger, shortly thereafter, broke in two; would I ever lie to you? Oh well, it’s just a strain, but I do have people sign my little splint just the same.

And then last Tuesday, I recall still yet with dread: I stepped on a rusty nail head! No scratches, no impailments, no ER trips or sky rocket payments. Tetanus shot is up to date and my guardian angel is going on vacation, post haste.

And then yesterday, or was it two days ago hence? I broke my car’s side mirror, to my garage’s horror and my proceeding recompense. Seven years of bad luck is mine from parking a smidgen too close inside.

No worries and have no fear. Because, even if this superstition is true, it’ll be over so very soon. At my current rate, I’ll be free of this bad luck around, well…let’s calculate and see. Why the year six thousand, four hundred and ninety three!

Awards

Author: Liebster Award ๐Ÿ† (Take a Crack at My Questions)

Thanks, Chelsea, for the nomination! Mr. Swinebottom has been busy numbering, displaying and spit shining these pixel trophies all summer. It may go to his head any day now…

Everyoneย  check Chelsea’s mainย blog for her terribly, Terrible Poetry Contests and other enjoyable reads. Join the mayhem and you could become an imp by Christmas. ๐ŸŽ„

She also has a blog on the perils joys of parenthood and mothering. Bring a helmet and watch the low overhang. Cookies may be a good offering.

Continue reading “Author: Liebster Award ๐Ÿ† (Take a Crack at My Questions)”

Arcian Recipes

Author: Pretty Good Spaghetti & Leftovers (Vegan | Humor)๐Ÿ

On Sundays, I’ve been making big meals lately. Big meals equals leftovers which means lunch is done for tomorrow with extra servings to spare. Save money, eat great, write more. Ding, a ling ring…We have a winner. ๐Ÿ†

Spaghetti for a crowd, here we go. A garlic bread recipe is thrown in at the end as a bonus. You are welcome. ๐Ÿฅ–

Make your own spaghetti sauces, people. Garlic bread, too. It’s not expensive and it’s simple. Stop buying premade sauces that are pumped with salt and frozen garlic bread with ingredients you don’t have a hope of trying to pronounce. Your grandchildren will thank you.

Let’s begin.

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Awards

Author: Ze Lovely Liebster Award (Humor | I Nominate You) ๐Ÿ†

Thanks,ย Steve and Ms. Muffin-pie. You guys bring light into the world. Never stop shining. Or sharpening those claws…๐Ÿ˜น

Crack on.

Continue reading “Author: Ze Lovely Liebster Award (Humor | I Nominate You) ๐Ÿ†”

Brief Humor & Check-Ins, Ponderings

Author: Eating the Sucker (Gyno Visit |Humor) ๐Ÿญ

Every year when I visit my lovely gynocologist to do my health (fit as a fiddle), wealth (take my money) and stealth (ninja power level 9000) check, I usually do the same things:

  1. I forget how to get to the office. I remember on the way there.
  2. Once arriving, I try going through the same locked door. I walk down three feet and find an unlocked door. The mysteries of building security.
  3. I see at least one child being mischievous. It was two this time. They were both wearing surgical masks and a newspaper was suspiciously crumpled near them on a chair.
  4. The waiting room has at least one baby, usually more, and a few nervous and bored fathers. I suspect the nervous fathers are first time dads and the bored ones have been through the process a time or two.
  5. I ask the health tech if I can use the restroom like I’m back at school and am expecting to be told no and asked to finish my homework first.
  6. I eat a sucker at the checkout desk after everything is done. Why? Because I forget how old I am. And the check out secretary just smiles and hands me my paperwork. Peace, lady. โ˜ฎ๏ธ
  7. I miss my turn on the way out to get back to the main road. Every. Single. Time.

Continue reading “Author: Eating the Sucker (Gyno Visit |Humor) ๐Ÿญ”

Brief Humor & Check-Ins

Author: Oh, The Throes of Summer

Summer has camped out at the Peregrine household, making herself quite at ease, all 90+ degrees of herself. I slip the Labrador ice cubes and frozen bananas to cool her down as the Saint and I break out the fans and water jugs. Summer flits her radiant, sun bleached hair and twitters about, remarking about the rising level of humidity and how much she enjoys melting things…

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Brief Humor & Check-Ins

Author: “Away with You, Mortal” (YT Humor Share)

I’ve been dealing with a particular breed of salespeople lately–Class D: Door to Door Solicitors. In America, they waltz right up to your door, knock loudly and ring doorbells. Their actions promptly wake up sleeping babies as they ignore posted warning signs and they release the hounds of doom to begin barking. They sell everything from politics, religion (I say this as a Christian) to tree cutting services. I understand people need to work, and we treat them with decency and polite firmness, but I don’t find this practice a good business model or even very polite.

The Saint and I recently bought two new No Solicitors signs from Etsy, as our old sign broke. We are putting these up in hopes to deter stealthy agents of capitalism. I’m also considering a moat with alligators and some zombie signs.

One day, though, I may just enact the following plan, as enacted in the beautiful video below. Who’s with me?

 

Contest Entries

Terrible Poetry Contest Winner: Oi’, Summah!

Lightning has hit twice. I have won the Terrible Poetry Contest for the second glorious time. And everyone rejoiced and roasted Oxford commas over cozy bonfires.

Want to join in on the terribleness? The new contest opens tomorrow. Check out Chelsea’s page for details.

Crack on.

Continue reading “Terrible Poetry Contest Winner: Oi’, Summah!”

Brief Humor & Check-Ins

Author: If Tomorrow Wasn’t Friday (A Terrible Reading)

If tomorrow wasn’t Friday, I’d become guilty of voluntary manslaughter.

If tomorrow wasn’t Friday, I’d be streaking up and down the hallways of my work building, laughing like a maniac, passing out killer bees like party favors and tripping people with phonetically placed vowels.

If tomorrow wasn’t Friday, I’d be sharpening wooden pencils and dipping them in Poison Arrow Frog toxins. People would Croak. ๐Ÿธ

If tomorrow wasn’t that glorious day, I’d make a life-size paper airplane and fly away. So long, suckers!

If tomorrow wasn’t the Fri-to-the-day, I’d find myself beating my head against the computer screen. More work would get done that way than waiting for Susie and Pete to give me excuse #11-80-and-3.

If tomorrow wasn’t the weekend, well, I just wouldn’t be pleased.