My daughter and I invented a little game this afternoon that gave us some good laughs for a solid half hour. We call it “Improv Dictionary”, and we basically take turns with one person making up a word and the other making up its definition. She’s six years old now, but I immediately started thinking about playing this as she get older and more capable with her writing or computer skills. We could actually start cataloging the words we make up into a document or little notepad so we can remember what we’ve done before – a real sort of silly dictionary of our own.
In no particular order, in an ordered list:
- Oak Beefthorne
- Maxwell Fang
- Scud Prolapse
- Ramstein Ramrod
- Bud Cort
- Durmstrang Spinewrangler
- Dug Bärenjäger
- Herc Smaash
- Peterpeter Pumpkeneeder
- Tad Badly
Every year I get my Christmas tree I can’t help returning to this video. Should be extra special for you if you’re a fan of Linda Belcher.
Another sentence that, still self-referential, connects the introductory sentence to this paragraph after an extra line (Parenthetical statement pointing out that the extra line was for dramatic effect. No mention of the amateur nature of this writing contrivance). Further explanation of the situation couched in a personal anecdote that has the tone of whining complaint. Rhetorical questioning of mutual understanding with readership – a readership that is, assuredly, small.
Here is where the blog post begins to collapse on itself. Tangentially-related point that causes this paragraph to devolve into self-pitying, half-coherent platitudes. Self-conscious recognition of derailed original intentions for this post. Obsequious yet still self-pitying apologies to hypothetical audience.
Hey, remember when you could buy the old formula of NyQuil over the counter without anybody suspecting you of being a meth head?
Hey, remember when you could, as a little kid, enter the cockpit of a commercial aircraft and greet the pilot? I got a little pair of American Airlines wings during a flight when I was six years old.
Hey, remember when the soles of flip-flops used to be made with an isotope of a rare-earth metal that would faintly stain your heels if you wore them every day? You had to alternate between your flops and some other kind of shoe every day unless you wanted folks to think you walked barefoot and didn’t shower often.
Hey, remember when you could collect the UPC codes from cereal boxes and send them in to General Mills for gold coins? It took a whole lot of UPCs, but it was a way for a young boy to build his own gold stockpile.
Hey, remember when you could buy human organs on the open market? I don’t know why they stopped doing that – they made for nice decoration in the middle of a coffee table, or a centerpiece at Thanksgiving.
Hey, remember when calling the right phone number just as the clocks were changing over for Daylight Saving Time would result in super powers? Well, maybe mediocre powers. I still don’t see anything quite so super about triple the normal level of mucous production or the ability to cook soup in the can just by thinking about it. Although “shave your face by thought” was pretty sweet. I still miss it.
No? Wait – did all three of your eyes just blink in sequence?