There once was a beautiful Kitten,
Who was absolutely cute as a mitten.
She infiltrated my heart
I know we'll never part,
Because we are Kitty & Kitten.
It ain't perfect, the meter is slightly off and the last line doesn't rhyme with the first, but I might be improving.
Something needs saying, but I can't quite express how to say it without sounding like an arsehole.
In a hut in a forest surrounded by wildlife.
Are you superstitious about walking under ladders?
The thing is, you can't just say "thinking or smiling?" because those are such opposing extremes that there's not much comparison. It's like comparing a sonnet to a limerick. Both are valid forms and both make you think, but just in very different ways.
Thinking is fine and dandy, but why does poetry have to make one think? It's just another way of telling a story, really. Why does it even have to adhere to rules? I think rules, though useful sometimes, can stifle creativity, especially in poetry. I'll bet that most poetic forms were stumbled upon, not really designed, but accidentally made.
I'll take laughing at, with or about a poem any day, thanks. I don't like being burdened with other people's heavy thoughts; mine are heavy enough as it is, without having the extra crap of someone else.
Not really. I have goals to do by set times, but that isn't really a resolution. Failure is always an option.
What's the longest you've gone without sleep?
Bawbag. A good wee Scottish word, and versatile, too. The most used meaning, is derogatory. Basically, you're calling someone a scrotum. Its original meaning was a bag where you kept footballs (soccer balls). Can also be spelled ba'bag, the apostrophe denoting the lack of "ll", but I prefer the first one. There was even a storm named after it "Hurricane Bawbag". Yes, Scots are a strange and eccentric nation.
Washington! Hell, if I had unlimited teleports, I'd make a few round trips, bringing my stuff with me each time, ready for the big relocation.
What do you want?
Probably The Worst Limerick Ever
There was a young man called Nick,
who had a really big brick,
he built a house,
just for a mouse,
who named himself Mick.
So, Mick was a mouse,
who lived in a house,
built by Nick
who had a brick,
but where was the grouse?
Well, the grouse
had his own house,
made from feathers
and leathers
of a certain wee mouse.
So, Nick
with his brick,
built a house for a mouse,
who was eaten by a grouse,
who. for the mouse was too quick.
There was a young lady,
who slayed me.
A Slayer she was
and she kicked my baws,
but at least I wasn't flayed-ed.
[If you've seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer, you'll know that all the language in this limerick has been used at least once on the show. Just trying to be in-keeping with Joss Whedon's style... Difficult because it really is inimitable.]
A guy from Glasgow, prefers limerick to haiku,
but what is he to do?
His haiku are often crap,
but his limericks are also pap.
Here's hoping people don't sue.
When I look up, I fall over, 'cause I'm special.
Do you remember doing the Time Warp?
I'd like to contribute, but I suck at limericks. Can't quite get them around my head, but they are fun to read.
Could be a bunch of reasons. If it's the internet that's slow, the problem is that people are a global epidemic. If it's the phone in general, then it might be that you've got shiteload of apps installed, something is eating loadsa memory, you have a virus, you have a bug, it might need restarted... The list just goes on and on. In short, I dunno, but there's always a bunch of different things you can do to try and figure it out. Jut make up a list, try and learn what works. Holy cow, I don't half ramble!
Can you hunk a hunk? And if you can hunk a hunk, will you hunkadola with me?
These are the crosses I must bear.
There's a bear with a cross,
I think he's Christian.
I'm tipsy.
Nothing's truly dark, apart from the park, especially when you're naked and having a lark.
Did you have a good Christmas? (Or are you having a good Christmas?)
Merry Christmas, bawbagz,
I hope you can read your Christmas tagz,
My handwriting's atrocious,
so don't be ferocious,
if your tags are illegible,
just be a vegetable!
Note for those who don't know me: This is supposed to be humorous. Laugh or don't laugh, just laugh!
Simple, really: Just state your word of the day. Pick a word, any word, obscure or not. Modern or archaic. Just remember to explain why it's the word of the day, and what it means.
My word is immolation. The reason for this is because it is a word that makes me laugh, though killing something with fire ain't funny, the word itself is.
I'm saying a poem,
As I sit here at the end,
Dunno what it says,
But I'm gonna send
Y'all to Coventry.
I hear that place ain't nice.
This poem sucks,
As do I.
TMI?
Oh well.
Would it be wrong to wish for £20 million? I don't care, I'm wishing for it, anyway.
None that are crippling. I mean, I'm afraid of wasps, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna scream and run out of the room like a wee jessie, every time I see a wasp. I'm strong enough to be able to go and deal with it. I suppose, though, the worst one, is that I'll end up loveless. I know it ain't gonna happen, 'cause I have Aria forever, but it's still a phobia.
When I go to think of a question, the first thing on my mind is always something perverted. I wonder why that is?
I love Captain Mal Reynolds.
