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I'd like to think it was a typo ...
Posts by model murdering
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The patty cake crew.
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When the pesterkopfs call, we go into badorkmore mode. The Mrs and I have a series of fun responses.
How do we know you? We dont?! Then why are you calling?
I often tell them: Sorry, we dont have a phone.
I fond of impersonating the Janitor.
May I speak to Mrs. Hall? Yes it is ! (responding in a baritone voice)
Occasionally I'll use a make believe language peppered with just enough English to maintain the minimum dialogue.
Play da bornbein? Over by the mega blade, my lichtenstein by the woods is bespangled with champfer.
How do we know you? We dont?! Then why are you calling?
I often tell them: Sorry, we dont have a phone.
I fond of impersonating the Janitor.
May I speak to Mrs. Hall? Yes it is ! (responding in a baritone voice)
Occasionally I'll use a make believe language peppered with just enough English to maintain the minimum dialogue.
Play da bornbein? Over by the mega blade, my lichtenstein by the woods is bespangled with champfer.
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Testing the limits of Darwinism
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L: ... and plumped for a trolley that 'crabbed' sideways to the left that I had to push.
HAR! Thank you. Yanked my chucklebone. "Craptacular" shopping carts spanning the globe. A universal constant we can all identify with. Although it ires the missus, I take a measure of delight in abandoning them in the middle of the store, with the hood up, and the E flashers on.
You've got the caster that ....
1. ... wobbles wildly and clatters vociferously: "wagga wagga!" All the way down the aisle.
2. ... has some pallet wrap or bailing twine spooled up on the axle; which skids it along intermittently, defying adherence to any particular vector relative to the aisle your on, except for eminent crash.
3. ... the utterly toasted wheel bearing, that happens to be just fine upon entering the market, but dives a little more for the ditch after every aisle; as the gross vehicle weight increases. Eventually the whole enchilada locks up midway down the freezer aisle.
HAR! Thank you. Yanked my chucklebone. "Craptacular" shopping carts spanning the globe. A universal constant we can all identify with. Although it ires the missus, I take a measure of delight in abandoning them in the middle of the store, with the hood up, and the E flashers on.
You've got the caster that ....
1. ... wobbles wildly and clatters vociferously: "wagga wagga!" All the way down the aisle.
2. ... has some pallet wrap or bailing twine spooled up on the axle; which skids it along intermittently, defying adherence to any particular vector relative to the aisle your on, except for eminent crash.
3. ... the utterly toasted wheel bearing, that happens to be just fine upon entering the market, but dives a little more for the ditch after every aisle; as the gross vehicle weight increases. Eventually the whole enchilada locks up midway down the freezer aisle.
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Vendors taking the time to tell customers not to waste their time, is a business model designed and run by corn-chutes.
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Have a politician swing by and fill it with promises. Then plant squash.
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Turns out guarding pole beans would be a legitimate occupation.
After setting our starts out of the cold-frame just last week, some critter came along and bombarded one of my mounds night before last.
The horror!
After setting our starts out of the cold-frame just last week, some critter came along and bombarded one of my mounds night before last.
The horror!
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Classic! Thank you for sharing.
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Laurence, I'm left with the impression that our progeny was/is conditioned by aasshats to erase history, rather than to go out and actually make their own. I just hum those forbidden songs quietly in the garden while Im stabbing them in my mind. Perhaps my last refuge from the hive mind.
I thank my lucky stars that my folks didnt live to see the implementation of Terminal Idiocrasy.
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No worries Laurence!
My grump is often not suitable for public consumption. Sanitizing it through the decorum filter kinda takes the fun out of it for me.
A sloppy wet spell in the Pac NW currently pummeling my efforts into the mud. The long overdue removal of a decorative Arborvite hedge along the lower patio. No doubt punishment for one of the most beautiful Aprils I can remember. Pap always said the gods were laughing, watching us wear out the zippers on our rain gear and laces on our boots.
Much of it my own undoing, as some corn chute ran straight fuel in my beloved vintage 026 Stihl. I'm still trying to figure out what in the Sam Hell distracted me from my lifetime habit of dumping the oil in the empty fuel jug first. As my parts order qualified for free freight, I accepted as one would; unbeknownst to me that the shipment would skirt the Panama Canal and arrive in Western Washington from Florida via Tierra del Fuego better than two weeks later ... and now I'm rained out to boot. Shoulda paid the three day airship charge dumass!
Hear the God's chuckling?
