Skip to main content

Sauce: Peeved - A Ditty.

Hello world, welcome to the dumbest thing I’ve ever written.  It helps if you sing it with gusto.  (Hint: UIKEYINPUTDOWNARROWgive “favorite” and “chocolate” three syllables.)
Dun dun dun...

...If you’d rather eat spaghetti 
With butter,
And if petting armadillos makes your bitty heart flutter,
If you wear twenty-three inch plugs 
And you snack on creepy bugs,
And you turn off the radio before 
Your very favorite song ends,
If you dance to rapping only 
And you never just be lonely,
Then I think we cannot ever quite be friends.
 
If you like to play the tuba
And get thrills at going scuba
Diving with a pack of grumbly-tumbly sharks,
If you stick Q-tips up your nose 
And knit socks for all your toes
And deface all the bathrooms in the parks,
If you get joy from picking peanuts 
Out from every tin of mixed nuts
And don’t laugh at jokes that center on Depends,
If you run away from cats
And feed chocolate to bats,
Then I don’t think we can ever quite be friends.  
(Why am I sharing this with the worldddd.....?????)

Comments

  1. The Lasagna July 7, 2019 at 2:44 PM

    So, there’s a little accident in this post. I’d call it a typo but I’m pretty sure it’s not my fault. If you can spot it I’ll make you a bumper sticker of whatever you want. For realsies.

    ReplyDelete
  2. UnknownJuly 9, 2019 at 9:37 PM

    UIKEYINPUTDOWNARROW

    ReplyDelete
  3. The Lasagna July 10, 2019 at 4:20 PM

    You win a bumper sticker! Who are you? If you know me, shoot me an email. Otherwise, use the cute little comment form at the bottom of this page and send me your address. I promise I won’t come kill you in your sleep.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Noodles: It’s autumn, all of you.

Hi world.  It’s me, your favorite super sheltered, extremely Scandinavian, strangely endearing pile of soggy, tomato-drenched crinkly noodles! Otherwise known as Baby Swedish Lasagna under an Inadequate Tent. The reason I bring up my origins is this: I grew up without hearing anyone say “y’all”.  I believe the contraction never crossed my path outside of a book until middle school, when it became trendy among my equally sheltered, pale-skinned friends. I started saying it often, with little understanding of its pronunciation, spelling, or proper usage. At some point, perhaps in a fit of cultural sensitivity, maybe after the madness of middle school had seeped out of my neurons, I stopped using it. Except in emails. Yes, my friends, I am an email y’aller.  It just works for the already-awkward group conversations.  There’s honestly no equivalent in northern dialect.  Check it out. “You guys.”  Offensive to feminists. “You girls.”  Offensive...
4 comments
Read more

Noodles: Just another downside of being a genius.

Since I’ve got a pretty long post in store for you a little later this week (and yeah, it’s Saturday, I know...so that means in about five minutes), I’m gonna make this quick and just share with you one of my finer moments.  Possibly the most brilliant highlight of my entire career as a human, if I may say so.   Recently I was trying to center a picture on what was supposed to be today’s post.  Suddenly, my cursor...is that what the little vertical blinky line is called?  If it is, wow, what an intense name for such an innocent little thingy.  Anyway, you all know what I mean.  We’ll just call it the cursor and hope for the best.  Kay.  So, my cursor started moving.  It was traveling across the page all alone!  It had a mind of its own!  Because I’m super suspicious, my first thought was that someone had hacked my computer, since I was in a pretty crowded public place.  There were some nerdy guys in the corner who looked cap...
Post a Comment
Read more

Noodles: A lovelie story.

I learned how to lie when I was seven years old.  There was a boy in my class who I hated. I’m not a name dropper, so I’ll just call him...“Jeremy”.   “Seven years old!” You say, aghast, “and you already hated someone?   Whatever for?”   I’d love to give you a great answer, but it was probably for a very inconsequential reason.   Possibly because he’d apparently made it his goal to throw a huge ball straight at my curly side-lined head every time all the kids except me played dodgeball (I remember sitting to the side and trying to convince teachers that no, I really did not feel left out, and no, joining the game would not make me feel better).    Or maybe it was because he liked to dip goldfish crackers in Koolaid.    Or maybe I took a random dislike to his haircut.    Whatever reason, just trust me.   I really hated this kid.    He made my upper epidermal layer do unnatural things, like crawl.   ...
1 comment
Read more