Category: kinda funny

bark

“Oh my God, are you okay?”
They see my eye, they gasp and say
I pause and choose how I’ll explain the bruise

“I caught a baseball… with my face,”
I say with a strategic pace
Then they all laugh and tension is diffused

Or I’ll shrug, I’ll say “I’m fine,”
When clearly their concern’s benign
But I can’t take the “aw”s and pity hugs

Their jaws drop, their minds unsure
Of what to say, so I assure
With a smirk, “It’s fine, I’m taking drugs”

“Prince Fielder hit me,” I might try
And technically it’s not a lie
(a football-player-sized baseball player)

Though the ball was a foul hit
They always ask, “Did you catch it?!”
Treat me like some sort of dragon slayer

“Did he say sorry at the end?”
“Was it onscreen?” they ask my friend
I hope to God it wasn’t on TV

Because me staring like a freak
As it comes flying towards my cheek
Is not what I want everyone to see

“You should see the other guy,”
I grin, and if they ask why,
I tell them it happened in a brawl

But even if they think I fought
(which I can tell you, they do not)
The other guy’s a major league baseball

It was red, then black and blue
(at one point it was yellow too)
Now small marks remain of all the gory

It hurt a bit, but I’m alright
The bark was much worse than the bite
And this bark gave me one hell of a story

the age of auto-correct

I’ll be typing the word so
And right as I press the space
it’ll decide I mean do

Your dress is do cute?
I think
I guess it rhymes with too
Makes enough sense. I’ll leave it. 

Before I know it I’ve said
I want muggy bereft for lunch
I think
At least according to my phone

Soon enough, nothing I type means
What I’m thinking
But no one’s getting offended anymore, do
I think
I’ll just leave it

My problem was thinking before I spoke
But nowadays
I don’t think on my own do much

I think
This might be the age of auto-correct

dating profiles you might want to avoid

  • “There are no skeletons in my closet! 🙂 Well, okay, there are two. But they’re for research purposes, I swear.”
  • “Enjoys romantic candle-lit dinners, because electricity is the devil’s spindle.”
  • “Comes with minimal baggage! May need to borrow your clothes from time to time.”
  • “My mom says she’ll do your laundry too!”
  • “Looking for a female, ages 18-21. Must love to watch Whitney.”
  • “Trust me, I don’t play games. World of Warcraft is a way of life.”
  • “I’m a big fan of honesty. Abe Lincoln once called me the most honest person he’d ever met.”
  • “Must love dogs and not be a female one ;)”
  • “Enjoys long walks on the beach and running away from the coast guard.”
  • “Looking to share a life, not an iPad, or a soda, or a bathroom. Keep the toilet seat up, woman.”
  • “Looking for someone easygoing and fun- anything for Youtube views, am I right? ;)”
  • “I’m not looking for anything serious- that’s what my wife is for.”

frustration of the nose

My nose is stuffed.
I can barely breathe.
Tossing, and turning, and sneezing, I seethe.
Experience when
The clogging was clear
I struggle to, remember. I fear
My nose will be stuffed,
Forever in strife,
Reaching for tissues the rest of my life.

dear mr. fliver

  • I was cooking an egg this morning and it turned out it was a baby chicken and it exploded out of the shell! So anyway, the chick ate Robbie. We’ll miss him terribly. Always, Robbie’s mom
  • Robbie wanted to do his homework, but, alas, God came down on him and told him to watch TV. I figured, you can’t argue with that, right? So, Robbie’s been excused by God. Always, Robbie’s mom
  • Robbie’s been pretty annoying lately, so I’m not excusing him for having pneumonia. Always, Robbie’s mom
  • Allow me to explain—yesterday, Robbie had a dream. Robbie had a dream that one day we could all be equal, that students could assign teachers homework and that everything could be copasetic. Robbie was busy starting a revolution against teachers, and gathering the media. Please excuse him. I hope you fail. Always, Robbie’s mom
  • Robbie was playing educational video games all night and is exhausted. What a little scholar! Please excuse him for not coming to school for the next month. Always, Robbie’s mom
  • On his way to school, Robbie was saving a kitten from a tree when it bit him and then he turned into Kitten Man and tried to save the world and stuff but then his evil nemesis called Mr. Dog or something came out of nowhere and defeated him. The world is no longer safe. Always, Kitten Man’s mom
  • Robbie is getting revenge on me for being terrible and not letting him go to Angela’s party, even though he cleaned his room. He has every right to be angry, and to not show up to school. I’m a stupid freaking lunatic. Always, Robbie’s mom
  • As it turns out, we mistook Robbie for the wrong baby in the hospital. He goes to school in Utah now, with his parents who are in a cult-thing. We thought we would miss him, but we like their son MoonRock better anyways! It’s a win win! Always, MoonRock’s mom
  • Robbie decided to become a hobo, then changed his mind. Please excuse him for not doing his homework. Always, Robbie’s mom

me vs. fudgie petite cookies: a battle sequence

A bright green plastic mini-bag of fudgie petite cookies shouldn’t be that difficult to open, right?
But I honestly can’t be the only one this has happened to…

1. I am overly excited to consume the little cookies, after 5 hours of waiting.
2. I pull at the sides of the plastic bag.
3. I raise an eyebrow. Is there a reason this bag isn’t opening?
4. I pull harder, and the bag doesn’t budge.
5. “That’s it,” I speak to the bag (my sanity is all but gone at this point), “Just… OPEN!”
6. I give one last yank at the bag.
7. The little delicious fudgie cookies explode all over my floor.
8. “Damnit…”

9. Repeat stages 1-8 with barbeque potato chips.

writers’ block

…
The tree’s leaves… willow in the soft wind and
Willow’s not a verb, is it?
…
Why the hell am I writing about a tree? I don’t care about some boring made-up tree.
No one wants to read about trees anyway…

Looking for inspiration.
Preferably the kind that sparks a brilliant idea that unravels into my first bestselling novel.
Will pay. Actually, won’t pay. Still, though.

