Episode 12,034,923: Kris Learns A New Word

Kris: Semicolon? It sounds Japanese. Semicolon [bow].

BFI v. Aspen

I think, perhaps, come Thursday morning, which is garbage day in our neighborhood, it has been underestimated how much you can tell about a family by what sits at the end of their driveway, or maybe never estimated at all. For instance, the family that lives behind us, has two giant rolling garbage cans, both filled so the cover is at nearly a 180 with the body, and a recycling display that often spans over the yard. They have seven kids. Then there's the family that lives a few blocks down that I don't know, but judging by the giant Huggies box, well you do the math. There's the occasional driveway that just has one bucket-style can who's lid is perfectly fitting, and not at all bulging, with 1, perfectly organized by material, green recycling bin next to it--Their the elderly couples. Then there's the occasional family that still has a Bush '04 sign in their window, and, well, they don't have any recycling bins.

The [New] World According to Alex:

A reaction verbatim, to the crap that was The New World.
I have not seen it, but she's witty, so I share.

look, three big boats! im curious! hmm
-water
i can see you through the tall grass... i love you
"come to me"
-grass, trees
ooh weve captured him. teach me english. i like your hair
i like your hair, lets be in love
okay
-jamestown/swamp
oh no, smith died?! what now?
hello, lets get married. i still love smith, but youll do
wait... smith is alive?
-trees
lets go to england
look the queen
-gardens, baby
smith? i dont love you and your hair is greasy. plus you lied
oh no, im dying
FIN

Next.

Truth: When you add more words to the title of a soda, it does not make it better.

Proof: Black Cherry Vanilla Diet Coke.

Well She Just Walked Right Into That One...

Alex: Why did the chicken cross the road?
Kris: Like a chuck?
Alex: What?
Kris: A chucky? Chruck?
Alex: What?
Kris: Like the puppet?
Alex: Chucky.
Kris: Aren't they the same?
Alex: What? Chucky and what?
Kris: What is inside of an egg? A baby chicken.
Alex: A chick?
Kris: Ohhh yes. Aren't they the same?
Alex: A chick and Chucky? Nooo.
Kris: Really?

Stop Hanging Out In Bars And Do Your HomeLink.

Em and I teach a 7th grade faith formation class at our church. Last night we were questioned about the chemical pressures in High School.

Jack: Well SOMETIMES you can be somewhere where other people are smoking cigs, and you're not!!!
Me: Yeah, and its really good to not succumb to such a disgusting habit, especially if you're surrounded by it.
Jack: But SOMETIMES you can be at a bowling alley and just come home smelling like it even if you DIDN'T SMOKE!
Em: Yeah, that's true, it can happen, and that unavoidable, but as long as you don't smoke...
Jack: NO BUT SOME BARS ARE JUST SMOKY!!!

Karwhen: What's marijuana?
Me: It's a drug.
Karwhen: I know it's a drug but what IS it?
Me: A plant.
Karwhen: I know it's a plant but what ISSSS it?
Em: Its an herrrrrbb.

Sleeves: Part II

Dear Hilary Swank,

Thank you for wearing a dress without sleeves to the Golden Globes, although next time, try to explore colors outside of shades of steel.

Love,
Everybody.

And Yes, The Side Pony Is Definitely Making A Comeback

After our general ritual of Qdoba and self-mortification, Colleen and I ventured to Target to pick up a few things. I had to go get dog bones, and left Colleen for no more than two minutes in the grocery section. I came back and she was holding a 12 pack of Target Juice boxes, a variety pack of Target chewy bars, and was eyeing a 5 lb jar of Target granola. After mild protest, she admitted that she didn't, in fact, need any of the above things, and agreed to put them back, if she could keep her Propel.
Post-Target, we went to Barnes and Nobel in search of CDs and "When Harry Met Sally". An older man approached us, and after we declined his help, he glared at Colleen's Uggs and I quote, "So, did you kill those boots yourself?" followed by much awkward laughter and a prompt exit.
With nothing to loose, we blasted Aladdin all the way home, rocked the side pony, and counted Subarus.

Fire In The Hole!

Of my diaphragm!

A whistle attempt has resulted in sound!!!

I passed the test as to whether or not it was actually noise or white noise buy summoning the dog from the kitchen upon my whistle. She was greeted with praise and crumbs from my toast. My eyes were a little misty, but clearly, mist of pride.

As for now, its pretty much the sound of branches and electric cords spinning during a strong wind, but I'll keep you updated.
Tonight, I celebrate.

We Have The Facts and We're Voting Yes

Fact: The inventor of the knuckle band aid has the smart.

Fact: It is impossible to shave your legs without either cutting yourself or missing a spot.

Fiction: Fetal Pig dissection makes your stomach feel great.

Fact: Someone should meet with Webster about making "sticky-outy" an adjective.

Fiction: Moon boots are attractive footwear.

Fact: Moon boots are still sweet despite their extreme ugliness.

Fiction: I wish MY nickname was Stonewall.

Screen Print Tees For All

I am a total sucker for screen print shirts displaying quirky, random, or dark humor on them. (Note that "FBI: Female Body Inspector" does not qualify into any of these categories, nor does "99% Princess".) I was introduced to a site the other day called threadless.com. It's a company that takes submissions from artists and the artistically-challenged alike that come up with designs for tee shirts. They take almost anything, and are held in the "submissions" end of the site for awhile. There, anyone could spend hours going through hundreds of submissions, giving design feedback, and rate them, or in my case, a 1-5 funny scale. The company eventually takes a couple submissions every month to print and sell, for $15 compared to Urban Outfitters where there was a similar one for $98. I have my eye on one that displays a man farming mittens from a field.

Our Gang...Minus One.

Me: Hey, name this Little Rascals character! (holds the bang directly up)
Kate: Brandon!
>Pause
Kate: Wait..That can't be right.

The Epitome of a Teenage Boy

If you found yourself saying one of the following things recently, you may be suffering from Teenage Boy Syndrome (TBS).

TBS: Type I:

"So when I heard I was coming to your cabin this weekend, I decided that I could either bring a change of clothes and a toothbrush, or some gum...Does anyone want a piece of gum?"

TBS: Type II:

"Hey..Do you have any Axe? I haven't sprayed any since I got here and I totally left my travel Axe at home...Yeah Tsunami or Phoenix would be great."

Say It With Me Now

Burlap.

Say it out loud.
This is my new found diamond in the rough of underrecognized words. Burlap is kind of a disgusting fabric, generally stiff and scratchy, often for the storage of potatoes. However, the word itself should not suffer from the actual product. Similar to how the word "loaf" is under no circumstances to be associated to meatloaf, or any of its affiliates.

My theory on the word "burlap" is that after saying it, you feel as though you've said all the words.

Now how many times have you said it since you started reading?
Excellent.

Ambition Is In The Eye Of The Beholder

New Years Resolution 2006:

Learn to whistle.


Pointers welcome.