Category Archives: warbling

just warbling (on the level)

Yeah he hasn’t been on the level in some time. “Wait, has he ever been on the level?” Whoa, you’re right. You’re so right it burns! Oww. It hurts. Your truth stings. But it also sings. I mean, yeah, of course, as long as I’ve known him (4 years), Vim, Bill, whatever he’s calling himself these days, yeah he’s never been completely on any level whatsoever. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you asked him, “Hey Vimmy, been on the level lately?” and he answered, “Wha you talking about? Gimme a cookie,” or some sorry shite like that. “I’m too busy solving Sudoku puzzles.” Vimmy get a job, get one quick, please.

Cookies, people, can mean the deaths of millions. Write it down. Either you’re choking on them or they’re choking on you. Write it the shit down! Seriously. Get some paper. Find a pen that works. Yeah that one should be fine. Write it down in your little notebook, memorize it, tear out the sheet of paper, eat it, then forget everything you learned cause it won’t help you in the real world.

Dammit I once ate an entire bag of sprinkles then threw myself on purpose down a flight of stairs. You wanna know why? Cause I was pissed off. Oh I was fuming from head to toe. Wanna know why? I hate to be weak. Hate it. Cause weakness leads to death which leads to horse-gambling. Write it down dammit. Why do you think I’m talking here, for my health? That’s laughable. No. This is for you. You need it. You’re the weak one. I couldn’t be healthier. Heart disease? HA. I laugh at heart disease. I poke heart disease in the eye, push him to the ground, pour apple juice on his fat face. HA. But he knows I’m only kidding around. Heart disease and I go way back. Dammit, Vim, seriously, if you’re using a Sharpie in my new Snakes-On-A-Sudoku book I’m gonna come over there and slash your throat. WHAT! It is Sharpie! Give me the book! Give it to me! Let go! Let, good, there! You can have it back when you’re back on the level, which will hopefully be during this century sometime.

That was funny, write it down!

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just warbling (it’s not enough)

Yeah, see, it’s not enough, right, all of it, I swear. It’s not enough to be all straggly-hot. Ok, yeah I admit it, he’s completely and utterly straggly-hot. He is. He’s like a biscuit, he melts in your mouth, I admit it, the whole deal. He gives people strokes he’s so hot. He makes you start bleeding internally (true story), cause whenever you’re near him, everything inside you (your blood, even your freaking plasma) just wants to jump out your skin and touch his face, cause it looks so smooth, yet it’s incredibly straggly at the same time, don’t ask me how he does it (apricots?). Don’t ask me, I said. Please I need to finish this.

Right. Here I am telling you, it’s not enough, ok. Yes he stops traffic just by walking his little walk, sort of like a bird with little babies walking behind him, only his chick-babies are his cheek-bones and his freaking incredible knees (you’ve never seen knees like these, I swear), bapricot.jpgut what the hell, it’s not freaking enough. This is me, ok, and I’m telling you, it’s not enough.

Ok. Yeah. I knew a guy once. A rich guy. Had a billion-trillion pounds, in a duffle bag in his closet. Yeah I know that’s a lot of money, no kidding. You’re thinking to yourself, “This guy’s got it made.” Wrong. next day, guess what, he dropped dead. Don’t believe me? Well it’s true. Cause of death: Strep throat. Went undiagnosed, freak thing, tragic. But point is, details, yeah? They’re not enough. They’re not. No matter how beautiful your knees are. You think Strep throat cares about your knees? Don’t think so. Good, ok. Glad that’s settled.

And also: stay in school.

