Apostrophe Catastrophe

I like apostrophes. I really do. I think they are great, and I find the rules regarding them easy enough to remember. However, as we know from spiderman, with great power comes great propensity for stupidity. or something like that.

I think properly used apostrophes are a beautiful thing. Equally, there is nothing that says "Hi, I live up in them hills with my banjo, my 50 cats, and my 2 teeth" like the blatant misuse of the apostrophe.

Let's take the apostrophe blunder that really gets my goat: Using an apostrophe to pluralize a word. PEOPLE!! If you use an apostrophe to make a word plural, I will come to your house and pull your toenails out through your nose!!!!!! Here are some examples: CD's for sale. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!n CDs CDs do you spell boxes like this: box's? or Pony's? How about Idiot's? NO YOU DON'T, unless your brain is made of kitty litter. Another example: (this one I actually saw on the side of a homeland security trailer) "Participating Agency's: Springville, Spanish Fork..." etc. AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!! I knew the government was kinda slow, but COME ON!!! If you have more than one agency, an apostrophe isn't helping you. The word is actually Agencies. No wonder it took FEMA so long to get to New Orleans. That was harsh, but not as harsh as I am going to be with the amoeba that made the graphic for the side of that trailer.

Here is my new rule: "When in doubt, just leave it out!" I promise you will look much less like a feeble minded rock-biter if you accidentally leave an apostrophe out than if you put one where it just doesn't belong.

In closing, I would just like to say this: I probably make plenty of punctuation mistakes, but I don't care. This isn't about me, this is about apostrophes. Stay focused, moron.

I'm just not afraid of ghosts anymore. I used to be terrified, but I just can't be afraid of them anymore. Here's the problem: I have never ever heard of a ghost attacking ANYBODY. I mean, sure, there are scary ghost movies where the ghosts get people, but in real life nobody has ever claimed ghost attack. I know what you are thinking: "How long has it been since I have had a cookie? Has it been long enough for me to have another one without guilt?" Well, STOP THINKING THAT!! We are talking about ghost attacks here!! Or rather, we are talking about the non-existence of ghost attacks.

I am sure that you think I am just being silly, but I assure you that I am not. I know that you think that just because no one has claimed it, doesn't mean it hasn't happened. Well, I'm sorry that you think that. You must be pretty dumb. I am obviously right, just by virtue that I know a LOT about ghosts. Let's make a little comparison here: Aliens. That's right! I said it!! Aliens. Nobody can even agree about whether they exist or not, and how many people claim that they have been abducted?! Like a million. A million people every year claim to have been abducted by aliens and taken to their spaceship and had tea with their leader. Now I ask you again, how many people have claimed ghost attack?

The answer is: none. That's right, Paraclese, none.

The truth is that ghosts DO exist, as opposed to aliens, who don't. Ghosts simply don't care about the living. And why would they? You don't have anything they want. They don't need to eat or buy things or talk on the telephone. They probably spend most of their time break-dancing, or going to movies.

You know, I just had a thought: Maybe ghosts ARE aliens???? Maybe when you die, you turn into an alien.. That would explain a lot.

Why am I still typing, I need to find a panda.

Another Sydneyism

Today on the way down to the Payson Pool, Ethan and Sydney were having a little discussion about what they wanted to be for halloween. At one point I distinctly heard Sydney say "Well, I am NOT going to be a poundpire for halloween, they are TOO scary!"

I am not sure what a poundpire is. Maybe it is the guy that guards the dog pound? Or.... nope, that is the only thing it could possibly be.

In other news, I have been involved in this play called "Bells are Ringing." It's a play about a mobster who is trying to get money from this dude. Ok, it isn't about that really, that's just a small part of it. But along with doing lights and sound, I play the mobster, so obviously, it's the only part that matters. I am having some fun with it. I get to use my vast acting experience to deliver lines like: "Is Sandor around?" and "shut up." Oh and my favorite line: "shut up!" Fun times.

Have you ever started something and then got tired of it halfway through and just de

Pitter Patter

This stream of consciousness is going to work out!  I just know it.  I am pretty dang sure that I can sit down to this computer and just type, and no matter what I type it will be awesome!!

Ok, now I am out of ideas.  Oh!  How about another poem?