She turned her head and shouted… to the heavens…
Really, Tova? To the heavens?
Do you think you’re Dickens or something?
…
Well, I’ve never read Dickens. I’m assuming he was a good writer because everyone still knows his name
And he’s been dead for a really long time,
Like Beethoven, but I don’t even listen to classical music, and
…
Will they remember my name?
And will I want to be remembered for what I’m being remembered for
and will I want…
Will I want
…

I can’t post about a tree or the heavens or anything too emotional
and I keep getting sidetracked by monotonous rants in my mind
and I guess I should be funny but sometimes it just doesn’t work
because funny is only funny when funny isn’t forced
and I’m staring at my fingers and my mind is still
[my fingers on the white-and-grey keyboard (duh)],
and I can’t write about my fingers either
because uninspired inspiration makes for uninspired writing and
…

…
So what?

questions taken out of this year’s exams

  • To the nearest integer, in how many years will the world end?
  • How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could, indeed, chuck wood?
  • Find Carmen Sandiego on the map provided below.
  • Which of the following was not a name of a European politician’s mistress?
  • In an epic battle, who would win?
    • a. God b. larvae c. yeast d. mega-turtle
  • Which of the following chemicals do you actually remember learning about?
  • James has 14 dollars. 4 dollars were stolen, then his money was divided by 5. 2 of James’ dollars then flew away in the wind. As an approximation, around when did James’ life begin to spiral downward?
  • Do you have a single sister? If so, please fill in her number in the bubbles provided below.

wanted pool slide (long island)

from Craigslist:
WANTED POOL SLIDE (LONG ISLAND)
Date: 2010-03-08, 6:52 PM EST
lOOKING TO BUY A USED POOL SLIDE FOR POOL . WILL PICK UP

Jonny, 17, wades in the middle of an indoor Olympic sized pool, looking towards Frank.
Frank, 16, stands at the top of a ladder above a pool slide.

Jonny: Dude, I… um…
Frank: What? Spit it out.
J: You’re… you’re too fat Frank. Don’t do it.
F: Voice rising- What are you worried about? I’ll break the slide? Attempts at a smile.
Jonny dunks underwater.
F: JONNY!
J: Rises from water, pulls back hair and squints his eyes- What?
F: You think I’m too fat for the slide.
J: Well, no, it’s not exactly that… just that… my parents trusted me with the pool while they’re in Switzerland and…
F: And you think my fat ass will break the slide.
J: Um… yeah. Yes.
F: You’re kidding me. I’ll pay for the freaking slide if I break it, okay? I’ll put an ad on Craigslist or something for a used slide! Laughs– Does that work for you?
J: Sighs- Whatever. Go for it, dude.

t-t-t-today, junior!

They told me junior year would be terrible. I appreciate that they tried to warn me, but no warning could have been sufficient. Junior year came straight out of hell.

September; school starts, and despite the dread, things aren’t so bad. Then again, there are only seven days of school.

October; I set my Facebook status: “History essay, math test, and physics test, all for tomorrow. Let junior year begin!” Twelve people like it, who I imagine chuckle then fade into a soft cry.

November; I’ve been pushed to the breaking point, but am determined to make it through. No mental breakdowns- is that too much to ask?
Ha.

December; I have my first breakdown. My mom suggests that I discuss with my teacher to work out some of my timing issues. I sniffle. “Not enough time,” I mutter.

January; my friend Aaron* admits to taking a mental health day. Aaron, who I have never seen fail a test or hyperventilate. “That’s it,” whispers my friend Jenna* to me, “we’re screwed.”

February; “we made it to February!!!” Jenna hollers to me over the phone. “Vacation! We ended up surviving!” After a pause, I retort, “I wasn’t aware our survival until now was in danger…” She laughed, and so did I- I totally knew the both of us were in danger of collapsing. “Just kidding! Ha!”

March; vacation again, and I’m starting to study for the AP that’s two weeks away. “For you procrastinators out there,” reads my review book, “we have a six-week plan. It’s not recommended, but gives just enough time to study.” I look at my calendar, then back to the book. “Shit,” I remark.

May; I’ve already taken the AP, so I’ve officially decided that I have no more work. My teachers disagree. One night, I don’t want to work, so I write instead. That was how I accidentally wrote my college essay.
See? Procrastination solves everything.

June; the ACTs are on my birthday, June 12th, which also happens to be in the heat of finals. I am seated at a tiny desk for the ACTs, at which point I muster up the guts to request a seat at the larger desk in the middle of the room. “Because you asked so nicely… you know what? Sure,” the proctor responded.
Best birthday ever.

June 17th; I’m just finishing up my math final, the last of the bunch. I check over the last problem and walk toward the teacher to hand in my test. As I stroll, I begin to skip. Delirious joy plants a blinding smile on my face. I do a happy-dance for the next 15 minutes or so.

I FREAKING MADE IT!

*names have been changed