Monday, May 12, 2014
Funny Phil
A man named Funny Lookin' Phil grew up with an unique proportioned body and an odd sense of style. Phil inherited a tall sternum and short legs, and always so curious why God blessed him with such bald legs. Waiting til he could function properly, he started his morning routine. While talking non stop to himself, Phil would be busy curling his rainbow armpit hair. Phil then practiced his lady skills thinking experience in that field occurred in his life, but his shyness always caught up to him. Fixing his hair made him tiresome, so Phil became distracted and would stroke his long, blonde beard. After looking at himself in the mirror for almost 30 minutes, he couldn't help but to be picky. He put his hair up in a pony tail. Phil quickly jerked the pony tail out of his hair. Putting his hair up would emphasize his big ears and nose. Confused as to why he couldn't look handsome, Phil informed himself every morning that he was an amazing guy inside and out. The very last thing he did was put in his colored contacts. He had always hated his brown eyes, so he finally purchased contacts to make his eyes look blue.
The First Move...
morose- the sadness that can touch your soul.
literally- the actual fact of reality.
epicosity- filled or coated entirely of.
begeezus- used to describe excitement or fright.
fail- unsuccessful.
butter-color.
knockered- complete, total, and uter
wonky- a bit off.
bubbles- surf bubbles between my toes.
furgo- my philosophy of life (do it myself).
cool beans- phrase to describe interest in one's story.
whatevs- whatever.
scrumdoodleyumpshis- yummy or delicious.
lovely- to describe something gross.
reese- the rare language that is used between a group of close friends.
shindig- a party.
yellow- used to say hello.
pooped- exhausted.
turnt up- phrase used to describe how overly pumped up or excited someone is.
honey bun- cute nickname for pet or person.
leggo- let's go.
er mer gersh- another way of saying oh my gosh.
rerax- how the Chinese say relax.
for realz- agreeing with another.
frolic- run
I will always remember the day I made the first move on my crush. It feels like it was just yesterday. I guess you could say I was the wonky creeper that everyone knew in school; intently gazing at people from across the classroom and never looking away when awkward eye contact became overpowering. After staying up the night before, trying to decide how to ask my high school crush to the shindig, I came up with, nothing. How could you when you're busy picking out the perfect outfit for the next day? My friends gave their opinions and ideas, but could barely understand them from all the reese they were speaking. I quickly turned furgo after thinking about the sequence of events that would quickly follow from listening to them.
The next morning I woke up 15 minutes late, which meant I was given only an hour and forty-five minutes left to get ready. That 15 minutes literally ruined my life. I scrambled frantically around the house to gather the items needed to mend my unruly appearance. For the majority of that morning I was occupied by tending to my bubbles. Realizing what time it was, I squawked, "ER MER GERSH!" I slipped my flip flops over my newly polish toes and frolicked out the door.
By the time I arrived to school, I couldn't help but to feel pooped from trying to get ready in that amount of time. Suddenly, I spotted him. There I stood, about ten feet away from my scrumdoodleyumpshis crush. His pure epicosity shined brighter than a light being turned on to rudely awaken someone from a deep slumber. An overwhelming excitement slapped me upside the dome and I became turnt up. Everything was going to be perfect, or so I thought. I reached into my luggage bag of a purse and whipped out a mirror to make sure there were no bats in the cave. My excitement hastened out of my system as if it were being chased my mane. I had forgotten to fix my hair!
There was only one word that could describe that creature upon my head; lovely. The feeling of morose drowned me in all of it's sorrow. What was I suppose to do? I stood there helplessly, but then I thought to myself, "Even though he's never really known of my existence or has the same feelings toward me, maybe he wouldn't care what my mop looked like, and he would fall in love with me anyway." I stirred up some confidence and shouted, "LEGGO" obnoxiously as if it were a battle cry.
