Chewing Words

noun. verb. adjective. adverb…they're all tasty in my book

Archive for the ‘silly’ Category

The Art of Guffaw, Unabashed

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Language for a New Breed

There are so many talented bloggers out there. I mean, SCADS. And then there are also some bloggers who ought not. Some of these are the bloggers who believe a blog post is just a bigger version of their Droid screen, a place to give a shout out in textese x 1000 to…I don’t know who. It’s painful. Fortunately I don’t have to read them and don’t. Instead, I read some of you people and I seriously get all verklempt. The humor and honesty and intelligence and creativity. And did I say humor?

I’m a sucker for a humorous blog. The kind where there is thought behind the funny. It can be tight and sometimes elegant, wayward, foxy (and occasionally kinky), lazy-seeming but intentional. I love laughing out loud, by myself, sitting at my desk at home. Or in the office, with my employees sitting at their desks, all diligent and professional, while I’m snickering behind the latest Insurance Journal, sneaking a read on a blog over the top edge of the magazine. You can fire up your computer, hop on-line, and in a matter of seconds, find yourself immersed in the stories of Kazakhstan fortune-tellers or a voice recording artist in Beijing.

The vastness of the blogosphere can be daunting, but somehow I’ve always managed to find blogs that I can sink my teeth into. There are a few I still follow from the old days (pre-iPods) that are actually still writing. Many of those old links are defunct, but a handful have kept the flame alive. More recently I’ve found blogs that are new to me, but which have been going strong for years. I don’t mind coming into their world in the middle of their blogourney so long as they don’t mind picking me up so I can go along for their ride.

Carrie rocks the Manolos

Years ago,  I was looking for a pair of shoes, specifically a pair of Manolo Blahníks. For those not so enthralled by women’s footwear, Blahníks were(are?)  super-fantastic in the most sexy sense of shoes, made into THE thing for awhile with their regular appearance on the feet of the denizens of  HBO’s Sex and the City. Searching, though, I could find nothing that made me want to spend the kind of dough necessary to own a pair of these shoes that would, in Manolo Blahník’s words, “help transform a woman.” I wanted to be transformed, but didn’t have any extra cash burning a hole in my bank account for one of his classic shoey masterpieces. Putting Le Sigh behind me, I search-engined some more, and stumbled across The Manolo. At first I didn’t know what was going on. But as I kept reading, it just didn’t matter. The Manolo wrote on every subject imaginable and wrote with such a hilariously adept humor, I had to cross my legs whilst reading & howling to avoid having an accident.

And Covetous Behaviour Ensued

Manolo the Shoeblogger wrote about lovely shoes, stupid people, used cars, goatees, high fashion, more shoes, Cornholio, super fantasticness, romance novels, lots more shoes, Arnold, and one of my all-time favorites, Ponchos. In fact I have sat tonight (still childless thus indulging in Spudditism) reading through the archives of a blog I’ve followed since 2005. It is utter camp, with a relentless humor and voice that makes me just about die. This is the kind of blog I can come back to, again and again, and never tire of it.

The Manolo is most skilled in repartee. The Manolo is intelligent. The Manolo is well-read. And the Manolo flat out makes me guffaw, unabashed.

4/361: PostADay


Devil Inside

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What a Lucky Devil

My life sounds like pure high-strung crap at the moment, so I made myself have a little fun at the expense of moi-self. Christmas-time was less fun for me this year than usual, for all the reasons already hashed out elsewhere. But there are those moments that come high-jinxing in and you’d best have the good sense to appreciate them, otherwise you miss the whole point. The whole point being everything isn’t always so flippin’ serious.

I am notorious for being behind the camera and not in front of it. My daughter, however, has figured out how to take pictures with my Palm, and insists we do so frequently. So when Luckito El Gato began wreaking havoc with Ein Tannenbaum and mama was running around like a lunatic with Babes’ princess crown on her head and a water spray bottle chasing the cat, Babes thought picture taking was in order. So, I’ve created a bit of poesy (borrowing heavily from Clement Clarke Moore’s classic) that will hopefully give an idea of what a grand time was had Christmas Eve with mama a pneumonic mess, the cat with the Devil inside, and a 3 and a half year old who could appreciate the jolly, rolling time.

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Was coughing and flu, mama starting to grouse;
Old holey, slippers on the footies with care,
In the hopes that Santa would bring a new pair.
The Babes was nestled with mom and well-fed,
While visions of Bratz Girls danced in her head.
Mama in Babes’ crown and her old, peely sweater
Kept silently wishing she’d start feeling better.
When from under the tree there arose such a clatter
We sprang from the armchair to see what was the matter!
Away to the tree I flew in a flash
Bent over to see what had caused such a crash.
The white lights twinkled like stars from above
And gave lustre of mid-day to see the cat that we love
All tangled in decor, his whiskers aquiver,
I roared and harumphed, I wanted his liver!
I knew in a moment Luckito’d be dead
If didn’t calm down and start using my head.
More rapid than eagles the thought did arise
To spray him with water, a squirt in the eyes.
“Now kitty, you bad boy, now get out of there!
On Gato, on spazzo, I’ll get you, beware!

To the top of the stairs you’d better not run
Now dash away, dash away, be done with your fun!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So around the house that kitty was chased,
Streaming gold beads and tinsel, his fur was so laced.
And then in a twinkling I heard right beside me
Babes prancing and pawing, excited and happy
To see so much fun for mama and kitty
So festive, don’t stop, it’d be such a pity!
A squirt from the bottle held in mama’s right hand
On Gato’s orange head did decidedly land.
Babes’ eyes, how they twinkled! Her dimples, how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry!
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the grin on her face showed teeth like white snow;
The phone that she held in her palm like a gun
Began flashing off light like rays of the sun.
She had a cute face and a little round belly,
That shook, when she laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
She was chubby and plump, a right jolly small elf,
And I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself;
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave me to know the pictures I’d dread.
She shrieked and she laughed and went straight to work
And took lots of photos, I felt like a jerk.
The kitty sat preening himself on the floor,
Daintily picking around the decor.
Babes sprang here and there, pleased all around
Managing to get mama to calm down.
And I heard her exclaim as peace did restore,
“Christmas is fun when the tree’s on the floor!”

Written by cr8df8

December 29, 2010 at 3:58 pm