YSaC, Vol. 1029: How Many People (Ready to Move the House?)
2011 July 7
***FREE HOUSE***WHOLE HOUSE****
YES I SAID IT, FREE HOUSE, THE WHOLE HOUSE!!!!!!
2 BEDROOMS ONE BATH
Wow, that sounds like a GREAT deal! What could possibly go wrong?
IF YOU MOVE IT, YOU CAN HAVE IT.
Um.
*bangs head on desk, wipes eyes*
Nope. It still says that.
CALL MRS. BRASWELL AT ###.###.####
That seems oddly formal. Dickensian, even.
HOUSE LOCATED IN #######
For now, anyway.
IMPORTANT INFORMATION: THE SMALL BEDROOM IN THE BACK HAS “ASBESTOS”
IT IS NOT AIRBORNE, SO THERE IS NO IMMEDIATE DANGER
At least, not as long as no one subjects it to any sudden violent motion. The mind boggles.
Thanks for the link, Megan!
I get the eerie feeling that putting asbestos in quotes is her way of foreshadowing another catch/surprise…
At least it’s not Ranger “asbestos”. You know how hard that is to clean up.
The “free” house is also located in what could “technically” be considered a “swamp”. Just take the path through the “spooky” part of the forest, it’s the one on the left that looks like it’s made of “gingerbread”.
I think that burned down, fell over, and sunk into the swamp. You could smell the burning sugar for miles.
I remember that! Kids came from miles around to get a contact sugar high from all the smoke.
And all of the melted burnt sugar was sold by dealers who called it “black chunk.” Kids who had been healthy before were eating themselves into diabetic comas. Sad.
and to think it all started with an arson.
Dickensian no, Dickheadian yes.
I’m imagining her sitting in her parlor with a cup of tea and a dismissive hand wave saying something like “Pish posh, there’s just a little bit of that ‘asbestos’ people are always talking about, but you know, all the best families have it. Would you kindly pass me another cucumber sandwich?”
“Besides, they wouldn’t have spelled it with BEST in the name if it wasn’t good.”
It’s part of the house’s “retro” charm.
You young whippersnappers have certainly gotten soft. In my day, we’d eat big bowls of asbestos for breakfast; it gave us energy for our hopscotch games on the Beltway. We turned out all right.
Luxury! When we were young, we had to mine our own asbestos and eat it raw! That would give us just enough energy to work 18 hours in the mine, then play one game of Tic-Tac-Toe in the dirt with a stick before we had to go to bed.
You young’ns is soft, that’s what you are. Back in my day, if we wanted to play with dirt we had to walk fifty miles, uphill both ways, and grind it up ourselves!
18 hour days? Pshaw!
When we were kids we’d work 27 hours a day! We’d have to leave the house 4 hours before we even got home from the previous night in order to get to work on time. And every day when we’d get home from work, our parents would cover us in malted brandy before sending us to the spanking machine for 2 hours!
Yea, but you could afford time turners so you could leave four hours before you even got home the night before.
Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o’clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah.
Coincidentally, I just watched that skit last night, too.
I’m glad somebody knew where it was I stole that from.
*Sniff* I truly am among my people here.
Play with dirt?! Heck, I remember when I invented dirt. I never even got to play with it!
I think we all did, Taco. I hope.
Well if it’s Dickensonian, she probably has really large
fun bagsminiature bouncy castlesTa Tas making her BraSwellFrom now on I will be referring to my breasts as miniature bouncy castles.
Excellent idea! I shall also!
Yes! I will call also Lara’s breasts minature bouncy castles! Even tho I don’t know her and this makes me highly uncomfortable!
Maybe you could just text Lara’s
breastsminiature bouncy castles instead of calling them.They also take emails, Paypal, and American Express
How about gift cards?
(kind of OT) Some of the apartments in my complex have asbestos in them so no one can hang anything on the wall for fear of letting some loose. Thankfully my apartment is not one. (/kind of OT)
Wow. I thought my old rental with termites and a leaky roof was roughing it.