Pitter-patter little mouse
sneaking all around my house
Fae caught you once inside her closet
While she made a shirt deposit

Pitter-patter little mouse
Fae doesn't want you near her blouse!
so I sent Ethan for my broom
(I keep it in the other room)

My eyes stayed fast upon your spot
A way to pass me filled your thoughts!
Oh where's the broom!  Hey look! It's here!
and then you knew the end was near.

The curtains closing, things looked bleak.
Your chances slim, your position weak.
And just when things were at their worst
When with fear you thought you'd burst
a tiny flash of hope and chance
told you that you might pass Lance
without being hit by my large broom
maybe you could skip your doom.

So up you sprang!
Out toward the door!
My broom, I swang
down toward the floor!

I did not get you on that day
You jumped and zagged and got away

But heed my words, for this I swear
If I see your mousy hair
Even though It cause me strain
I'll whack you hard right on your brain!

Frantically patient, softly furious.

 I guess what I am saying is:

I really do need oxygen, I just don't need it pumped into my lungs for me. You feel me, frog?

In quiet times I like to find a dim corner.  I slowly raise a plastic colander to wear as a hat on my head. Then I sing sweetly until forest animals begin to gather near me with soft looks of curious wonder.  When all of the stresses of life have settled and I am at one with nature, I pull out my air-horn..

Listen, I haven't written in this blog for awhile.  I don't know why.  I can't remember how to write stuff.  I sit down at the computer, and all that comes out is.... RELEASE THE HARPSICHORD QUEEN!!!!

Poetry is the wind from which we seek to establish the foundation of our base upon.  All writers of every genre seek that magical moment when a string of letters forms into words, and those words form into word-strings, and those word-strings form into word-string-clusters.  That's where the magic really happens!

You know what the real problem with blogging is?  You can't do a clip-show when you don't feel like recording a full episode!!  That would be cool.  Well, for the author, not for the reader.

I could be like:  2009 was really full of fascinating fine literature.  We all remember the moment when the Sadbot....

I won't though.  Although, now that I think of it, I really should write a Sadquel.  I know that everyone has been pining for more about that big metal heartless cutey-pie!!

Ok, well my pen is out of ink..

Hippo Man

I have been trying really hard lately to lose weight.  I mean, I have done everything under the sun.  I have walked up and down the stairs a few times, I have done sit-ups (well, I did ONE sit up, to reach the remote.)  I have also cried a lot about how fat I am, shouldn't that count for something?

Why can't the weight just lose itself?  I just don't think I should be responsible for every little....  Hold on a sec, I just got a hankerin' for a ham sandwich.

Ok, I'm back.  I haven't written a poem for awhile, so here is one that has been passed down through generations and generations... and then thrown away, but I snagged it out of the garbage:

Harold
-------------------
Harold was a lonely old man
and a sorry old man was he,
In winter winds through thick and thin
he ate til half past three.

This was a practice set in stone
and never would he budge,
But did this practice served him well?
I'll let you be the judge.

For on one blustery winter night
a stranger came to call,
But hunger forced that sad old man
to pay no mind at all.

The stranger, in a heated rage
set fire upon the spot
and turned and left the dumpy house
to turn from cold to hot.

If Harold felt the fire's sting
we'll prob'ly never know
for Harold sat and ate his food,
he loved his dinner so!

The point which I am making here
is one of loud forewarning,
if you eat too much at night,
you'll be sorry in the morning!

Life is like a roller coaster. It seems really scary until you summon up the courage to try it.  You have to really dig down deep, trusting that the experience could actually be fun once you get the hang of it.  And then, as you hear the last few clicks of the coaster car reaching the top of the first hill, and feel the awesome power of gravity as it begins to pull that car back to earth; It is at that moment that you realize what a horribly terrible mistake you have made.

No, it isn't your fault.  How could you have known?  I mean, yes, you read that brochure that another angel handed you describing the difficulties and seriousness of gaining a body.  But there isn't any way you could actually know what it was going to be like.  And just like the roller coaster, once you are on it, there is really only one way to get off early, and it isn't pleasant!

Now this may sound dismal and depressing, and it is.  But guess what!  There is a silver cloud to every lining.  And the silver here is: Silver!  What if you find a nickel on the roller coaster?  That would be pretty cool!

Let the lesson be this, lads and ladies: The less information in the brochure, the more questions you should be asking about the ride.