Friday Ephemera (811)
Not ball, rock. (h/t, Elephants Gerald) || On bats and regurgitation. || Tidy, yes, but tricky to remove. || In case of fire. || Nommy-nommy-nom. || Nommy-nommy-nom 2. || So how was your day? || Wiggling. || When they do this, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to break their ankles. || Alum. || Last days of the Cavendish Hotel, 1962. || Yes, but does he look girly, girly? || I quite like the idea of Delusion Visibility Day. || She wants to talk about her manhood. || Door policy. || For enthusiasts of toilet plunging. || Kiddie pool pervert meets police. || The progressive retail experience, parts 716, 717, 718, 719 and 720. || Companion, at height. || Suboptimal scenario. || Chernobyl fungus. || Not our finest offering. || Expensive stuff. || Hyphen needed. || And finally, they’re anti-fatigue lasers.
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Can’t talk. Titivating.
Can’t talk. Titivating.
I suppose after the titivating shall come the masticating?
I love those words – they have definite, yet innocent, meanings, and sound a bit naughty. And unlike thespian, jokes made using them have not been gone after by the That’s Not Funny police. Yet.
[ Writes covert deviant in notebook. ]
<Refiles notebook at far end of 38″ shelf of similar notebooks.>
Bears repeating:
Some people just want to pretentiously agonise. Or pretentiously blame.
On a bookshelf somewhere, there are several ancient notebooks. From back in the Before Times, when, if you saw something quotable or interesting, you had to write it out by hand. Or chisel it into marble, or something.
Don’t neglect the subsequent deglutition.