I can move it! I saw it in a movie once. All I need are several hundred colourful balloons, a few tanks of helium, and several spools of string.
And a log holder that is attached to the foundation with 20 foot long bolts spanning the entire base of the house.
Load-bearing firedogs are standard in these older models, right?
Yes, I seem to recall something about every house coming with a stout dalmatian back in the day.
That’s firedog, not firefighter dog.
Hey! I learned something today. (Just the one thing. So far.) Andirons are also called firedogs. And, it seems, moon idols. I like moon idols better. I think I will start calling them that.
Yea, I had no idea about the moon horn. Heh heh heh
(tagless for your comfort) May I say I loved that movie? I particularly loved the talking dogs especially Ma-SQUIRREL- as I was saying especially -SQUIRREL-I mean Dug.(/tagless for your comfort)
I thought the dog’s name was Doug?
Edited to protect the llamadurp.
I loved Kevin—the female bird with the babies. Talk about a gender bender.
I looked it up and it appears to be spelled Dug. I totally knew that. I figured out where I got Max from, my brother’s dog is named Maximillian otherwise known as Max. He’s super hyperactive and totally does the SQUIRREL thing from the movie. I swear that dog is on speed. If you attached something to him that allowed him to speak he would talk so fast you wouldn’t be able to understand him. Sadly if he was human he would probably be a Sparky.
I’d like to think my dog is much smarter than Doug, or at least has a much better atten.. Groundhog!… -tion span
You would certainly be up-wardly-mobile. 8)
Ooh! Can I be the punk kid who tags along?
Punk? You mean chubby boy scout don’t you? Or are you a new breed of Sex Pistols Boy Scout? Anarchy and being the AntiChrist are a lovely juxtaposition to the Christian nature of the Boy Scouts.
*snerks at MF’s spelling of color*
Edit: actually I spelled it that way until my teachers in elementary school told me it was wrong. I had been reading too much Agatha Christie. Damn high reading level was teaching me to write like a British woman in the 1930’s.
I had that same problem. Colour, to-day, etc. It wasn’t incorrect so much as it was anachronistic.
Yea, anachronistic is how they put it when I was an undergrad. They also said they were archaic. At the point I was so sick of people picking at me that I just said that the words should make a come back and I had no problem starting that come back.
We just spell things the correct way. We also put milk in bags. Bags! Which I think means we Canadians have a more Freudian obsession with breasts than Americans do.
(I can’t stand bagged milk. I shouldn’t need extra accessories to get at my milk. Plus, the damn spout you have to cut tends to droop over the containers you put them in when they’re full, which spills it all over.)
That was so sexy MF
I spell gray as “grey” and I’ve been told I’m wrong. But in college I was told either was acceptable. I’m sticking with “grey”. I think it looks classier. The way you can classy things up by putting an “e” on the end of it: Ye Olde Shoppe, shite, etc.
So Mr. Braswell must be the local milk man. It’s all making sense!
I tend to interchange ‘grey’ and ‘gray’ as well as ‘blonde’ and ‘blond.’ The biggest thing my spellchecker hates me for seems to be my use of plough instead of plow. I like plough better… plow looks like it should be pronounced “p’low.” American English is silly.
I spell it “grey” too. Actually there are a few “Americanized” words I use, like theater (whereas Canadians and Brits spell it theatre). But we’re a bit odd in Canada. We’re supposed to be using metric but there are still some things we measure in imperial at least as often as metric. (Ask someone their height or to measure something with a ruler or tape measure and they’re more likely to give it to you in imperial, but volume, like filing up with gas, or distances from place to place, and you’ll probably get metric.)
Also, “shite” is a fun expletive if you pronounce it as intended (like “kite”) as it doesn’t quite sound vulgar enough here to be offensive.
(redneck Corey) Down here in Tennessee we measure height by stones and weight by bushels and pecks. I myself am 18 stones high and I weigh 50 bushels and 3 pecks. Anything lighter than a peck is measured in turds.
