Wednesday, May 04, 2016

sadly, the isotope smelled of zebra urine

Waking up in a quagmire of ski lessons mixed with proctology visits is unlike any Saturday morning recreational activity that a teenaged lemur would suggest to an electron.

Continuing to do something that has already stopped is not a recommended procedure when referring to using a toaster to heat up ice cream. I should know.

An elocutionist who specialized in speech impediments lisped uncontrollably while barbecuing a submerged Kit Kat bar. This reminded no one of something that they should have kept from not remembering.

The foot step sounds of a coworker are extremely identifiable, especially considering this coworker's gait. I make little noise when I perambulate, rendering my identification by foot step sound insoluble.

A meritocracy went disco bowling on a Tuesday night and scored a high score: J.

There was a time when time was not made of cream cheese. There was also a time, way back, that it could be argued that cream cheese did not exist. Time renders inexistential the capacity for cream cheese to wallow vacuously. I should know.

That even Mod would make it into a Ceremonial Soup post begs the question of appropriateness. Given my quality but paltry-numbered readership, I don't think it matters even a scintilla. Of course, if Mod were ever to read this blog, it is doubtful that Mod could make sense of four sevenths of it.

The sordid bits scraped off a partially used soap bar did not go down well in Gertrude's Rice Krispies cereal on Monday morning. That I introduce a character at this point in the post


Zhoen said...

I always rather assumed this was code, and I was providing a smokescreen, unwittingly.

Phil Plasma said...

Sometimes it is code, and the best part is that a year or more from now I won't remember what it was code for, so then it will be as much nonsense for me as it is for anyone else.

Well, unless I do remember.