About Time For a Limerick

There was a young man named McConkey
With the wit and the charm of a donkey
He pinched a cute lass
Said he liked her big ass
She smacked him so hard he went wonky.

Limerick In Honor of KC

Sometimes it could be quite a teaser
When she buried things deep in her freezer
The search has begun
For a cinnamon bun
Excavation successfull -- it pleased her! I knew I'd stashed one in there someplace.

Thanks KC!

Searching For Content

Sometimes coming up with something to write about can be a challenge. I have a file on my hard drive called "BlogTopicIdeas." Tonight I opened it.

• The Y chromosome -- Did it June 19, though there's enough material there to write a novel.
• The joyous teenager with the bouncing bosom -- Hmm, that's people watching like last night's blog.
• Rock pockets and carbon monoxide -- Don't remember the carbon monoxide part of this thought.
• Cotton bras and shirt wrinkles Did you ever have one of those "well, duh" epiphanies? --Been there, done that -- March 29
• Eating weird stuff -- March 25th
• Katherine Hepburn & Mae West -- February 7 & 8
• Trying to kill the spouse -- I think I'll save this one for later -- let you wonder just how I tried to off him.
• Loaning books -- A-ha! I've got a limerick for this one.

If you're ever so dumb as to lend
Your favorite rare book to a friend
He'll move out of town
That dirty low down
And you'll lose book and friend in the end.

Success! I knew that list was a good idea. Better get busy thinking up and writing down some more emergency ideas.

Writing Limericks

Sigh.

I'm in the mood to write scurryless limericks tonight, but everything I think of is just a wee bit too vulgar or just downright dirty. Why is it that the words that rhyme with the most other words are naughty?

Though Sue was a lovely young lass,
Her language and manners were crass,
She liked to drink beer,
'Till she felt downright queer,
Then she'd gracelessly fall on...

Abort! Abort! I can tell where this one is headed.

That famous young man from Nantucket,
Stuffed all of his clothes in a bucket,
He ran around nude,
And was terribly rude,
And...

No, can't go there! What if my Mom was to read this?!?!?

She thought she should make up a limerick,
(Now wouldn't that be quite a slick trick)
To tell her ex love,
He could give it a shove,
...

Aw geeze, another one I can't finish.

Dang! Guess I'll try again tomorrow.

Twins

I suppose the Engineer and Twin stories I've been telling may have stretched credulity just a wee bit. It's true though, there are two of them. And they are maniacs.
There was an identical brother,
Who looked very much like the other,
As to which twin was who,
There was hardly a clue,
Sometimes they could fool their own mother.

P.S. I've only patted the wrong rump once.

What's In a Name?

When I was a kid, I did not like my name. I liked the combination of my first and middle names even less because, when coming from my mother, it usually meant I was in big trouble.

Of course my brother and sister, being clever little monsters, picked up on this and used it to annoy me; an especially easy feat because, while my first name rhymes with nothing, my middle name rhymes with lots of things. And no, I'm not telling what my middle name was. I legally changed it as soon as I had enough cash that wasn't paying for tuition, rent or food.

We had a tendency to embroider names in my family, and rhyming made it so much easier. My brother was Jeep the Creep, my sister was Bub the Grub. Neither of them would answer to their real name, so Jeep and Bub it was if you wanted them to respond. I can't call my brother anything but Jeep to this day, but in high school my sister became a hottie and went back to her real name. Which was fine with me as Jane rhymes quite nicely with Pain. Which she was. All siblings are pains, it's their nature. (I acknowledge that I was a pain too.)

My cousin was, and still is, Creepy Cousin Eddy. Don't feel sorry for him, he truly deserves the moniker, He's one of those lawyers who gives lawyers a bad name and inspires lawyer jokes. One of those lawyers about whom Shakespeare so famously penned, "The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers." (I know I'm taking it out of context, but it can be such a viscerally satisfying thought at times.)

My dislike of my own name wasn't arbitrary, it was because I thought it sounded silly and sissy. I had two other names in mind, names I considered infinitely better:

Marie. Mah-ree. It sounded so exotic and sophisticated Surely someone named Marie would have the respect of her peers and even adults would look at her like a person instead of a child.

Fred. I know it's a guy's name, but I really liked it. Still do. Fred is such a sturdy name; it's honest, dependable and straightforward. Fred. I like the sound of it.

Wunx~ is something I picked up at Girl Scout camp. The only place I've used it outside camp is on-line. I like the anonymity, and besides, it sounds less silly and sissy than my real name. Well, maybe not less silly, but definitely more interesting.
There once were four knights made of wood
In a Latvian forest they stood
One cried, "Tallyho!
"Which way should we go?"
His friends sighed, "If only we could."

A True Limerick

Sachi grabbed up a cute baby quail
Which started to peep and to wail
Cat thoughts full of gore
Sach dove for the door
But the male hauled her out by the tail.
















P.S. The chick got away.