For example my cousin Eliza Jean’s baby boy was 6 pecks, 4 turds at birth. Why, just by emptying a baby’s diaper you can reduce their weight by 2 or sometimes 3 turds, easy. And then there’s the corn factor. But it’s lunchtime so I won’t take it any farther. *rustle rustle* Ah, Hubby Monkey packed vegetable beef soup for me for lunch.
Picked up a lot of unique usage in woodworking.
Plough is the action, plow is the tool. A plow plane (which is really a plow iron, but, that’s [corey[corey]]) is how you plough out what wood bit one is working upon, whether rabbet or dado.
To allow to be colonized by spore-propagating flora is to mold; a scribed profile is moulded. The scribe for that is a mould, whether drawn across wet plaster, or used to cut wood profiles. In either case, the resultant decoration is moulding.
Now, if more people followed this rule, it would make buying second-hand machinery much simpler, I’m going to be inclined to pay less for a molding moulding machine than for one free of mildew or fungi.
Now, I was also taught that “grey” was a name or a condition, and that “gray” was always a hue or color. Which allows a person to convey emotional color by using “grey” in the way “blue” is not always azure.
And from growing up with a family in the film distribution business, the building is a theater, “theatre” is something a troupe executes upon a stage. Which has always given me a bit of pause when seeing the British usage of “Operating Theatre” (but, perhaps, that is also influenced by the late Graham Chapman having a medical degree [lettered in Medicine]).
*mouth slightly open, drool dripping out of corner, eyes glazed*
*shakes self back to consciousness*
All righty then. Taking all of that into consideration, plus using cat math, what does “foulding” mean? In the western hemisphere and during daylight savings? Plus tax?
Very interesting Cap’n! My spellchecker still doesn’t like the word plough, regardless in what context I try to use it.
Woodworking technical terms, subtle grammar shading, and what may be the first ever nested Corey. You’re in fine form today, Cap!
I’ve heard of the Nested Corey but never actually seen one. I’m marking that one off my bucket list.
Wow, I just noticed this plus: The Nested Corey is nested within a sentence which is nested within parentheses. Superb! I feel like putting on a Crocodile Hunter ensemble and whispering as I say this, hunkered down in the bushes in the everglades.
Don’t worry Funky, the Cap’n often has that effect on the unprepared. He talk purdy.
A “foulding”? Where was it spotted? Is it a nesting pair?
No no no. It wasn’t spotted, it was striped.
I use “shite” a lot. It amuses me. I think I picked it up from “Trainspotting,” where it was not a substitute swear word, but rather an unintelligible-accent swear word.
Shite is quite a pleasing word when used in the Japanese setting as well.
I decided that, in an attempt to help FM, I’d pump Capn’s post through the translator. It reduced like a fine stock to the following:
There you go, clear as can be.
I’m a helper.
I think I’ve been reading too much bad fanfiction … that kinda makes sense.
I use blonde for a woman who has blond hair. Blond, as you’ve seen, is either the colour of the hair, or a man who has blond hair. I’m not sure where I picked it up from.
I use GREY with an E. I like the way it looks. I’m prone to both typos and verbal slip-ups, so it also keeps me from writing/saying things like “He wore a gay shirt” instead of “he wore a gray shirt”.
I’ve also used blonde, theater for a movie theater and theatre for experiencing a play/musical.
@Ziaheart: I think that’s actually how the word works in French.
@Silva: But what if the shirt is both gray and fabulous?
Zia, I do it that way because blond(e) is a French word and, in French, you’re supposed to add an E for females. I suspect the word is borrowed from French since a lot of people seem to add the E for females.
You do, in fact, spot camels then, AR?
I’m trying to move it asbestos I can.
(ducks and covers)
(geese and blankets)
(swans and duvets)
(herons and heroin)
(Wriggles and Ritalin)
[excellent Reckless Kelly earworm]
(beetles and bandaids)
(potatoes and Twisted Sister)
(Tubers and Hair-rock)
Twofers and Fraggle Rock.
moon idols and boucle sweaters
Gods and gloves.
(Dust Bunnies and Miniature bouncy castles)
If one’s “castles” have dust bunnies, does that suggest one ought engage in a bit more social life?