I fluffed my butter colored dress and walked towards him; accelerating after each step. Breaking his wolf pack wall around him, I came to a screeching halt. It occurred to me that I was observing his back, so to get his attention, I decided to play it cool and start off with saying, "Yellow." He turned around to find me, with hair comparing to Farrah Fawcett and Medusa; licking my braces with left over cuisine from last night while making my unibrow do the worm. It was probably the best talent I had acquired back then. "BEGEEZUS," he squealed, "What are you?" "I'm your honey bun," I proclaimed; laughing as if he didn't know already.
His posy appeared to be covering their mouths while acquiring red faced and teary eyes. Ignoring them, I finally brought up the shindig. He told me that would never happen. I had a feeling that he was playing hard to get and was trying to hide his feelings from his friends, so I rapped my arms around him and whispered in his ear, "You don't have to pretend anymore."
With his face becoming lovelier by the second, he pealed me off of him and pushed me away. Feeling outraged, I started to stomp off with my nose held high; thinking to myself, “Whatevs!” Little did I know there was a random You need tainted in here somewhere.
literally- the actual fact of reality.
epicosity- filled or coated entirely of.
begeezus- used to describe excitement or fright.
fail- unsuccessful.
butter-color.
knockered- complete, total, and uter
wonky- a bit off.
bubbles- surf bubbles between my toes.
furgo- my philosophy of life (do it myself).
cool beans- phrase to describe interest in one's story.
whatevs- whatever.
scrumdoodleyumpshis- yummy or delicious.
lovely- to describe something gross.
reese- the rare language that is used between a group of close friends.
shindig- a party.
yellow- used to say hello.
pooped- exhausted.
turnt up- phrase used to describe how overly pumped up or excited someone is.
honey bun- cute nickname for pet or person.
leggo- let's go.
er mer gersh- another way of saying oh my gosh.
rerax- how the Chinese say relax.
for realz- agreeing with another.
frolic- run
I will always remember the day I made the first move on my crush. It feels like it was just yesterday. I guess you could say I was the wonky creeper that everyone knew in school; intently gazing at people from across the classroom and never looking away when awkward eye contact became overpowering. After staying up the night before, trying to decide how to ask my high school crush to the shindig, I came up with, nothing. How could you when you're busy picking out the perfect outfit for the next day? My friends gave their opinions and ideas, but could barely understand them from all the reese they were speaking. I quickly turned furgo after thinking about the sequence of events that would quickly follow from listening to them.
The next morning I woke up 15 minutes late, which meant I was given only an hour and forty-five minutes left to get ready. That 15 minutes literally ruined my life. I scrambled frantically around the house to gather the items needed to mend my unruly appearance. For the majority of that morning I was occupied by tending to my bubbles. Realizing what time it was, I squawked, "ER MER GERSH!" I slipped my flip flops over my newly polish toes and frolicked out the door.
By the time I arrived to school, I couldn't help but to feel pooped from trying to get ready in that amount of time. Suddenly, I spotted him. There I stood, about ten feet away from my scrumdoodleyumpshis crush. His pure epicosity shined brighter than a light being turned on to rudely awaken someone from a deep slumber. An overwhelming excitement slapped me upside the dome and I became turnt up. Everything was going to be perfect, or so I thought. I reached into my luggage bag of a purse and whipped out a mirror to make sure there were no bats in the cave. My excitement hastened out of my system as if it were being chased my mane. I had forgotten to fix my hair!
There was only one word that could describe that creature upon my head; lovely. The feeling of morose drowned me in all of it's sorrow. What was I suppose to do? I stood there helplessly, but then I thought to myself, "Even though he's never really known of my existence or has the same feelings toward me, maybe he wouldn't care what my mop looked like, and he would fall in love with me anyway." I stirred up some confidence and shouted, "LEGGO" obnoxiously as if it were a battle cry.
