Stuff I’ve heard, read, thought, and/or received from the furthest most reaches of the cosmos
Penguin Conquest.
Twerkin’ an’ pole dancin’ on The Square.
This is why you don’t verbalize your limits to other people: so you’re the only one who knows you’ve failed.
I just started feeling bad. Musta been the bourbon.
I just started feeling better. Musta been the bourbon.
It’s not so much about getting lit as it is about staying lit.
ASB: Associate Student Body. DSB: Dissociated Student Body.
How many roads must a man walk down? Approximately 237,016,432.666.
Ignomy, polignomy, gnomy.
Poo Hong. Poo Hung.
I had to curtail that because I was still somewhat peripherally involved with my wife.
I’m drunk but I’m not wasted.
Not your best work, Weeks.
The world is too much with us.
The Act of Taking a Shot. The Art of Taking a Shot.
3DI: Three Drinks In. 3DUI: Three Months In.
Snakes on The Balcony.
There’s a new fast food fowl restaurant in town: Three-way Chicken (Ménage a Cluck).
Clogs of coeds.
American idol. American idle.
Daddy tried to raise me right, but I went left.
Your column is great for cleaning windows—and a few other things. (Joe the Barkeep)
A bacon of joy.
That’s where the bongs are.
The Water Valley variant.
Are we gentrified yet?
I am dedicated, but I need to be committed.
She’s an elegant mess.
Thump.
It’s hard picking on people when you can’t be around them.
It’s probably legit—or not—maybe.
A perfect marriage is just two imperfect people who refuse to give up on each other. (oursouthernsouls.com)
Overly born again.
She is an image of immoderation. (Rumi)
I shave my legs with a dead man’s razor.
It’s the best unit at Parchman.
Inpraguenito: Trying to go unnoticed in the Czech Republic.
Mononucleosis: The Kissing Disease. Stereonucleosis: a hi-fidelity joke.
You can’t ignore someone on a bike in the breezeway with a boombox.
Blame it on the brownie.
Drunk on butter beans.
Wrongfully delicious.
Allegedly. (Jennifer Mason)
Queen of Counterpoints.
A scrambled egg is a violent quiche.
Spacial recognition.
One with the wood.
A pistol is as good as a sawed-off shotgun if you know how to use it.
There is a gumball machine somewhere.
In cog neato.
I’m harmless, but I don’t always mean well.
Goin’ to that great gig in the sky.
He’s a tourist to normalcy.
Pootles: fancy dogs with gastric issues.
The indicicitists.
Sterile cicadas.
De-Balconate.
Around the world in codpieces.
Clutter corps.
What if Perry Como used a laser show in his concerts?
Instaangst: powder that, when mixed with water, induces worry about anything and everything—mostly anything. No—mostly everything. Perhaps. Allegedly.
Spectercle.
Vacciwaited: being in a super long line for a super long time to receive the Covid-19 vaccine.
Got to get that butt protein.
The Triangle of Trust.
My favorite kind of flagellation: self-flagellation.
Miss Anthropy.
But I can’t do that. I know people here.
Inspired to be nosey.
On an expotential scale…
An array of condom mints.
I’ve grown accosted to your face.
Aperitif: a pair of teeth, not necessarily matching.
A fish bit my nipple. Then there was blood.
You don’t have to struggle to be free here, but you’re still free to struggle.
Everything is right behind the sky.
What’s the difference between a double entendre and a single entendre? Is there a triple entendre?
Bitchability.
A spiral is a spiral.
The hankerin’ never stops.
Dino in the crosswalk.
Vengeance is a lazy form of grief (The Interpreter—film).
It’s good to know a man from The Delta.
Posterior distribution.
The problem with Paul.
The figuring out tree. (Jennifer Mason)
The birth defect of slavery. (Condoleezza Rice)
Anti-Semantic.
Disshoveled.
Let it be so. (Hunter the Barkeep)
Spewing magnolias (Kendall Ketchum the Comedian).
I take diligence in my entanglements.
Over-simulated.
The Great Godsby.
Primal simplicity.
How could you feel otherwise as long as grace and mercy and forgiveness do not fill your heart?
I just let it wiggle.
Crouptons.
A fresh batch of mucus.
Jumping to confusions.
Dandy lion: a lion in a tuxedo with a bowtie.
Wicked pedia.
You don’t have to ask weeds to grow.
I’ll pretend it’s small enough.
Does poetic justice rhyme?
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Randy Weeks is a Licensed Professional Counselor and a Certified Shamanic Life Coach. He can be reached at randallsweeks@gmail.com.