(Pickles and Icecream)
Om and nom.
Herp and derp.
It’s my under standing that, if you try to nom while om-ing, the sifu whacks you with a stick. Really Hard!
If you are om-ing while nom-ing, would you just leggo the eggo?
Quit zenning my mastication!
Woah, just dodged that corner.
Also: “Muuuuum, tell the brother to leggo my eggo!!!”*
*I don’t know what eggo is, though it sounds like some sort of revolting instant omelette thing, and I’m scared to google since finding the whole chicken inna can. Epic squick.
Jen, Eggos are just toaster waffles:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-Yq1I8gIA0
They never stay hot enough long enough to melt butter. 8)
A toaster waffle? Work won’t let me watch the youtubes, so I’m imagining some ingenious bag-and-mould* contraption which one inserts into / balances on the toaster? Or you have big toaster ovens in the States, don’t you? They look kind of like a microwave and a mini rotisserie thingie had a baby. It is for that?
*mould as per Cap’n’s [corey] above, not as in fungal infestations.
(penguins and polyester)
If you can bench press my house you can have it for free!
Attempts to bench press my house are subject to a $200 deposit that is non-refundable in the event that you fail to bench the house.
Interested lifters must supply their own bench for pressing.
and proof of medical insurance so when you call the ambulance they will be able to pay for it.
Or is it like in the Wizard of Oz, they just get crushed and their legs roll up?
[OZ OT] And Dorothy has yet to pay for her crimes. Sure she says they were “accidents,” and she’s just a farm girl from Kansas, but it seems awfully convenient that she was able to profit from both incidents. [/OZ OT]
You’ve read “Wicked”, haven’t you? It tells the Rest Of The Story.
I *always* thought it was creepy that you’d accidentally kill someone and then be all, oh well, apparently they were evil, I’d best steal their shoes. Srsly?!?
Dorothy didn’t tell the house where to land, was told to take the shoes, and how would she have known what the water would do? She was just a pawn.
It occurs to me that this may be a dollhouse, and Ms. Braswell is giving it away because her dolls died of cancer.
The image of dolls going bald with little IVs in their arms, dying of cancer, just depressed the britches off of me.
On the lighter side…
How many Sparkies does it take to move a house? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
All of them.
Depends on where ####### is.
New York: 100 contractors.
Chicago: 200 contractors.
Washington, DC: 10 congressmen and 50 contractors written in as 200.
Texas: Three guys, a pickup, sturdy chains, and a case of Bud.
Arizona: None, it needs to get its own border-crossing ass back to Mexico.
Technically Arizona would just ride in on a jeep with bright lights mounted on the top of it (otherwise known as the deer death mobile) and throw stones through the windows. That’s how they roll. (Hopes no one here is from there because she will be going there this month and does not want to be hunted down by Billy Joe Bob and shot from the top of a jeep in an unfortunate hunting “accident”).
*sigh* Nobody likes my depiction of AZ. Yet it is accurate or at least was when I lived there.
That could also describe most of the southeastern US, give or take a few guns and sister-wives.
Ain’t nothing wrong down here in the south:
1) You don’t have to wear shirts nor shoes in restaurants. You can bring your pet(s) in with you too.
2) The “ladies” have confederate flag tramp stamp tattoos.
3) Folks save a fortune on toothpaste ’cause they got no teeth.
4) You don’t have to drive far to buy your meth/assorted drugs. If you see a trailer, just pull over. Avoid the ones already on fire.
5) If your old lady leaves you, no problem, your other sister will be old enough to date very very soon.
What’s not to love?
(coreylicious) True MF. We lived in a house that backed on to state owned forest which meant that a) it smelled wonderful when it rained because of all the pines and vegetation b) occasionally a voyeuristic cow or deer would show up at the dining room window and scare the shit out of us when we walked into the room and c) we didn’t go into that forest without very brightly colored outfits, pepper spray, and letting someone know where we were going. You could get shot by Billy Joe Bob in his jeep, you could run into a mountain lion or bear, or you could get lost and disappear. Each of these things happened to someone from the community while we lived there. It was an adventure. I miss it sometimes and I am really looking forward to going back for a weekend for my best friend’s wedding. (coreylicious)
Duly noted. You also have boiled peanuts which I have tried to recreate very unsuccessfully. It should be simple right? Nope. The ratio of salt is an issue.