I fluffed my butter colored dress and walked towards him; accelerating after each step. Breaking his wolf pack wall around him, I came to a screeching halt. It occurred to me that I was observing his back, so to get his attention, I decided to play it cool and start off with saying, "Yellow." He turned around to find me, with hair comparing to Farrah Fawcett and Medusa; licking my braces with left over cuisine from last night while making my unibrow do the worm. It was probably the best talent I had acquired back then. "BEGEEZUS," he squealed, "What are you?" "I'm your honey bun," I proclaimed; laughing as if he didn't know already.
His posy appeared to be covering their mouths while acquiring red faced and teary eyes. Ignoring them, I finally brought up the shindig. He told me that would never happen. I had a feeling that he was playing hard to get and was trying to hide his feelings from his friends, so I rapped my arms around him and whispered in his ear, "You don't have to pretend anymore."
With his face becoming lovelier by the second, he pealed me off of him and pushed me away. Feeling outraged, I started to stomp off with my nose held high; thinking to myself, “Whatevs!” Little did I know there was a random You need tainted in here somewhere.
Image
It looks like there are 3 lost camilions. They look puzzled as the swarm around what appears to be some sort of sky blue feather. Walking a across Christmas wrapping paper, they quickly tried blending in. The camileons then realized they were about to become a present for some overexcited child.
As of right now, I would do anything to be back in Columbia right now; painting on my battle face as I get pumped to obnoxiously cheer on my sister and the girl's basketball team. While chanting and stomping my feet to make sure my presence was known.
Columbia has beauty of it's own. People politely greeting was you walk by downtown as they lick their dripping ice cream from the burning rays of the sun light.
A swift breeze hugs you with a delightful smell of steak. As you wonder closer you can feel your mouth begin to break out into tears as your nose smells the garlic potatoes. As you begin to walk across the street you feel a cool breeze coming from an ice cream store. The different smells lure you in like a worm does a bass.
Multiple antique and clothing stores surround you at the square. Just the touch of a cotton v-neck laying on the front table would make you want to curl up and sleep. The old antique couches sit there looking historic and modern, but quickly becomes unbearably hard and uncomfortable after you plop yourself into it.
A sound of a soft fiddle begins to play from around the corner. As you walk closer it begins to sing louder. The poor man and his sad fiddle play for paper which soon become a bag of convenient store chips. The song quickly becomes a story of his life without words. It started out so cheerful as if it reminded him of the days as a little boy. He then began to play sad song for he didn't really have a life after a child. Perhaps his family members had left or passed leaving him to defend for himself.
While awaiting your food at the famous downtown cafe, you immediately spot your thick, juicy cheeseburger. As it stares you, the burger begins to taunt you while waiting for the others food arrives. As the last plate is sat down, I quickly picked my burger and took the biggest bite known to man. Starving made the burger more delicious with its perfectly melted cheese and condiments.
While walking through downtown, wasting time til the big game, we had come across a couple of Mizzuo college frat boys. All dress the same with their plad khaki shorts and white quarter-sleeved button-up polos, they took eye to me. I'm pretty sure they could smell the awkwardness because they began to walk off, or it was because they knew they weren't as good looking as they thought they were. My friends and I had came upon a cute little graphic design store. The perfect t-shirt idea swarmed my brain.
Columbia has beauty of it's own. People politely greeting was you walk by downtown as they lick their dripping ice cream from the burning rays of the sun light.
A swift breeze hugs you with a delightful smell of steak. As you wonder closer you can feel your mouth begin to break out into tears as your nose smells the garlic potatoes. As you begin to walk across the street you feel a cool breeze coming from an ice cream store. The different smells lure you in like a worm does a bass.
Multiple antique and clothing stores surround you at the square. Just the touch of a cotton v-neck laying on the front table would make you want to curl up and sleep. The old antique couches sit there looking historic and modern, but quickly becomes unbearably hard and uncomfortable after you plop yourself into it.
A sound of a soft fiddle begins to play from around the corner. As you walk closer it begins to sing louder. The poor man and his sad fiddle play for paper which soon become a bag of convenient store chips. The song quickly becomes a story of his life without words. It started out so cheerful as if it reminded him of the days as a little boy. He then began to play sad song for he didn't really have a life after a child. Perhaps his family members had left or passed leaving him to defend for himself.
