In the process of not doing anything particularly useful, which is to say I was looking for something I didn't find and got distracted, I was just flipping through an old journal. And found the following bits of nonsense, mostly from while I was living with
heuchera:
me, on taking poison: You say 'here I am and I'm dying, goodie.'
heuchera: No you don't.
*Ask not for whom the bed tolls. (It tolls for thee)
*It may rain before we are murdered in our beds.
*It's probably better to shave your head in the shower than in the rain.
*It's better to shave your hair than rip it out by the roots.
*But then again it may rain before you shave your head.
*You never can tell with rain.
*It may rain before we make custard.
"Your squash is beeping for you." / "I know. At least it's not tolling."
(and one for
grauwulf...) "Cook according to package directions. Not me. I do not wish to be cooked. I think it would be rather painful and possibly fatal." --me
"It's not morally reprehensible to go to sleep!" --
heuchera
Intermural brain hockey. --
heuchera (I have *no idea* what we were talking about...)
and then there's the note about the dream where I got voluntered for some sort of crop fertility ritual that involved being buried alive and then digging oneself out, to symbolize the growing of plants. Which is kind of cool. Much better than the one two pages over about carrying someone's severed head around in a bag because I caught a murdered girl in the river instead of fish while dragged out on a fishing trip with family who doesn't exist, and we had to cut her up so we could carry her back to hand over to the police. Er... most of the dreams in here don't involve dead people, though, really.... one of them involved escaped tapirs from the zoo...
and then there are the sketchy kiddie rhymes:
one and one are two
two and two are four
if the bed collapses
do it on the floor
Thirty days hath September
April, June and no wonder
all the rest eat peanut butter
save Grandmother-- she drives a Buick
Sleep, baby sleep
your father drives a jeep
your mother was a german spy
and she was shot by the FBI
sleep baby sleep
etc...
me, on taking poison: You say 'here I am and I'm dying, goodie.'
*Ask not for whom the bed tolls. (It tolls for thee)
*It may rain before we are murdered in our beds.
*It's probably better to shave your head in the shower than in the rain.
*It's better to shave your hair than rip it out by the roots.
*But then again it may rain before you shave your head.
*You never can tell with rain.
*It may rain before we make custard.
"Your squash is beeping for you." / "I know. At least it's not tolling."
(and one for
"It's not morally reprehensible to go to sleep!" --
Intermural brain hockey. --
and then there's the note about the dream where I got voluntered for some sort of crop fertility ritual that involved being buried alive and then digging oneself out, to symbolize the growing of plants. Which is kind of cool. Much better than the one two pages over about carrying someone's severed head around in a bag because I caught a murdered girl in the river instead of fish while dragged out on a fishing trip with family who doesn't exist, and we had to cut her up so we could carry her back to hand over to the police. Er... most of the dreams in here don't involve dead people, though, really.... one of them involved escaped tapirs from the zoo...
and then there are the sketchy kiddie rhymes:
one and one are two
two and two are four
if the bed collapses
do it on the floor
Thirty days hath September
April, June and no wonder
all the rest eat peanut butter
save Grandmother-- she drives a Buick
Sleep, baby sleep
your father drives a jeep
your mother was a german spy
and she was shot by the FBI
sleep baby sleep
etc...