Mmmmm… Boiled peanuts. I had some over the holiday weekend.
Asheville: Just an inspirational song
(Edit: I can’t believe the spell checker doesn’t recognize Asheville as a word. Then again, it is a noun…)
Oh I don’t know, Barbie or Ken dying of cancer seems just fine to me. I have a friend who took the head off of one, put pins through it like the Hellraiser guy and hung it from the ceiling of her room.
(thoughtful corey which is an oxymoron)I made myself a little sick there. I can’t even deal with the idea of Ken and Barbie dying of cancer even though I was fine with my friend making a disembodied Hellraiser head Barbie. I guess cancer effects our lives so much that it’s really difficult to joke about.(/thoughtful corey oxymoron)
Lara: When I read your post re the pinhead Barbie, I did recoil a little. But don’t worry about wishing cancer on them. If the cancer doesn’t get Barbie and Ken the babies or the house dogs will eat them/flush them down the toilet/use them to hit eat other.
Some random thoughts: A) What would a telethon/fundraiser for Dolls With Cancer be like? Would Woody from Toy Story be the host? To squeeze your heart and make you give, would they show pics of emaciated Cabbage Patch kids with sunken eyes, hooked up to IVs? Or Tickle Me Elmos missing a leg? Would the new Justin Beiber doll be the musical guest?
B) With those pointy feet, I bet Barbie would fly a long way if you shot her into the air with a crossbow. While on fire.
(thoughtful monkey corey) If you don’t joke, all you can do is cry.
Based on childhood experiences playing “Joan of Arc”, I can say with absolute authority that Barbies are incredibly flammable (the hair especially) and the feet don’t stay pointy for long, so you might have difficulties aiming the crossbow.
I don’t want to imagine a real doll fundraiser. I have enough problems being in the same room as a porcelain doll without imagining it’s going to come to life and eat me in the middle of the night.
I played “St. John the Baptist” with my brothers GI Joes.
I was about so say ‘religious much?’ when I realized this was a reference to beheading them. Man, Sis is slow on the uptake today.
I had plastic toy soldiers intended to represent the Battle of Yorktown, and I’d play “George Washington’s Horse is Also a Meteorgodzillabomb.” with them. Fun times.
Agreed about the laughing rather than crying FM. I have lost several family members to cancer and I do as many cancer research fund raisers as I can. I think it is interesting that it was the beheaded Barbie that made you recoil. I have been friends with that girl for 13 years and I assure you she is simply weird, not psychotic. I love that girl to pieces and when we were in high school I figured if that was what she did to express herself, there were worse things she could be doing.I have done my own bizarre things. I currently have a sink in my passenger’s side seat because I want to make it into a birdbath. It’s a very old sink and will be beautiful. It was getting tossed out so I rescued it.
Whole house. Any bits that fall off remain the property of Mrs. Braswell.
Any bits that fall off of Mrs. Braswell remain the property of Mr. Braswell.
… I can’t decide if it’s pronounced BrasWell (she has a curvy figure) or BraSwell (a very curvy figure).
At least she’s not Mrs. Braless who recently married Mr. Topless making her Mrs. Braless-Topless.
Well, except in Iberian usage, where she’d be Sra Topless y Braless
I think Mr. Braswell gave up any rights to bits that fall off of Mrs. Braswell when he started hanging out with Miss Thongless.