A couple of nubbened bucks wandered in the other evening for a spell, between squalls. The deer preffer matured bitters, so I let the back field go a bit to distract them from the garden. I dont begrudge them pruning the roses either, they really do expert workmanship. One less thing for me to do. We look forward to the doe's bringing the wee'uns on their annual pilgrimage for the windfalls off the Gravenstien later in the season. The few weeks of Bambi Ballet gives my missus immeasurable joy.
Leaving water available for all creatures great and small provides a respit for weary travelers. The large bird bath is consistenlty befouled by the dominant, mated pair of crows who must soak all their trophies prior to consumption. Corn chips, bread, shell fish, and delectable bit sof road kill make for a tasty gruel when simmered by solar power. Miffed that I have swish out the swill periodically, I snicker when the deer eschew the larger drinking stations and sample from the stew pot of Jacon and Jackie Crow. Shudder
Annoyingly, the lawns proper are shooting up wildly with all that free range nitrogen falling from the sky. My land mower looks up at me weerily and mutters under it's breath, "not again ...". I shouldnt complain, its the first stage of horse sh*t. Properly cooked, I cut out the middle man, and dont have to transport manure in the conventional fashion.
The radar shows some gap later today, I'll venture up to the digs to pick some snow peas, and scowl at my just flowering, but soggy tomato plants. They were bashed with more freak hail than Ive ever seen, about 5 hours after they came out of the cold frame and were planted. I credit them for their tenacity. Ya gotts to keep your sense of humor, I reckon.
Grumble yes, grumble no, likely a bit of both, perhaps even in unison. Same planet, just a different corner of it.
Over and out.
Bill
My grump is often not suitable for public consumption. Sanitizing it through the decorum filter kinda takes the fun out of it for me.
A sloppy wet spell in the Pac NW currently pummeling my efforts into the mud. The long overdue removal of a decorative Arborvite hedge along the lower patio. No doubt punishment for one of the most beautiful Aprils I can remember. Pap always said the gods were laughing, watching us wear out the zippers on our rain gear and laces on our boots.
Much of it my own undoing, as some corn chute ran straight fuel in my beloved vintage 026 Stihl. I'm still trying to figure out what in the Sam Hell distracted me from my lifetime habit of dumping the oil in the empty fuel jug first. As my parts order qualified for free freight, I accepted as one would; unbeknownst to me that the shipment would skirt the Panama Canal and arrive in Western Washington from Florida via Tierra del Fuego better than two weeks later ... and now I'm rained out to boot. Shoulda paid the three day airship charge dumass!
Hear the God's chuckling?
A couple of nubbened bucks wandered in the other evening for a spell, between squalls. The deer preffer matured bitters, so I let the back field go a bit to distract them from the garden. I dont begrudge them pruning the roses either, they really do expert workmanship. One less thing for me to do. We look forward to the doe's bringing the wee'uns on their annual pilgrimage for the windfalls off the Gravenstien later in the season. The few weeks of Bambi Ballet gives my missus immeasurable joy.
Leaving water available for all creatures great and small provides a respit for weary travelers. The large bird bath is consistenlty befouled by the dominant, mated pair of crows who must soak all their trophies prior to consumption. Corn chips, bread, shell fish, and delectable bit sof road kill make for a tasty gruel when simmered by solar power. Miffed that I have swish out the swill periodically, I snicker when the deer eschew the larger drinking stations and sample from the stew pot of Jacon and Jackie Crow. Shudder
Annoyingly, the lawns proper are shooting up wildly with all that free range nitrogen falling from the sky. My land mower looks up at me weerily and mutters under it's breath, "not again ...". I shouldnt complain, its the first stage of horse sh*t. Properly cooked, I cut out the middle man, and dont have to transport manure in the conventional fashion.
The radar shows some gap later today, I'll venture up to the digs to pick some snow peas, and scowl at my just flowering, but soggy tomato plants. They were bashed with more freak hail than Ive ever seen, about 5 hours after they came out of the cold frame and were planted. I credit them for their tenacity. Ya gotts to keep your sense of humor, I reckon.
Grumble yes, grumble no, likely a bit of both, perhaps even in unison. Same planet, just a different corner of it.
Over and out.
Bill
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Now just toss it the landfill and buy a new one.
Nawwwww recycling is fun.... I take the punch press, plasticated piece of trash out and smash it repearedly with a sledge in the driveway, or take it downrange and empty a gun on it, maybe both ends of the garden mattock it Im feeling extra comsummerized.
