tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33396538438418270582024-03-12T23:55:52.227-07:00My Girlfriend's MouthFlapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-64971579255978031782012-11-01T14:58:00.001-07:002012-11-01T14:58:46.117-07:00What kind of seizure? <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Man, has it been a while. Not for lack of material. No, the girlfriend's mouth keeps on keepin' on. It's just me and my laziness. <br />
<br />
Well, I suppose I'm going to dust this off and give it another whirl. There's been too much quality content being produced and enough public outcry that I really do need to get back to it. <br />
<br />
So, without further ado...<br />
<br />
This morning, Brae and I were lying in bed going through our usual rituals of rehashing our dreams and playing with our dog. (Oh, we got a dog since I last posted. Senator Edward M. Kennedy. We call him Teddy to his face. He just turned 1. He's awesome. I digress.) <br />
<br />
Brae usually delivers A material in the morning. Something about that twilight time finds gets the mouth firing on all cylinders. She often fires off with some truly random absurdist gems, and this morning was gold. <br />
<br />
With an exclamatory tone somewhere between Ron Burgundy and Flo telling Mel to kiss her grits she suddenly announced "GRANDMA SEIZURE!" <br />
<br />
After a moment of bewildered laughter she hauled off with another: "EPCOT CENTER ON THE BAYOU!" <br />
<br />
I think these are going to replace "Christ on a Crutch!" and "Merlin's Beard!" as my go-to exclamations from here on out. </div>
Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-76633003944004575672010-09-20T13:59:00.000-07:002010-09-20T14:07:58.343-07:00As best as he can.Brae and I were sitting in our apartment listening to the sound of major renovations going on in an apartment 2 floors below. <br /><br />"They're really going at it," I said. "Did you see how much work they're doing? The place is completely torn apart."<br /><br />Brae replied, "oh yeah, they had infestus down there."<br /><br />"What?"<br /><br />"Um, what is it? Infestu...."<br /><br />"An infestation?" <br /><br />"No, what's that stuff called? They had to remove the, uh, in..festus?"<br /><br />"Oh, you mean asbestos?" <br /><br />"Uh, yeah. Oh, that actually sounds nice. 'Asbestos he can!"Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-18340637034465764942010-08-22T16:22:00.000-07:002010-08-22T16:27:16.100-07:00This requires no comment from me:<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ilvG7qO17HM?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ilvG7qO17HM?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-54615484531480915362010-08-04T09:31:00.001-07:002010-08-04T09:33:42.334-07:00My First RetractionI think my last post deserves a retraction of sorts. It seems that there actually is a Beastie Boys song with lyrics about buying Ale."<br /><br />I, of course, was thinking of the song "Time to Get Ill" from their debut License to Ill, but "Hold it Now, Hit It" from the same album contains the line "What time is it/It's time to buy Ale."<br /><br />Brae was combining the two, but this wasn't the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mondegreen">mondegreen</a> I thought it was and not nearly as far-fetched as most of Brae's vernacular.<br /><br />In fact, she kinda schooled me.Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-2846653776201788832010-08-02T14:09:00.000-07:002010-08-02T14:14:55.019-07:00My girl got mad flowBrae and I were doing laundry down in the basement of our building today. I'd forgotten my watch so I asked if she knew what time it was. She shrugged and said she didn't know. <br /><br />But then her eyes lit up and she said, "it's time to buy ale." <br /><br />After a long blank stare I asked, "what?!" <br /><br />"You know, like the Beastie Boys song: What time is it? It's time to get ale!" <br /><br />Another long pause. "Honey, it's time to get <span style="font-style: italic;">ill</span>."Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-57852651423498965902010-07-24T00:20:00.000-07:002010-07-24T00:24:21.420-07:00Today the girlfriend and I were walking down to the river to go for a swim and she purposefully exclaimed, <b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"I feel like Michael Jackson."</span></i></b><div><br /></div><div>"Why is that?" I asked. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b><i>"I just do." </i></b></span> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>...fair enough. </div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-47208770509093001902010-07-20T23:04:00.000-07:002010-07-20T23:09:45.781-07:00<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"That's off the tank!"</span></i></b><div><br /></div><div>Brae's summation of that some new 3D hip hop dance movie we saw advertised on TV tonight. </div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-79921471472487073372010-07-20T22:59:00.000-07:002010-07-20T23:02:00.367-07:00During lunch the other day, Brae quickly polished off her lemonade, wiped her mouth and said,<div><br /></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Man, I downloaded that lemonade fast!"