With profuse apologies to the Talking Heads:
Whole house, you might get some “asbestos”
Free house – this ad could not be stranger
I’m an ordinary guy
Moving Sparky’s house
Hold tight wait till the move is over
Hold tight We’re in immediate danger
There has got to be a way
Moving Sparky’s house
Here’s your ticket pack your house: time to put it on a truck
The transportation is here
Close enough but not in Ish, Maybe you know where you are
Pudding not on fire
All wet hey you might need an unblubler
Asbestos houses relocating in broad daylight
Three hun-dred six-ty five de-grees
Moving Sparky’s house
Today’s box is an unpaid commercial for a certain car insurance company, and a tropical reptile habitat. Not bad!
Cheeky….. I like it! 😉
OT: Just now listening to Toxic Audio “Put The Lime In The Coconut”…. it’s going to be a good day. Sure Happy It’s Thursday, folks.
[bragging/earworming] Here in Enzed…
Yesterday was Thursday (Thursday).*
To-day it is Friday, Friday.**
We, we, we hate this earworm, we hate this earworm,***
But we sing it almost every week… **** [/bragging/earworming]
*This is true.
**Also true.
***Well, duh.
****Also, also true. Even my co-worker who is delightfully clueless re: pop culture despite being the same age as me thought it was so hilariously bad, she learnt the words and now sings it to me every week. *twitch*
Nobody would blame you if your co-worker unexpectedly met with an “accident.” Nobody.
I have found that the song becomes infinitly less annoying when the version you have in your head is sung by someone else. Try looking up some covers of it on YouTube, and the Stephen Colbert and Glee Cast versions. It almost sounds like a real song!
*dons her viking hat*
Lemon Curry?
Will I have to take the indian graveyard, too, Mrs. Braswell?
I believe Mrs. Braswell hasn’t made any reservations for that. So, the cement-ary stays.
😉
You should be bargaining to get that Indian graveyard!! Don’t you know how much money you could make bringing in different ghost hunting people from cable shows?
This morning, I had a movement… oh, move it, nevermind.
As Harry Shearer says on Le Show, “It’s a movement and we all need to have one…every day.”
I would not move a house unless it had at least 4 bedrooms, a jacuzzi, a room full of plastic balls to play in (heh heh heh) 2 bathrooms, a room for my dead explorer collection, a direct path to Narnia through an Aunt Closet, and an indoor pool full nacho cheese.
Otherwise, no dice.
A room full of plastic balls:
http://xkcd.com/150/
PS: “Balls”. Heh heh.
I have always loved that cartoon. I want to both fill my apartment with those balls and find a man who loves me because I did. Still no Mr. Llamaderp. If you see him, tell him to get his ass in gear.
I don’t see a problem with this, as long as it doesn’t end up in the middle of our street. That would be madness.
*insta-earworm*
[random pop culture corey]
I recall that video being one of the first ones I ever saw on MTV (back when it actually played music). It took MTV a while to get out in the boonies where we were, so that was what was on when it did.
[/aging Gen-X-er corey]
For your amusement, I present the following.
Mrs. BraSwell!
YSaC hates me today… just about anything I’m trying to post is getting pinged as spam.
But the snarkers love ya.
That we do!
[architectural corey]
As a person firmly versed in how the structures we build have lifespans far beyond mere human mayfly existence, and fully vexed by the vain insistence in treating all things as consumer-expendable, even things with persistent value, this tears at me.
At one level, it is always good to take something like a house and move it entire, rather than covert it into less-good landfill rubble. At another level, some structures do not need saving–there is no reason to preserve bad design; or structures risking life, health, or safety of present or future occupants/users.
Which brings us to the fleecing of the WR Grace companies by barratrers in legion. Yes, asbestos was used in a number of building products. Yes, mining asbestos has been hazardous to the miners since the time of Pliny. But, Chrysolite is one of the most benign minerals ever used in building construction. That is, until you start tearing it out and fracturing the long, long fibers into teeny-tiny bits, increasing the risk of pneumoconiosis to all users of that structure. Amphibole asbestos is a different issue, but, in life-cycle risk in construction, still low.
Despite all that, by regulation we have to treat a naturally-occurring material as if it were a deadly-contact toxin. Much as we now have to treat infinitesimal trace amounts of lead.
