what is her back beach

And now for something that only I might find funny. But I do confess I laughed so hard, I cried.

I recently had the toddler (2 years, 10 months) leave Ed a voicemail message. The audio is utterly endearing and cute. But I was in stitches reading the Google Voice transcription:

“Hey. And yeah, Hi. Hey, got it, call me. Hey, Yes, Hi Blooms Here it is and hi hey. Les, Hi Sara of it. Yeah, Hi Ed, It’s Yeah, it’s tyler perry mass HI bye HI. Hello, doing. Thank you. Hi Ed, Donahue, west, but calling to see you, alright bye bye, bye bye HI I don’t, right ohh, Hi, it’s set. Okay, bye love. Colorado dot Bob, Ed mcelroy back. Hello You. Okay bye. I have, I just, hey message, Hey it’s me. Hello. No, but HI Well, ohh but either camp control. I don’t doubt it alright. Bye, alright so. What is her back beach. I kayaking with G that shows how that came Please. Good morning Yeah, okay as far as I get to know if this message is over. Pouring so hope you enjoyed that. We are headed to you already have and After I drop her off possibly and Carlos Carlos friends are going to come, finish the coffee needs So that’s what’s going on the plane. We love you. Yeah man, Bye, I.”

So.

  • Tyler Perry mass
  • Donahue
  • Colorado dot Bob
  • camp control
  • WHAT IS HER BACK BEACH
  • kayaking with G
  • finish the coffee needs
  • that’s what’s going on the plane
  • yeah man.

I ❤ modern technology so much. : )

finishthecoffeeneeds

Three-sentence horror story: HONEYMOON

Hile, inklings!

If you recall, I recently wrote a three-sentence horror story for a flash fiction contest.

Sadly, I didn’t win. But that’s the breaks, right? Loss of hypothetical glory notwithstanding, the three-sentence fiction concept has continued percolating in my brain these several weeks and brought forth the richness of IDEA: Ima start posting three-sentence short stories here on a semi-regular basis, and y’all can let me know what you think of ’em. It should be great story-telling practice for me (and Grabthar knows I need it), and I hope it’ll be fun for you. Yay! Everybody wins!

Except for the cheetahs. They never prosper.

Of course, I might do this just the one time and then forget that I thought of it. (This might be what “semi-regular basis” really means.) Guess you’ll just have to hide and watch.

So, without further ado or adon’t, here’s my newest three-sentence horror story. Enjoy. (They won’t all be horror, by the way. The first two just happen to be.)

____________

HONEYMOON

by Courtney Cantrell

When he came to, it was pitch black.

His shaking fingers soon discovered that she’d gouged out his eyes.

But worse, no matter how he screamed, the floor beneath him would not stop writhing.

THE END

Don’t Forget Your Porn Bucket

So, my husband works in hardwood flooring. A customer comes into the store, and the following exchange takes place between the customer and Ed’s co-worker. We’ll call the co-worker Adam and the customer Greg.

Adam: What can we do for ya?

Greg: Do y’all have any porn buckets?

Adam (stares): Do we have what?

Greg: Porn buckets. You got any?

Adam: I…I don’t understand. What?

Greg: PORRRRN buckets.

Adam: Dude, this is hardwood (stifles snort) flooring. We don’t have anything about porn here.

Greg: Flooring! Yes! That’s why I’m here — I need porn buckets!

Adam: Um…okay. What do you want to…um…do with these buckets?

Greg: Pour the finish in the bucket and then pour it over the floor.

Adam: Oh. Pouring buckets?

Greg: Yeah! Porn buckets!

________

Don’t do drugs, kids.

Best hardwood floor drawing EVAR.

Best hardwood floor drawing EVAR.

I am the Samson of the Sock World

So, the husband got himself a bad ankle sprain at work last Thursday. Two nights later, after he was already half-asleep, I crawled into bed and kicked his sore ankle.

Ed (muted whisper so as not to wake the baby): OW!

Me (muted whisper so as not to wake the baby): Oh no! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!

Ed (still whispering): It’s okay.

Me (still whispering): I’m really sorry. I’m wearing socks, so I don’t know my own strength.

Ed (whispering): What are you, the Samson of the Sock World?

(Imagine we whisper the rest of the conversation, because I’m already tired of typing the word “whisper.”)

Me: Yes. Yes, I am the Samson of the Sock World.