</span></i></b></div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-60624260150397341082010-06-27T13:12:00.000-07:002010-06-27T13:13:31.688-07:00Summer is finally here."The air-conditioning in the car doesn't work. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><i>I think it needs anti-fluid.</i></b></span>"Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-63043890470551445702010-06-10T16:26:00.001-07:002010-06-10T16:40:18.029-07:00That's a mighty big wedgie<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">"I have a wedgie the size of Damascus."</span></span><a href="http://www.syriatoday.ca/images/maps-syria/damascus_big_263.jpg"><br /></a></i></b></span><div><br /></div><div>The first thing I heard my girlfriend say upon waking the other day.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQocUEEi5st61KBbihdC7C6bGJRf6uWN3PFWXrlP31H_XM9is55si-aah2Zjq2dhajW_TxlltJ4q2lPcRjhif6D2wFAhcV0Hpz9esZ5eEFBV0qN1aiHTxrUW38ta2-dEtBWSkNMynuEJA/s1600/Damascus-City-Tourist-Map.mediumthumb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 308px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQocUEEi5st61KBbihdC7C6bGJRf6uWN3PFWXrlP31H_XM9is55si-aah2Zjq2dhajW_TxlltJ4q2lPcRjhif6D2wFAhcV0Hpz9esZ5eEFBV0qN1aiHTxrUW38ta2-dEtBWSkNMynuEJA/s320/Damascus-City-Tourist-Map.mediumthumb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481292620620518354" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-61295749508736204642010-05-10T23:48:00.000-07:002010-05-10T23:52:24.267-07:00The other day Brae and I were talking about what we wanted done to our bodies when we died. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Brae said she wanted to be taken to a </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">crematologist</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. </span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-37517295298552282932010-04-25T23:10:00.000-07:002010-04-25T23:16:20.094-07:00I was giving the girlfriend her nightly leg massage. She wanted me to really get in there and work it out and she said, <b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Oh, yeah. That's it. Do it. Don't pussycoat it." </span></i></b> <div><br /></div><div>I wouldn't dream of pussycoating it, darling. </div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-63468310773375145972010-04-25T09:30:00.000-07:002010-04-25T09:36:34.330-07:00<div>A text message I received from my girlfriend the other night while I was hanging out with the boys:<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Sometimes when I'm down I think of Paris Hilton taking a dump.</span></span></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3d_sIQjOX-z1Gs6LJI8vBE5SyeKp84aj6bfdY-FJGYgbbi6JU6Fy94FAdDvnWnvyxHIMttXkxrjhSiGEMduK3hv-euTRpew7kha1cfLxSJfGuZxCgmOEWQ_gGCXO3o2h82TTKVXngvNE/s1600/brae.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3d_sIQjOX-z1Gs6LJI8vBE5SyeKp84aj6bfdY-FJGYgbbi6JU6Fy94FAdDvnWnvyxHIMttXkxrjhSiGEMduK3hv-euTRpew7kha1cfLxSJfGuZxCgmOEWQ_gGCXO3o2h82TTKVXngvNE/s320/brae.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464114813364166034" /></a><br /><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></span></div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-48633164411459539222010-04-15T11:57:00.000-07:002010-04-15T23:47:26.094-07:00So many hatsI'm looking for a job. On a pretty regular basis Brae sends me job listings she finds on Craigslist and elsewhere. <div><br /></div><div>Recently she was looking at a job posting for an assistant to a fashion designer. Brae started laughing as she read the description of the position. </div><div><br /></div><div>"They said they want some someone who wears many hats. Hahaha." </div><div><br /></div><div>I looked at her blankly and said "what's funny about that?" </div><div><br /></div><div>She said "why do they need you to wear a bunch of a hats?" </div><div><br /></div><div>After I finally stopped laughing and explained what the metaphor meant she said grumpily "that's a stupid saying." </div><div><br /></div><div>I laughed some more and she said, "well, I thought it would be a good job for you since you have so many hats." </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks, hon...</div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-85238275227398839332010-04-13T10:17:00.000-07:002010-04-13T10:24:20.322-07:00<div><br />My girlfriend says to me <b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"you haven't been jogging down things I say lately."</span></i></b><div><br /></div><div>Well, I guess that's her way of saying I should get to it. It <i>has</i> been almost a week. I promise to be more regular. I do have some gems in the hopper.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the meantime, I wanted to show you what Zach Braff does to my girlfriend. He must be stopped.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdCkJypKqqsSvV5CY8fD4OFbbG8hixoT8l-mF1G-_Qe-sPZ2Aky6a1aSjZg4d-fqK3P1ENbQt2tCLTnicTVPr25HDQDpvegiy4pWMHsplFALPtaipU8G0sIfkfkgARGQjRXjbOEVqGKOg/s1600/IMG_3473.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:left;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdCkJypKqqsSvV5CY8fD4OFbbG8hixoT8l-mF1G-_Qe-sPZ2Aky6a1aSjZg4d-fqK3P1ENbQt2tCLTnicTVPr25HDQDpvegiy4pWMHsplFALPtaipU8G0sIfkfkgARGQjRXjbOEVqGKOg/s320/IMG_3473.