Which brings me to the primary problem Ms Braswell is likely to face. The new rules for “workplace” exposure to lead are far more strict than needing to cope with some few loose asbestos-impregnated ceiling tiles (or some chrysolite wall shingles). Given that the exposure levels have been reduced by regulatory fiat, we are getting to where lead remediation is required to be to amounts less than background. <le sigh>
But, what I fear most is that Ms Braswell may have Sparkied on us, and this house to be moved is on a concrete slab, not one with a wooden floor. This makes the house mover’s job quite a lot different (Read, mostly impossible).
There’s more than some small grumbling in “the biz” that the art and skill of house moving may be lost, as the number of houses able to be moved (let alone worthy of movement) in the last twenty five years is near nil.
I’ll stop ranting now–if for needing to refill my glass if naught else.
[/corey]
Capn, as always, you have the most elegant way of phrasing things that I can’t understand.*
*I actually understood most of this… in the third re-read.
I herein provide a translation of Capn’s corey for those of similar cerebral limitations as myself:
Asbestos and lead not as bad as widely assumed.
Throwing things away that are still good is bad.
Capn sad that house moving doesn’t happen much anymore.
There, I think I got it.
Also;
It’s harder to move a house with a concrete slab than one with wooden floors
And …
Cap’n could use a nice cold beer.
Thank you guys for the summation!
Beer good (bett’r’n donuts).
Sacks of unused currency would be even betterer; if people are inclined to deliver lost items.
(deleted 672 word diatribe on tract-building)
A house should not be a bagette, a thin, brittle, pretty crust over nothing very much at all.
Instead, a house ought to be like a cake–layer upon layer, with generous servings of tasty icing between. Something that can keep being discovered, time after time, again and again, by dozens of care-taking resident/owners.
So much for that.
Mum: “Jen, why are you licking the walls? Again?”
Jen: “Um, Cap’n said the house was like a cake? I think?”
Mum is unimpressed.
Jen: “But caaaaaaaaake!!!!”
*stares at Cap’n’s post*
*blinks*
*collapses in heap on floor and covers up with blankie, sobbing*
*pats FM on the head soothingly*
I actually found this to be one of the Cap’n’s more easy-to-read posts. But then again, I think I usually understand the Cap’n better than most. Not sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, and for whom.
As part of a previous discussion on the lucrative business of swear substitution I am unveiling a new product being provided by ScamCo Substitute Swearwords Inc.:
Frunking
Please provide 1.5 boxes of vintage cereal per use of our patent pending swear replacement technology.
Thank You,
Sir Asshat Sparklington IV Esq.
Chairman of ScamCo’s Technological Swearing Obfuscation Division
If you don’t cease and desist in stealing my name for your cheap thrills I will be forced to set the chihoohas on you!
[OT]
So, I have a Scene credit card which gives me Scene points which are redeemable for movies at theaters and some other stuff. I also signed up for their survey service thingy which occasionally sends me surveys to fill out in exchange for Scene points. As I’m doing one this evening, this question comes up:
*facepalm*
[/OT]
OT This sums up my rotten day pretty well. I just mistook my slinky for a flashlight.
Would it help if I punched you instead? You know… so you can get a good nights sleep. I’m willing to be that unselfish just for you. 8)
And better a slinky than a creepy crawly creature.
I can’t believe I am saying this, but punch me. It may be a sleepless night otherwise.
No, no, LL. I really appreciate your heart-felt wish to be helpful, but it’s my only job. Here. 8)
Punchity Punch Punch!
G’Night, Raleigh, North Carolina!
*wavy lines wiggle across the monitor*
*door to Way-Back Machine opens*
Hmmm. We certainly got more posts on a daily basis back in 2011. Must have been more people out of work then. Witty, snarky people who were named neither Corey nor Matt. I may just hang out here today.
We need to
kidnapentice some more of the lurkers out of hiding.Good for you Windy, if I let myself hang out, I’d get in trouble.
Taco, sorry I am late letting you out of the box. Hope you didn’t have any plans like eating breakfast or playing with the kid. 8) Punchity Punch Punch!
Good Day, House!