Props: Now With More Nuts
There is a pecan tree that dominates my back yard. In early Fall, pecans rain down upon my deck with the satisfying *bonk* of nut meeting wood (10-year old boys in the audience are howling with laughter right now). Sadly, I hold no love for pecans and therefore resign myself to watching my resident wildlife munch themselves sick on my tree’s booty (more laughter). I expect that soon, in addition to the rain of nuts, I’ll hear the crack of wood and see a large branch crash to the ground along with the little furry bodies of obese squirrels who will just lay still, their breathing shallow and their little stomachs full to near bursting. It’s too bad they don’t wear pants; the poor squirrels have no belts or buttons to loosen. Along with so many life lessons that nature provides, the harsh reality of enjoying too many nuts is one that has almost unlimited applications: Nuts should only be enjoyed in moderation (pants-wetting levels of hilarity).
Enough innuendo about balls. It’s been too long since I last distributed props. Classes are in full swing and the lab work is both fascinating and potentially deadly, so my mind has been engaged elsewhere. Also, there was that break-in thing, but seriously….my silver lining is shaped like a new 42” LCD with 1080p resolution and a free home-security system. Boo hoo. Yes, the ring blah blah, but crying over spilled milk yakkity shmakkity. On with the props:
Sarah Brown’s an author. It’s a collection of teen diary entries. Can you imagine anything more entertaining than the collected teen angst of people who aren’t you? Of course, you can’t. The title is painfully appropriate and the excerpts that I’ve read are hilarious, so go forth and treat yourself to other people’s adolescent woe.
The Comic Curmudgeon is consistent entertainment, as are his legion of commenting minions.
Sticking with humor that reduces ten-year old boys to goo….
Aaaaaaaand some older Achewood. I’m starting to think that Achewood will be a perpetual prop because of its unapologetic awesomeness.
Finally, the words that a young Benjamin Franklin penned for his eventual tombstone. Surprisingly, they aren’t the ones that ended up being used, so I may just save them for my own, such is their perfection.
It’s contents torn out
And stript of its lettering and gilding
Lies here, food for worms.
But the work shall not be wholly lost
For it will, as he believ’d, appear
Once more,
In a new and more perfect edition,
Corrected and amended,
By the author
Sir @ September 12, 2008
Wait. Benjamin Franklin is dead?
Excuse me. There’s something in my eye.
Hello, Sir.
I LOVE NUTS! SEND ME YOUR NUTS!
Heeheehee.
the satisfying *bonk* of nut meeting wood
munch themselves sick on my tree’s booty
the rain of nuts
It’s too bad they don’t wear pants
the harsh reality of enjoying too many nuts is one that has almost unlimited applications: Nuts should only be enjoyed in moderation
(10-year old boys in the audience are howling with laughter right now)
Or, you know, 27-year-old chicas who are just really REALLY mature! ;)
If you send me your nuts (heeeee!), I will make you a delicious, golden, flaky pecan pie… Mmm!
And, yes, those words are perfect.
damn it, anyway! i don’t know how to surf, sir, and the waves i have to (read: get to) navigate when i come here are of the same variety patrick swayze and keanu reeves so persistently sought in that bank robbery/surfing flick i have never even considered referencing until this very second… good thing i at least know how to swim.
enlightening anecdotes, contemplative cartoons, third-grade humor, and oh… epitaphs. epitaphs get me every time, most notably this one. i came, i saw; i laughed, i cried.
i need a nap. in a good way. bless you.
I used to live under a walnut tree. I mean, in a house under a walnut tree. And it was incredibly entertaining (with a limited definition of the words “incredibly” and “entertaining”) to listen to the squirrels knock the walnuts off the tree onto the roof and chase them. It was considerably less entertaining when a walnut busted the windshield of my car, however. Nuts: powerful enough to shatter glass. Did you know? Ahem.
Even before your parenthetical statement, I was all over ‘nut meeting wood”. I appropriated Butthead as an aspect of my Self long ago.
“10-year old boys in the audience are howling with laughter right now”
AND some women in their late 20s….like JenBun said.
Scott: Well, I hate to be the one to break the news to you. He’s in a better place now.
Kat: Well, I suppose I could box up a fair portion of the nuts (assuming I can avoid a squirrel uprising in doing so) and send them your way. I’ll see what I can do. Also, it’s ‘Timmons’, right?
Jennie: You were actually the 10-year old boy I was thinking of while writing this.
JenBun: As stated, I’m unfortunately not a fan of the nuts. Otherwise I’d to be up to my eyes in nut-based pies.
J: That a single post involving pecans would lead to someone mentioning Point Break is something that I never dreamed my writing might enable. It appears that I’m breaking exciting new ground.
Jamelah: Nuts aren’t to be taken lightly. They’re the silent killers.
BHJ: I had you as more of a Beavis type, but am perfectly willing to stand corrected.
Mindy: You trumped my nut-heavy post with your Mexican boners, though. You definitely win.
I cannot say “balls” without smiling. I guess it’s the 10-year old boy in me. Wait…that doesn’t sound….Well, that must be the Mustache wearing, candy giving, 1979 Ford Vandura driving pervert in me. Just call me Chester.
Oh, and the vision of squirrels wearing pants…Second to none.
~j
Ben Franklin is seriously The Man.