Nawwwww recycling is fun.... I take the punch press, plasticated piece of trash out and smash it repearedly with a sledge in the driveway, or take it downrange and empty a gun on it, maybe both ends of the garden mattock it Im feeling extra comsummerized.
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Always enjoy the splendid pix!
Looks like the ivy is giving the night shade all it can handle.
Volunteerism is my preferred method of gardening. Encouraging fox glove on a terraced area of glacial trash at the back of our "Rottage Garden", attracts pollinators in droves. The missus likes their grand stature and long bloom cycle. As a large biennials go, they're just as easy to yank, as they are to propagate. Easy come easy go.
Looks like the ivy is giving the night shade all it can handle.
Volunteerism is my preferred method of gardening. Encouraging fox glove on a terraced area of glacial trash at the back of our "Rottage Garden", attracts pollinators in droves. The missus likes their grand stature and long bloom cycle. As a large biennials go, they're just as easy to yank, as they are to propagate. Easy come easy go.
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Consider that luxurious coats of lacquer and spritzing parts cleaner are stinky bad, and thus banished to the shop. However, propping your keister up where ever you please; then stripping off and freshly re-"schlvarniquing" the pinkys and piggies doesnt reak in the least.
An expertly deployed salvo is the foundation of a good marriage. Even better if one can flea bomb every room in the house, and paint them into a corner.
Fart ninja
An expertly deployed salvo is the foundation of a good marriage. Even better if one can flea bomb every room in the house, and paint them into a corner.
Fart ninja
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Knowing no boundary, multiple states in Great Plains were blackened in their wake ...
So then, copious amounts of methane production in the days of yore is not equivalent to the copious amounts of methane produced of today ... ?
Clearly not enough tigers ate their young over the last century. The unfettered growth of the body politik has brought about an astronomical rise in toxic "undigested" methane. Still colorless, it is undifferentiated by odor; but it is easily identified by the fact that only one animal on the planet produces it, from the end of it's upper chute.
Buffalo chips by any measure. A mass extinction is indicated. It's just not who they think it should be.
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Disabling internal combustion?
Put a sock in it.
Not metering air will kill most "fuel rejected" rigs.
Install a manual choke. That'll really confound them.
Put a sock in it.
Not metering air will kill most "fuel rejected" rigs.
Install a manual choke. That'll really confound them.
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When ya reach point no point, it's always best to request a supervisor in these cases.
Disregarding a hearing disability is baaaaad form.
Witnesses at all times isnt a bad way to go.
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... clearly they are asking, "Banker's hours?" ... as well as answering, "Moost be nice! "
... "How does one breath through that little thing?" (oh wait, thats another joke with elephants)
*
The "workmans arm chair"? I have both. An gnarly beast who's bucket is gashed n battered by the stone tonnage of years. It wont hold a drop. The other is a shiny near mint hod mixer, and never sees a stone bigger than the end of yer thumb. Each has it's advantages.
Importantly, both are equallty capable of supporting a napping human on a union break, should the need arise. At my age, the missus has decided that I deserve both!
Bill
... "How does one breath through that little thing?" (oh wait, thats another joke with elephants)
*
The "workmans arm chair"? I have both. An gnarly beast who's bucket is gashed n battered by the stone tonnage of years. It wont hold a drop. The other is a shiny near mint hod mixer, and never sees a stone bigger than the end of yer thumb. Each has it's advantages.
Importantly, both are equallty capable of supporting a napping human on a union break, should the need arise. At my age, the missus has decided that I deserve both!
Bill
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I'm a two fingered hunt and pecker. Typing class was after gym.
60 werds a minuet, wit 60 misrakes ... perfektion!
60 werds a minuet, wit 60 misrakes ... perfektion!
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Sorry for your loss Stu!
The line between meddling and concerned advocate is often thin. You'll run the coulda shoulda woulda game through your mind for a bit. Frustration, for lack of a better term is typical of caring folk every where. It's been two years since mom passed, and it still comes in it's own way.
I know that in the greater scheme, as her child; I'd be in trouble for lolly gagging about it, rather than adopting a head up and jib into the wind attitude.
It doesnt mean we dont miss the ole battle axe every day.
Bill
The line between meddling and concerned advocate is often thin. You'll run the coulda shoulda woulda game through your mind for a bit. Frustration, for lack of a better term is typical of caring folk every where. It's been two years since mom passed, and it still comes in it's own way.
I know that in the greater scheme, as her child; I'd be in trouble for lolly gagging about it, rather than adopting a head up and jib into the wind attitude.
It doesnt mean we dont miss the ole battle axe every day.
Bill
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