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October 27, 2006

10.27.06

What's wrong?

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Comments

The apple would be the perfect fruit for eating if the core would just disappear once you were finished with it. As it is, unless you are standing right next to a garbage can while you're eating the apple (and, really, who wants to stand next to a garbage can while eating?), when you're done with it you have get up and throw it away, or else right in front of your very eyes it will get old, turn brown, start moaning, want a divorce, and basically make you wonder what was so appealing about it in the first place.

Posted by: WJD at October 27, 2006 5:20 AM · Permalink

Banks that is what is bloody wrong. They do seem to be the biggest bunch of wankers on the planet here in the UK. Basically if you fail the (c)evil service exam you go work at banks. They are wonderful at taking your money or determining that you owe them something but useless at admitting mistakes (and there are lots) or making you money available for you to use.

Americans don't realise how crap British banks are until they get punted into the system like I was. The really scary thing is that banks in continental Europe are even worse!

Posted by: Andrew Ian Dodge at October 27, 2006 9:06 AM · Permalink

Fiction...we're writing fiction.

Posted by: Stacy at October 27, 2006 9:20 AM · Permalink

"What's wrong? Don't get me started, please. If I tell you, you might agree with me, which is, seriously, like the worst thing you could do. Kindest thing you could ever do - never agree with anything I say. In fact, you see me out somewhere, just avoid me altogether. Believe me, it's for my own good. It's like my rabbi always said, JUST SAY NO to neurotic Jews. He used to put a Beware of Dog Sign on his door whenever I came around. Lovely man, really."

This has been a public service announcement brought to you by Richard Lewis.

Posted by: ben martini at October 27, 2006 10:09 AM · Permalink

Breathing hard, Jansen dashed across the last expanse of open ground as the staccato of small-arms fire rang around him. A sharp whistle crescendoed to a window-rattling roar as a bloom of flame grew ahead of him. He cut to the right and dove under the barbed wire, gasping as a flechette tore into his leg.

Limping now, Jansen hobbled into the blockhouse and dropped his precious cargo. "Sarge, I got the Count Chocula."

Sarge's reply turned the air blue and took the wind out of Jansen's sails. Wearily, he turned around and headed back to get the forgotten milk.

Posted by: Keiran Halcyon at October 27, 2006 10:17 AM · Permalink

What's wrong? Nothing's wrong! Everything's peachy. Nothing to see here. Lovely day, dontcha think?

Oh, that thing attached to my leg? That's nothing. Just something I picked up on the way to work. Can't seem to shake it, actually. Hanging on pretty tight, no matter how hard I try to kick it off. So I've decided to ignore it.

You say it looks rather dangerous? I figure if I just ignore it, maybe it will go away. It would help if you'd stop staring at it. Please stop staring. Don't make it angry. Please. I'm begging you. Nothing's wrong. See?

Posted by: Susan at October 27, 2006 12:02 PM · Permalink

Uselessness:

I miss him now.

My granddaughter just left. She hesitated as we hugged, and then
told me how strong I am.

I miss him now.

This rain doesn’t help.

A dear friend called this morning, absentmindedly asking “what’s wrong?”
I shrugged off her question. “I’m fine.”

But, I miss him now.

The doctors said 10 years. He lived to be 39.

Never spoke, exiled to a wheelchair. I would have had fits of rage too.

His older sisters, long gone. His father, killed by a drunk. It was just the two of us.
Loving…., eachother.

And…., I miss him now.

Posted by: Kasac at October 27, 2006 12:29 PM · Permalink

FOOTPRINTS

In times of trouble, I remember walking in the sand with the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

Looking back, I saw our footprints.

Well, my footprints and his noodly scribbles in the sand, alongside.

Occasionally, there were just his noodly scribbles.

I said, "Hey, FSM. Where are my footprints? What are you doing? Are you trying to make it so I can't find my way home?"

He said, "Bleargh! Bleargh! Bleargh!"

And I was afraid.

I ran home before the tide washed away my remaining footprints.

The Flying Spaghetti Monster is mysterious, and might not help you when you need him.

Amen.

Posted by: PB McCoy at October 27, 2006 3:16 PM · Permalink

When he regained consciousness, he was quite sober.

His smashed car was a hundred yards away, by a small bridge. Then he remembered the party, all the beer, taking the curve too fast, and finally...

A fire truck pulled up, and an ambulance, their lights slashing through the dark, and they began working feverishly around his car. He called out to them that he was over here, but no one heard. As he started to get up, the bright light hit him, as though from a helicopter circling overhead.

A loud voice rang out: "Not in the book."

Oh, damnation...

Posted by: hnumpah at October 27, 2006 3:44 PM · Permalink

I drop the grocery bag on the floor and flick on the light. 'When did we get that picture? And the wall color seems a bit different.' Then I notice the new coat rack with one coat on it. 'Kids must be out. Hope George told them to be home by seven. Did the hall rug always have little blue flowers?'

This all feels very odd. 'Oh god, I’m in the wrong house!' A man comes down the stairs and it’s not George. He’s gorgeous and gives me a very seductive smile. 'Hmm…this might not be so wrong after all.'

Posted by: laieanna at October 27, 2006 4:59 PM · Permalink

Sorry, I don't know how to do italics in HTML. So, the 'blah blah' is her thoughts.

Posted by: laieanna at October 27, 2006 5:00 PM · Permalink

So is this blog written by multiple authors or just one? How do you come up with your themes? A neat idea you have here.

Posted by: Maddux Sports at October 28, 2006 6:31 PM · Permalink

It's multiple authors. We have a rotating schedule; each author comes up with the theme for one day every (roughly) week and a half.

The method by which that determination is made varies by person. Personally, I try to think up something ambiguous so people can go a lot of different ways with it. Of course, my themes haven't been very popular, so I may not be the one to ask.

There's also a way on the front page for others to submit their own theme ideas, which we may choose to use if we're stumped or our ideas suck.

Hope I didn't give away any trade secrets just then.

Posted by: David at October 28, 2006 11:29 PM · Permalink