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just warbling (blah)

yeah, so i guess sort of the other day I was just blahing around (whatever), thinking about blah, minding my blahs and q’s or maybe my p’s and blahs, not entirely sure, and I guess perhaps at some point, this nondescript character, um, he comes up to me, his face and hair were both pretty blah, and, he was wearing this gray-blue-green-white-ish t-shirt that had some writing on it, that, I don’t really remember what it said exactly, but I do remember thinking it was pretty blah, you know.

oldlady.jpgAnyway, he asks me how I’m doing, oh yeah I guess I kind of knew him, we took some seminar together sophomore year maybe junior year on like the cultural implications of carbon dating (don’t take it, btw, the reading list was really blah) so yeah he was like, “How are you doing?” and I’m all, “Well, I don’t know, I feel sort of blah today, I don’t know” and he’s like, “Same here, blah too,” then his stomach makes this entirely audible grumbling, we both heard it, and we’re pretty sure this woman down the street heard it too, she completely stops what she was doing, (cleaning up after her brownish-beige dog, blah), and looked right at us. “Uh, you hungry” I ask him. “Ehh, not really,” he answers wavering. “But I could eat, I guess. You hungry?” My face scrunches up. “I’m not sure,” I look down, deciding not to go into the fact that my stomach’s been feeling blah all day.

“Maybe something light?” I half-offer. He sort of nods. We walk off slowly, in no direction in particular.

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just warbling (i never)

Ok. I never touched her Fallopian tubes. That’s right. And I never sang to her hamster. Oh wow, and I definitely did not steal her stamps! Why would I? I can mail things for free at my job. Doesn’t make sense. No. I most certainly never told her sickly grandmother about her tattoos. Oh, stop! First of all. I didn’t even know she had a grandmother, let alone one who’s all sick. Oh really? That’s too bad, poor thing.

Wait, what? You heard my fingerprints were on the scene? Who told you that? Oh, a source. Wait wait, hold on. Exactly what scene are we talking about and who’s dusting for fingerprints? Tyrone? Tyrone who? Tyrone Fletcher? He’s a WHAT? Ok. If Tyrone Fletcher’s a private eye, I can make milkshakes with my ass. I’m sure he did take a class online. I bet he does have a certificate hanging above his stove. That doesn’t change the fact that he used to lose his thumbsthumbs_up.png in fourth grade. You got it. We’d all be practicing cursive or whatever and he’d start hysterically crying out of nowhere, and the teacher knew by now what it was, “They’re on your hands Tyrone!” But he still didn’t get it, he’s looking all around. “Look at your hands Tyrone! Your thumbs are attached to your hands!” Oh sure, I don’t doubt he’s made major strides since then. Because people change. They most certainly do.

Look, get the hell off my lawn, ok? And if Miss So-and-So wants to come see me in person, she better bring her lawyer next time. Oh, Tyrone Fletcher’s her lawyer now too? Took another online course? That’s perfect. I’ll tell you what. Just give Miss So-and-So a little message for me, ok? Just tell her: I never loved her. That’s right. All those times I said it to her. Nope. I didn’t mean it. Just said it for symmetrical value. Symmetrical. It means two halfs of equal sides. S-Y-M-M – ok just – hold on a sec, I’ll write it down for you. Let me just get a pen from the house. No you stay there. I’ll be right out.

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just warbling… (heck yeah)

Um. Lard is pretty funny. But butter, ehhh, you know, it could be funnier. And. Acorns. Yeah. They’re not the funniest either, to be perfectly honest. But pine cones. Yeoow! For some reason, they’re pretty darn, they’re just, they’ll make you chuckle no doubt about it, 1spi-30746.jpgespecially if they’re caught in your beard! Wow! Because, just imagine for one darn second, um, you got a big ol’ beard, bearwithme, and you’re rolling around on the ground, it’s autumn (of course) – leaves are about, they’re, some might say, leaves-are-a-plenty, and when you stand back up, wha-oh! What’s that? Pine cones in your beard! OMG! That’s wow, that’s hilarious! Not one, but two! I can’t, um, that’s never been done before, I don’t think. Never. At least not for a long long – many years time. Well we’ve been coming up here for two years, so at least not since then. Um. You just, you my friend have stumbled upon a sincere funny. Just amazing. Just.

Best time of year, hands down. Just. Heck yeah.

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