While awaiting your food at the famous downtown cafe, you immediately spot your thick, juicy cheeseburger. As it stares you, the burger begins to taunt you while waiting for the others food arrives. As the last plate is sat down, I quickly picked my burger and took the biggest bite known to man. Starving made the burger more delicious with its perfectly melted cheese and condiments.
While walking through downtown, wasting time til the big game, we had come across a couple of Mizzuo college frat boys. All dress the same with their plad khaki shorts and white quarter-sleeved button-up polos, they took eye to me. I'm pretty sure they could smell the awkwardness because they began to walk off, or it was because they knew they weren't as good looking as they thought they were. My friends and I had came upon a cute little graphic design store. The perfect t-shirt idea swarmed my brain.
My dad kindly lays out the dull uncooked steaks in front of me. "Beat
them." With one brow raised, I stared at him for the longest time with a confused but soon to be horrified look. "You really want me to hit the
steaks?" "Uh, yeah, it makes the steak extra tender." I begin to barely hit the
cold pieces of the cow spread across the kitchen counter. "Hit them harder. No, harder! Put your back into it!" I soon began to feel as if I were playing a solo in a hardcore heavy metal band. The room became completely dark making me feel like I'm the only band member present; beating the soundless drums again and again.
After ending on a good smash, the lights instantly came back on and there stood my dad with the same look I gave him before I had started this madness. While peering into his soul with my crazy, over dilated pupils, I stood there heavily breathing as if I were a fat kid chasing after a warm, frosted doughnut, waiting for his approval. A moment of silence crept over the room. "I'm never cooking steak with you again, you're freaking me out..."
My then dad frolics to the pantry, looks at me, and whispers, "This is my favorite part." He brought back his own steak seasoning concoction, cradling it like a new born baby. "Sprinkle this very lightly, Em. You don't want to ruin the steak." I took a pinch of the seasoning, sprinkling it very slowing over the lifeless meat. Mean while, the grill had been waiting for us to drop the steaks into its charcoal infested mouth. "Patience is the key when it comes to making the perfect steak."
Instead of flipping them over every 10 minutes or, he had flip them within 2 minutes; making each side equally cooked and tasty. My arm felt like it could fall off and crawl away from the abuse of flipping the steaks so often. In the middle of the grilling, he brings out margarine so that I can slowly butter up each side of the steaks to make them juicy. The smell smothers your nose. Standing there flipping the steaks, my mouth begins to water. Not too much long after that stage, the steaks are at a perfect medium well. By then, my mouth became Niagara falls. Now, the moment of truth. My taste buds were about to become the judges of an amazing steak that I cooked all by myself.
I pick up my knife and cut into the tender cow slice. I gradually swirl it around in my dad's famous, loaded garlic mashed potatoes. I took a deep breathe and went for it. As soon as the deliciousness reached my tongue, I was in heaven. My taste buds were drowning in pleasure and desire. An overwhelming confidence came across me as I watched my family eat the steaks that I had cooked all by myself just for them. I was in a state of bliss. I finally did it. My dad turned to me and pat me on the back, "Good job sis, now we know that there's something you CAN cook besides pizza rolls."
After ending on a good smash, the lights instantly came back on and there stood my dad with the same look I gave him before I had started this madness. While peering into his soul with my crazy, over dilated pupils, I stood there heavily breathing as if I were a fat kid chasing after a warm, frosted doughnut, waiting for his approval. A moment of silence crept over the room. "I'm never cooking steak with you again, you're freaking me out..."
My then dad frolics to the pantry, looks at me, and whispers, "This is my favorite part." He brought back his own steak seasoning concoction, cradling it like a new born baby. "Sprinkle this very lightly, Em. You don't want to ruin the steak." I took a pinch of the seasoning, sprinkling it very slowing over the lifeless meat. Mean while, the grill had been waiting for us to drop the steaks into its charcoal infested mouth. "Patience is the key when it comes to making the perfect steak."