Ed: So, if we shave your head, you’ll lose your ankle-kicking sock-powers?

Me: You’ve uncovered my secret. Shave my head, and I’m just like any other mortal.

Ed (whisper-singing a parody of the spiritual “Witness”**): Shave your head with a Bic in my hand and your strength will come like a natural…woman?

Me (whisper-singing): ‘Cause you make me feel, you make me feel, you make me feel like a natural woman!

Ed: Stop that, you’re gonna wake the baby.

Me: You’re the one who started singing.

Ed: Only because you kicked me!

Me: I can’t help it! It was the socks!

Ed: I’m going to sleep now.

Me: If you come at me with a Bic, I’m going to scream.

Later….

Ed: *snoorrrre*

Me: Stop snoring! *kick*

____________

“Witness”, relevant lines at 1:37 – 1:48.

Will You Be My Fracquaintribe?

Caveat emptor readtor:

This post might mirror my life: jumbled, disorganized, exhausted, frantic. (And yet, there’s a tranquil part, too, because I am SO THRILLED TO BE LIVING IN A HOUSE FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 1996!!!)

You’ve been warned. ; )

Word cloud generated with Wordle.net

*ahem*

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about the definition of “friend.”

I really started thinking about it when I first joined Facebook four years ago — and people started “friending” me. Not be-friending, mind you, just friending. Suddenly, “friend” could be a verb that didn’t require a prefix.

Friend Me! I’m Friendly! And I’m Not a Psychopath!

And it didn’t require close connection with the person in question, either. We got rid of the “be-” and, at the same time, got rid of the need for knowing someone before we call them a “friend.”

On Facebook, I discovered, friends were friends. Acquaintances were friends.

Annnnnnd…total strangers were friends! What?! Upon a friend-friend’s recommendation, I found myself friending someone I’d never met in person or even online. I trusted the friend-friend not to steer me toward a crazy person, so why not?

So. “Friend” no longer meant “person I spend lots of time with and trust with most aspects of my life.” In this brave new cyberworld, a friend was someone with whom I had a connection either through personal experience or through decent referrals.

How cozy.

Along Came Twitter

Since May 2010, I’ve been a Twitterer. Or a Tweeter. Over a year, and I don’t know the nomenclature for what I am. Identity crisis aside, I’ve been tweeting and re-tweeting for 14 months now…

…and, wonder of wonders, I’ve got better connections with my tweetlings (as I call them!) than with the “acquaintances” and “total strangers” whom I have friended on Facebook.

My tweetlings tweet and RT (read: re-tweet) about me, and I about them. I help them out; they help me out. There’s a lot of give and only a little take. Whereas Facebook “friends” will opine and argue (sometimes discourteously), tweetlings tend to be polite.

From what I can tell, the rule on Twitter seems to be:

If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.

I kinda sorta like that a lot.

Tribe Hummus*

The newest part of my What’s A Friend? Saga is that Dino Dogan of DIY Blogger NET invited me to join Triberr.

You can click through to read the whos and whatsits — but basically, Tribber is designed so that individual tribe members can automatically retweet each other’s blog posts, thereby giving each member access to the others’ followers.

I’m too new to tell, really, just how much Triberr is extending my reach…but extend my reach it does. When I tweet my blog posts, 339 followers see my tweet.

But through the members of my Triberr tribe, my posts reach 6,785 Twitter users.

That’s a lot of free advertising. ; ) It’s brought me some new connections, and I’m pondering setting up my own tribe. I’ll blog more about that in the future — so prepare ye for updates! ; )

Triberr members promote each other; simply by being a member, I’m doing something good for three other people. And by being members, those three people are doing something good for me.

Friends do that.

Fracquaintribes

So. What do you think of all this?

Ten years from now, will we still have friends?
Will we have acquaintances?
Or will we all be members of tribes or clans, less and less individualized and more community-minded?

Is any of this pointing toward a sort of hive mind?

Resistance is futile; you will be assimilated. All of this re-defining of relationships is interesting…but how far will it go before the intellectual exercise turns into a humanity we present-day Twitterers, Facebookers, and Triberrs no longer recognize?

If you’re reading this, you’re pretty much already in my fraquaintribe. So let’s talk. : )
______________________
*As I pondered the heading for this section, I Googled the word “tribe” for fun. “Tribe hummus” was one of the auto-complete options; it made me gigglesnort, so I kep’ it. ; )