Category Archives: laughter

selfie

So as we all know, last year was the year of the selfie. See the following from the Oxford Dictionary:

selfie

NOUN (PLURAL SELFIES) • informal

  • a photograph that one has taken of oneself, typically one taken with a smartphone or webcam and uploaded to a social media website: occasional selfies are acceptable, but posting a new picture of yourself every day isn’t necessary

Origin

early 21st century: from self + -ie.

I just want to know why now? I mean, I have proof that people have been taking selfies for at least nine years now. It may not have been taken with a smart phone, but I present to you the vintage selfie:

vintage selfie

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Hannah’s Chuppdate (age six)

From the always excellent archives, a letter I wrote to family and friends at the tender age of six. Enjoy my superb spelling and creative punctuation.

This is Hannah. it is my BirthDay Number Six ! .I am exsited !aren’t you to ?Well I am! Rejoice in the Lord always!we ALL! love all of you !. Here is some about me (Hannah)

THINGS I LIKE TO DO…

PLAY BALL
SWING (At PlayGrounds)
SLIDE
CLIMB TREES
READ BOOKS (Very Much Evan Big Ones!)
WORK ON THE COMPUTER!

Things I don’t like…

cleaningup
folding
thunder
broccoli

my favrite foods and season and why?

SEASON:summer
swimming

FOOD:spaghetti
pesto

Things I want to do while I’m six…

Learn to swim
Learn to ride a bike
Learn to play gatar
Learn to play piano

what I think about my DAD… he is…,speisal,happy,funny and loveable
MOM….she is…MY MOM!
PETER…he is…FUNNY!

My favrite things to do at SCOOL…

Corispondense
math

Here is a poem I wrote about hugs:

Hug’s Don’t Evaporate

Hug’s don’t evaporate
that is true.
When we say: Mama I’ve got a booboo!
that’s when we need a hug!

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A bit on writing, and then a few jokes.

I was editing a news release today and had to come up with a bit more filler copy, but I had some really ridiculous jumble of phrases running around in my head, phrases that would sound completely absurd in a news brief. I’m pretty sure the words “tutelage” was there, and maybe “adulation.”

Stop being idiotic, I told myself, and write a proper sentence like a grownup.

But seriously, these words wouldn’t leave. So I grudgingly wrote them down (with a pen, on a piece of paper – it’s how I write best), and realized that I had, in essence, freed myself. I’d appeased the beast of my imagination by writing down what it gave me, and when I did, it offered more and more until finally I had written something worth reading.

It was a good reminder to keep on writing on, through the cruddiest bits, until something good somehow appears.

 

And finally, some jokes.

My favorite childhood joke:

What did the man say when he sat on a pin?

NothingIt was a safety pin.

A joke that only makes sense to Texans:

Why did the chicken cross the road?

To show the armadillo that it can be done.

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In Which Skiles and Hannah Assess England’s Psychological Health through Dancing

In doing research on the Kinetic Family Drawing for my Psychological Assessment class, the world’s largest library catalog sprung this glorious surprise on me:

Dear Skiles Howard, I want to meet you

The Politics of Courtly Dancing in Early Modern England by Skiles Howard.

Hey, thanks.

I have a multitude of thoughts on this.

  1. [the obvious] WHAT EVEN THE HECK. How does this relate to my search for psychological assessments? (I also got results for a book about Mickey Mantle and one about Gas Service Technology.)
  2. I need to inter-library loan this book and find some obscure way to incorporate it into my paper.
  3. This is an extremely specific tome.
    • Courtly dancing does not seem to be an expansive field for research. Oh, but you are much mistaken. Sorry, then. So not only must we deal with courtly dancing, but the interpersonal intricacies found therein.
    • Can this courtly dancing and its politics have occurred anywhere in the world? No, I dare say, most emphatically notPerhaps we shall narrow our scope to the European front? Never. This is heresy you speak. Let’s pick England, then.
    • Surely one book would suffice for an exhaustive history of such elite dancing wars. I can’t believe you and your simple mind. Know you nothing of the politics of courtly dancing? Apparently not. Shall we then restrict this treatise to the modern period in England? No. There is too much to say. How about the middle of said modern period? Ah, you jest. I don’t even know what’s going on anymore. What do you think of Early Modern England? All 222 pages support this final thesis of yours. And to whom am I speaking? Hello?
  4. What the heck I don’t even understand.

I just have to include the Amazon summary.

Scholar Skiles Howard examines the social and semiotic complexities of dance in Renaissance England as it changed over time and performed different work in court, city, and playhouse. Interdisciplinary in its approach, this well-researched study explores issues of power and the body, gender and rank, popular culture and European expansion.

Dearest scholar Skiles Howard of the University of Massachusetts, how narrow and impractical are your erudite pursuits.

However, do congratulate your parents on the brilliant first name with which they endowed you.

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From the As-Yet Unpublished Archives

This post is dedicated to two excellent individuals. First, to Mr. Nathan Biberdorf, who actually reads my blog. Second, to Ms. Sylvia Daire, who composed this excellent piece with me over four years ago. Something reminded me of it, so I thought I’d post it, mostly for no good reason.

A Ten-Second-Long Discourse on Peas
by Fenton McKnight and Sylvia Daire

Ew peas.
Ew texture.
Ew taste.
Too sweet.
Yes.
Texture mushy.
Yes.

And now that you’ve been sufficiently enlightened and bestowed with knowledge, good night!

Bad Idea #473

….Considering using the clothesline as a zip line.

And, to counter this bad idea (which I didn’t actually carry out, by the way), a good idea, some gratitudinal thinking:

#37 – Evidence of the Spirit working in my heart.

#38 – Knowledgeable doctors

Aspirations

Hannah sits at the piano, quietly … no, never. Not quietly. Not Hannah. Let’s start over.

Hannah sits at the piano, plinkering away to herself. (Just because she’s plinkering to herself doesn’t mean it’s quiet.) Many pages of these three hymnals have been witness to her peering eyes, thumbing … well … thumbs, and that claw-like system that keeps the pages to where she can see them.

She announces to the world (and to her mother in particular) the reason for the awkward harmonies her out-of-use hands have contrived at the expense of the well-worn keys. (It seems to be along the lines of her declaration at a young age: “Mom, I will do gymnastics, and you will clap.” Maybe the following words, like her former proclamation, will be prophetic.)

“When I am 75, I will be that old lady leading a small country church in worship. That’s why I’m playing all these hymns now. I’ll have years of practice.”

Her mother is unfazed and unconvinced. “It’ll have to be a very small church…”

a “my mom” joke.

Peter, reading camera: No valid picture to play.

Hannah: You’re not a valid picture to play.

Peter: Your mom’s not a valid picture to play.

Mom: I am so!!