Instead of flipping them over every 10 minutes or, he had flip them within 2 minutes; making each side equally cooked and tasty. My arm felt like it could fall off and crawl away from the abuse of flipping the steaks so often. In the middle of the grilling, he brings out margarine so that I can slowly butter up each side of the steaks to make them juicy. The smell smothers your nose. Standing there flipping the steaks, my mouth begins to water. Not too much long after that stage, the steaks are at a perfect medium well. By then, my mouth became Niagara falls. Now, the moment of truth. My taste buds were about to become the judges of an amazing steak that I cooked all by myself.
I pick up my knife and cut into the tender cow slice. I gradually swirl it around in my dad's famous, loaded garlic mashed potatoes. I took a deep breathe and went for it. As soon as the deliciousness reached my tongue, I was in heaven. My taste buds were drowning in pleasure and desire. An overwhelming confidence came across me as I watched my family eat the steaks that I had cooked all by myself just for them. I was in a state of bliss. I finally did it. My dad turned to me and pat me on the back, "Good job sis, now we know that there's something you CAN cook besides pizza rolls."
Neon Jungle
I can faintly hear Nashville calling my name back to where I truly belong; all the beautiful voices and instruments singing joyfully in the untamed streets. During the day, you can barely walk through the groups of people starving for a pinch of fame. A mixture of BO and beer crawl up your nose and camp out for the majority of the day. Wide-eyed tourists flock every store and restaurant until they have used up the last bit of daylight. Before you know it, night creeps over the sleepless city. Flashing neon lights begin to brighten up the dark streets; letting everyone know the party has just begun. Soon, different genres and instruments overwhelm your ears; making it hard to decide which one to listen to first.
Walking from store to store, you realize there are none that have comparisons. Each store is unique; a work of art in Nashville's eyes. The different memories run through your mind as your finger-tips breeze through the different materials in the clothing stores; some good and others bad. The feel of a soft button-up shirt reminded me of my grandpa before he passed. How he would always pick me up and throw me over his shoulder with the biggest smile God had ever created; like he didn't have a care in the world or that he didn't have a single tumor in his body... Your stomach starts it's mating call; letting the helpless food know, "I'm coming for you." At that moment the question is popped. "Where should we eat?" If you have been asked that question while in Nashville, you know it's more stressful than picking out what boots and dress to wear for that evening.
By that time the beer and bo had passed and all you could smell was the warm, tender steak being grilled two long blocks down, or the freshly made fudge sitting out as a quick little pick me up for the late night tourists. Sounds of fruity beverages being shaken or stirred for the restless and stressed. This city is the neon jungle. Everyday is a constant battle to try and make something out of yourself here. Some are victorious and others keep trying day after day. The reasoning why I'd rather be here is not just because of the food, music, attractions, or shopping. It brings be happiness and motivation. My grandpa had a passion for music as do I, but while watching a guitar player sit on the concrete and make something more than just music, motivation slaps me up side of the head. It reminds me my grandpa dreamed about me going and doing something big with my life; whether it be scrunching music in my daily life or music every single second of the day.
Walking from store to store, you realize there are none that have comparisons. Each store is unique; a work of art in Nashville's eyes. The different memories run through your mind as your finger-tips breeze through the different materials in the clothing stores; some good and others bad. The feel of a soft button-up shirt reminded me of my grandpa before he passed. How he would always pick me up and throw me over his shoulder with the biggest smile God had ever created; like he didn't have a care in the world or that he didn't have a single tumor in his body... Your stomach starts it's mating call; letting the helpless food know, "I'm coming for you." At that moment the question is popped. "Where should we eat?" If you have been asked that question while in Nashville, you know it's more stressful than picking out what boots and dress to wear for that evening.