Fantasy Fishing

I sit here in the hot house just wishin'

I was up on a mountain stream fishin'

To cure summer blues

Simply take off your shoes

Stick your toes in the mud and start squishin'.

Back Yard Beauty

Bright gold as the sun at the dawn

A dandelion's glory's soon gone

Parasols in the breeze

Cover miles with great ease

Drifting down to take root in your lawn.

.

.

.

Don't know why they call dandelions weeds

When they're just what a little kid needs

To hold under a chin

And bring a big grin

Or to huff and puff parachute seeds.

Feeling a Bit Cold Blooded Tonight

Have you ever had one of those nights
When you want to punch out someone's lights
I'm feeling quite snarky
And full of malarkey
So take care to stay out of my sights.

Night Owls Rule!

Some folks have an internal clock
That says that their body should rock
In the dark of the night
But when dawn comes up bright
That's the time that the Sandman will knock.

Why do morning people seem to think they are intrinsically better than night owls? Is there any sin in not wanting to get up before the sun? Is it morally insupportable to be wide awake after 9:00 p.m.?

I say, "No!"

I say, "Night owls of the world unite!"

We are as good and as worthy and as virtuous as any morning person, just differently clocked. Perhaps we seldom appreciate the beauty of the sunrise. We are well equipped to enjoy a sunset. If we don't see the morning mists rising from warm water into the cool dawn air, we do see (if we're lucky enough to get away from urban light pollution) the black, star spangled of infinity of midnight -- and, if we're even luckier and far enough north, perhaps the Northern Lights.

Another Scurrilous Limerick

A hedge preacher called Brother Ingatius
Turned out to be awfully salacious
When he called Maude a pip
And fondled her hip
She smacked him and hollered, "Good gracious!"

Now I need to figure out what kind of an image goes with this...
Got it!

It's not a hedge preacher, it's a dirty old elf pinching a fairy's derriere. Quite apropos, I think. And, yes, I painted it -- it's huge, about 4 feet wide.

Kitty Treasure Chests

Cats are natural born treasure hunters. They are ever willing and eager to climb into any box, bag, cupboard, drawer or closet. Even if they're more than half scared, they have to investigate. They stretch out all long and lean with their eyes and ears on radar setting, their necks almost as long as a giraffe's, to peer into mystery.

Some of them, however, have figured out where the treasure is buried.

Humans hide treasures in cans
Try to ward them with "No!" and with bans
But felines are quick
And they know the trick
To slyly accomplish their plans.

Is This Limerick Autobiographical?

Her husband he tended to snore
Each night he would rumble and roar
Until her ears bled
And she beat on his head
And like Poe's raven screamed, "Nevermore!"

We are essentially living in one room due to the construction on the house. Have been since the end of November. In the room there is a 70 year old, full size, spool bed (the mattress is much younger, thank goodness), a much older oak washstand with a small old oak table in front of it. My computer is on the washstand, the keyboard is on the little oak table and I'm typing in the dark as the Engineer snores like a whole pride of lions beside me.

His snoring at times can be truly astounding. When we go camping, I never have to worry about bears in the night because I'm sure he will frighten them off. Before we got married and moved from his family's vacation cabin to a tent, he slept in the communal sleeping attic. The sweet little old grand-auntie who owns the cabin slept up there also. His snoring has been so bad that she has been known to throw shoes at him. Hit him too. When we set up the tent and moved outside, I thought she was going to shoot off fireworks in her celebration.

I never have hit him for the snoring. No matter how great the temptation, the worst I have done is poked him -- hard. Brianna, however, was not so restrained. It's one of the many things I miss that cat for. She always slept on her very own pillow at the head of the bed. When the Engineer's snoring became too loud and too persistent, she would stand up, glare at him, then haul back her paw, and POW!, whack him right on the head. He would usually sit up and say, in a very hurt voice, "The cat hit me!" I don't know why he complained, she never used her claws.
So I guess the limerick is semi-autobiographical.

Hold Your Nose For This Limerick

One night Joe got terribly drunk
And he said, "Here sweet puss," to a skunk
The skunk took offense
And turned to dispense
A reply to that stinker that stunk.

Do You Know This Guy?

There once was a silly old fart

Whose hairline began at the part

He combed over the top

Held it down with a drop

Of glue and he thought he looked smart.

A Whale of a Limerick

There once was a blue whale named Bill
Who tired of his diet of krill
He stopped filt'ring saline
And traded his baleen
For teeth, then he went for the kill.
Uploading this animated gif was a very strange experience. I tried to host it on Blogger's server, but the little legs wouldn't kick (which, considering how obnoxious they are, wouldn't have been all bad), so I uploaded it to another server I have access to and linked it. For some reason it uploaded multiple copies of the image. Kept uploading until I closed the upload window, then all of the uploads showed up in the Blogger composition window. Took me a long time to delete them, but now I'm down to one. Let's hope this works...