A snippet of the legend of The Green Bowling Ball

In some place that could or should maybe be described as a forest, or not quite a forest as it was riddled with much more shrubs than trees: perhaps we'll call it the plains; There lived a generously over sized man in a house: not quite a house perhaps because it lacked stories, and sizable meaning: let us just refer to it as a gainfully employed hut.

Without describing specifics at length, he was a mailbox of a man, slender legs, disproportionate top, and the kind of gaping mouth that could let out with as much chuckling verbiage as it could take in brandy, food, or air. The bellows of his frame though never studied in detail, were quite certainly the most ambitious set of lungs a body had ever seen. These lungs which brought power to this perpetually stirring, jumping, and rumbling creature, would surely run any small cap wind powered turbine electric companies that setup shop nearby directly into dow status in no time at all. Were they not lungs but rather brain or ambition, certainly we would be upon another twistingly entertaining century with plenty of new exciting to go around. Alas they were lungs and very good lungs that powered a heavy voice.

And so this was the man we start with. And so this is the beginning of the legend of the Green Bowling Ball.

Sprinkle Fleckies

This delicate coating of sporamza (half sporatanisoin half amzingula) has managed its way about my brain. It seems to be a side effect resulting in high seasonal joliatude, and a significant bout of personal questioning, "where the light has gone." Hiding under the mountains along with my supply of light is a good old helping of home cooked seasonality. Presents and kindly acknowledged figures of speech are found abound, "merry... and happy..., and have a great..." coat my emotions and make everything a pinker shade of .. happy.
!out!

Mr Manly pants

R and R
Mr. Manly Pants stopped in earlier, and he took the internets down. He had hung them up earlier that week, and they were goldeny and fresh, just out of the washer. It wasn't that Mr. Pants had dirty internets, but merely that they could use a little scrubbing. So lo and behold, Manly dropped the internets into a laundry basket and tah dah fresh and clean. When Mr. Manly pants took the internets down this time, they were not so fresh and clean, but rather they had been sullied up by high bandwidth and too much blogging. Manly Pants thought about putting the internet up properly this time, and failed miserably. Good work Mr. Pants.
!OUT!

Report from the front:

Bump go the apples before the blender gets them, and so coincidentally does the car while you parallel park your way home: sorry guy in front of me. It wasn't the kind of day that should be rewarded with a pin.

Lagging lallygagging, and general sense of Argh! filled the afternoon. It's nice seasoning to the season. Did you know that this season might make you fatter,

I found this gem of knowledge out quickly last night when my shirts refused to cuddle me gently, but rather pulled at my tum tum. BOO hiss goes the crowd. It's a gentle fusion that mixes and stews perfectly together to form my specialty "Oh the heck with it all stew." MMMMM tasty.
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Red blue shift

last night I looked out the window and saw a pileup on our little Podunk street, turns out it was a drug bust. The amazing things you can see out your bathroom window