Posts Tagged 'life'

Girls Can’t Bow

So, I won’t lie.

I never do, you know.

Well, that’s not true.

See, sometimes I lie, other times I don’t. It’s a consternation, but it can’t be helped.

That’s why I always say: “I lie every other day.”

Anyways, I must tell you something that’s rather hurtful, and I def can’t lie about it.

Here it is:

Girls can’t bow.

That’s not to say they don’t want to, but it’s just an impossibility. What happens when they try isn’t a bow, see. We can’t go redefining words, after all. (For example, you wouldn’t call a crocodile a lizard if he was stunted in the growth department, would you? Of course not. Likewise, we can’t call a not-bow a bow.)

What's the difference between a bow a bough and a bow? Never mind. That's neither here nor over there.

So, to back up my hypothesis, I must now needs present proof. (All good professor do such things, see. And I’m a good professor, double-see.)

What better way to prove a point than using our dear friend Mr. Google.

Here’s what I found after a quick google; I scanned nearly 642,000 results, btdubs.

And these images were the best that the ladies had to offer.

Proof #1

I mean, this is so far from a bow that I win right away. No problem; no battle; no skin from my lobes.

Proof #2 & #3

A hand spin is not bowing.

Proof #4

This one was closest to a bow…but for a bow to be legit, you really can’t speak and bow at the same time. Therefore, I win.

And I didn’t tell a lie.

And girls can’t bow.

And that’s the end.

Holiday Cut Short

The beating of your heart reminds you you only have so long to beat.

~ V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledI woke up somewhat tired and somewhat sleepy.

Isn’t that an annoying thing?

It always annoys this professor.

I mean, why can’t I wake up somewhat not-tired and somewhat not-sleepy?

The land is against us, I fear.

Anyways and some, it was a cold day where the professor currently was messing about in the Punchy Lands.

Very much so like this.

This is where I was. Sorta looked like this. Look–a bird! I think it’s a Cardinal. Must be Catholic. #badjoke

I was at a ski resort, see. In truth, this is true: the lodge looked like a bunch of tinker toys.

The professor was spending the holiday at the resort, and it was a definite interest.

You see, that’s because the professor can’t ski.

Well, I’ve never skied before, I suppose.

I just like to go to ski resorts just to hang out and think about skiing. One of my fav pastimes, you know. #mostlytrue

Anyways, the professor had just woken up. I wrapped myself in a red Pats hoodie…

Like this.

Like this.

…and left my room to explore.

The lodge was pretty busy downstairs, and it wasn’t long until this professor ran into Daddy Salami and his son, Ruber. (I’ve known Salami and Ruber for a bit now. Always up to no good. I think they live in England. And I think Salami used to be a knight.)

They were sitting at a table, finishing breakfast.

Of course, this professor being the adventurer he is, joined them quicker than a tadpole popping out of a…

…well, you know what I mean.

“Gentlemen,” I said.

Salami’s green eyes flashed. “We ain’t, gentlemen, ya turtle. Now sit down. I have sumtin’ important ta tell ya.”

Was he expecting me? Nah…

Ruber chuckled as ripped two pieces of bacon up and plopped the pieces into his coffee. And, yes, he did drink the whole thing. In one gulp. #impressive

“What is it, not-gentlemen?”

“Shut-up!” Salami snapped. “And be quiet. It’s a secret.”

Then he leaned close: “We were one man down on our mission, but then ya showed up, and yure gonna help us.”

“Or we’ll pluck yo eyes out,” Ruber added, in his English accent.

“Come on,” Salami said.

They both stood.

“What are we…?” I ventured.

“Knocking somebody off,” Ruber said. “Get your skis.”

“Count Mastroid has ta die,” Salami added.

“He’ll be on the slopes soon,” Ruber said. “We’ll get him then.”

Salami laughed, obviously excited. “See ya in front of da lodge in twenty minutes, cur-face, or I’ll cut yure face out and use it as a wall decoration.”

A mission on the slopes sounded fun. But knocking someone off? Warriors don’t do that sort of thing.

Plus, the professor can’t ski…

PL Symbol

Classroom Mayhem

“So…”–gigantic, and I mean huge, pause for emphasis here–“how do we know what we know?”

The question hung in the air, and this professor, for one, would’ve left it hanging there (probably indefinitely) but an elderly chap sitting next to me raised his hand and spoke up.

He said something full of dadblamery, so I had to raise my hand and say:

“We know what we know because we know it.”

A just answer. Maybe a bit oblique, but then again, so was the question. I leaned back like a conqueror, thinking that I had won, and that it was over.

But a war was coming.

The chap teaching the class shook his head.

“No, no, you can’t answer that way,” he said. “They were the words I used in my question.”

“Quite right,” I said, “that’s why I rearranged them for my answer.”

“No.” He was a bit stern here, I must admit. Hands on hips, chin jutting out in my direction like a stag beetle with it’s great big jaws. “You don’t get it.”

Stag Beetle with its awesome jaws.

Stag Beetle with its awesome jaws.

“Oh I get it.”

Of course, this professor didn’t mean to be spicy at all, but the other students laughed here a bit, bits, and little bits.

“You. Don’t. Get It,” he repeated. “I want you to use your own words to answer the question.”

And then this professor spied something on his shoulder, and I knew I’d won.

“They became my own words once I rearranged them, see. And furthermore, double see, is that a hornet on your shoulder?”

He screamed, everyone laughed, and this professor–shiny, cunning beast that he is–won.

#conqueror 


TPL Schedule

Sunday: OFF — Day of Shalt Nots

Monday: TPL Story

Tuesday: OFF — Because I'm Gone

Wednesday: Professor Speaks

Thursday: OFF — Because Yes

Friday: OFF — All Day Sleep Does

Saturday: OFF — Blue-Footed Boobies Need Fed

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Punchy Argot:

1. Dadblameit.
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3. Chickit
4. Chicky-woot-woot
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