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459673627717275266" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-55466532601956625462010-04-07T20:14:00.000-07:002010-04-07T20:19:56.315-07:00The other night I was flirting with my girlfriend, being a dork, doing some sort of hootchie-cootchie dance. <div><br /></div><div>My girlfriend got excited and giggled, <b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"oh, you're making me queagle!" </span></i></b> </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm pretty sure that's a good thing.</div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-6568118916540280432010-04-05T14:02:00.001-07:002010-04-05T14:12:55.206-07:00Today Brae and I were talking about phobias. She asked me what mine were and among a few others I mentioned a moderate dose of claustrophobia. <div><br /></div><div>Brae replied with the <a href="http://mygirlfriendsmouth.blogspot.com/2010/04/word-of-day.html">upmost</a> sincerity, </div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"yeah, not until recently did I realize I had a fear of clausters." </span></i></b></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-15827344320431059972010-04-04T01:51:00.000-07:002010-04-04T01:54:58.493-07:00My Girlfriend's Shirt<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPl0qM754MTRtPcghvS7Pi_98Bw9FaXPDwzvtmyaDTB5zlC3NNvhibytXLBlT2a0LY1KLd1OWYA66w3sMA4sWB7HVPhw_UPpohX7_aPRe-1Zt7EPmQvoVLVrZYaxjDiQfWs6HaCRvmN8I/s1600/IMG_3455.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPl0qM754MTRtPcghvS7Pi_98Bw9FaXPDwzvtmyaDTB5zlC3NNvhibytXLBlT2a0LY1KLd1OWYA66w3sMA4sWB7HVPhw_UPpohX7_aPRe-1Zt7EPmQvoVLVrZYaxjDiQfWs6HaCRvmN8I/s320/IMG_3455.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456202736986859874" /></a><br />"I can do anything you want me to do so long as I don't have to speak." -Linda EvangelistaFlapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-6279733156923086842010-04-04T01:40:00.000-07:002010-04-04T01:45:25.972-07:00Word of the Day<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">ketchy: <i>adj.</i> being simultaneously appealingly memorable and tasteless. </span></b><div><br /></div><div>catchy+kitsch=ketchy</div><div><br /></div><div>The name of this blog is an attempt to be ketchy. </div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-45872134069618148122010-04-02T13:43:00.000-07:002010-04-02T13:47:44.087-07:00<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"I think they're going to blow a casket."</span></i></b><div><br /></div><div>Predicting a friend's reaction to some bad news. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yet again, I think Brae has one-upped the original. I mean, it's one thing to blow a gasket...</div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-59558156136104107902010-04-01T12:43:00.000-07:002010-04-05T14:07:00.449-07:00Word of the Day<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">upmost: </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">noun</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> the most or greatest. </span></b> <div><br /></div><div>"We provide the upmost in service." </div><div><br /></div><div>Really, when you think about it, this makes at least as much sense at utmost. </div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-84371459859376754402010-03-31T09:38:00.000-07:002010-03-31T09:48:55.257-07:00Word of the Day<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">schnozzy: <i>adj.</i> characterized by being simultaneously stylish and arrogant. </span></b><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">snazzy + snobby = schnozzy</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div>"That restaurant is schnozzy." </div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-64152683513020827862010-03-28T22:26:00.000-07:002010-03-28T22:27:17.104-07:00<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">"I think you just passed croths with someone." </span></i></b><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></b></div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-42548634787956394392010-03-23T10:16:00.000-07:002010-03-23T10:30:44.165-07:00I was writing the blog update about <a href="http://mygirlfriendsmouth.blogspot.com/2010/03/other-night-i-was-watching-something-on.html">gargyles</a> last night and Brae was reading over my shoulder. She wanted me to make it clear that she wasn't paying attention to the show. You know, 'cause that would explain her spontaneous invention of the word gargyle.<div><br /></div><div>She said to me, "can you write that I was just whimsilly walking in the room?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"What the hell does whimsilly mean?" </div><div><br /></div><div>"Ummm... whiskfully?" </div><div><br /></div><div>"What?!"</div><div><br /></div><div>"I don't know what I'm trying to say."</div><div><br /></div><div>"That makes two of us, my dear." <br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3339653843841827058.post-59871595095751544002010-03-22T18:43:00.000-07:002010-03-22T18:55:28.912-07:00The other night I was watching something on TV about the town of Argyle, TX.<div><br /></div><div>Overhearing, Brae asked, <b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Is Argyle related to gargyles?"</span></i></b></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Flapjackshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04326074251099017348noreply@blogger.com0