By that time the beer and bo had passed and all you could smell was the warm, tender steak being grilled two long blocks down, or the freshly made fudge sitting out as a quick little pick me up for the late night tourists. Sounds of fruity beverages being shaken or stirred for the restless and stressed. This city is the neon jungle. Everyday is a constant battle to try and make something out of yourself here. Some are victorious and others keep trying day after day. The reasoning why I'd rather be here is not just because of the food, music, attractions, or shopping. It brings be happiness and motivation. My grandpa had a passion for music as do I, but while watching a guitar player sit on the concrete and make something more than just music, motivation slaps me up side of the head. It reminds me my grandpa dreamed about me going and doing something big with my life; whether it be scrunching music in my daily life or music every single second of the day.
I will never do that again..
Never will I ever sneak out of the house ever again! That was probably the worst decision I had ever made. As soon as I realized I would never get caught, it became a habit. I would sneak out and do crazy stuff with my friends, but that soon came back to haunt me. My dad has his room upstairs and so did my sister. I was the only one with a room downstairs right next to the laundry room. The laundry room had a door that led out to the side porch, and it just so happens that the motion light to the garage was broken. So it became a twice a week thing.
Flying down the road in her little red convertible, she let her sun colored hair be free. She was eventually pulled over for going to fast. A cop had asked for her drivers license. Being that the lady had never been pulled over, she asked the cop what it looked like. The cop explained it was square with your picture on it. The lady quickly reached into her purse and pulled out a mirror.
The toddler let out a screeching wail. Suddenly the room became quiet as the child's face turned into a cherry red tomato. Alligator tears covered the his face letting the mom know he was dehydrated.
My dad lays out all of the dull uncooked steaks in front of me. "Hit them." I looked at him like he was crazy. "You really want me to hit the steaks?" I guess I haven't really watched my dad cook steaks before, but I know now that he has some odd........... I begin to hit the cold cold pieces of the cow spread across the kitchen counter. He bring out his special concoction used to sprinkle over the steaks. You can't sprinkle too much or the steaks will be ruined. Just a pinch is all you need. Mean while, the grill had been waiting for us to drop the juicy steaks into its charcoal infested mouth. Patience is the key when it comes to making the perfect steak. Instead of flipping it over every 10 minutes, he flips it within 2 minutes; making each side equally cooked and tasty. In the middle of the grilling the cow pieces, he brings out margarine butter and slowly butters each side of the steak. The smell overwhelms your nose and mouth. Standing there flipping the steaks, My mouth begins to water. Not too much longer the steaks are done and by then my mouth became Niagara falls. Now the moment of truth. My taste buds were the judges of an amazing steak that I cooked all by myself.
Flying down the road in her little red convertible, she let her sun colored hair be free. She was eventually pulled over for going to fast. A cop had asked for her drivers license. Being that the lady had never been pulled over, she asked the cop what it looked like. The cop explained it was square with your picture on it. The lady quickly reached into her purse and pulled out a mirror.
The toddler let out a screeching wail. Suddenly the room became quiet as the child's face turned into a cherry red tomato. Alligator tears covered the his face letting the mom know he was dehydrated.
My dad lays out all of the dull uncooked steaks in front of me. "Hit them." I looked at him like he was crazy. "You really want me to hit the steaks?" I guess I haven't really watched my dad cook steaks before, but I know now that he has some odd........... I begin to hit the cold cold pieces of the cow spread across the kitchen counter. He bring out his special concoction used to sprinkle over the steaks. You can't sprinkle too much or the steaks will be ruined. Just a pinch is all you need. Mean while, the grill had been waiting for us to drop the juicy steaks into its charcoal infested mouth. Patience is the key when it comes to making the perfect steak. Instead of flipping it over every 10 minutes, he flips it within 2 minutes; making each side equally cooked and tasty. In the middle of the grilling the cow pieces, he brings out margarine butter and slowly butters each side of the steak. The smell overwhelms your nose and mouth. Standing there flipping the steaks, My mouth begins to water. Not too much longer the steaks are done and by then my mouth became Niagara falls. Now the moment of truth. My taste buds were the judges of an amazing steak that I cooked all by myself.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)