Okay class. Listen up. Here’s a list of inbred contractions that absolutely must be included: -A camera walking into the picture frame. -A series of thoughts that arrive on a conveyor belt. -Rusty nails absorbed in steely concentration. -Banjo lessons held inside a Trojan horse. -A pocket handkerchief with a wrinkled brow. -A vase wearing

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So my friend Phil is telling me how he can’t get a date how he loves women and how they’re always giving him looks so I ask him what kind of looks so he winces at the beautiful braless young woman passing by at that particular propitious moment giving her a look of such longing

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after work everyday two old women wearing tennis shoes would hang outside the liquor store waiting for their bus– these smiling gals in tennis shoes were seen diving hard onto the concrete the day gun shots came flying from inside the store, making it the high point of their dull lives– and like urban birds

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assume a new identity every quarter hour: be saintly, paranoid, the lonely owner of a cat. butter a slice of bread on both sides. drop it. frown at the result and repeat your experiment seventeen times; take notes for posterity. sing a song he doesn’t like. gather dust balls and put them on a shelf

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My name is Nameless and I am a googleholic My friends said I needed intervention, that unaided ungoogling is unbearable, suggested Googleholics Anonymous (GA). (I had to google to find one, though) The GA director said googling is incurable, that once a googleholic always a googleholic, that it was predestined and permanent. (I googled all

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