Wednesday, January 21, 2015


Soon after my son-in-law arrived in California, he took an ESL (English as a Second Language) course & had gotten a job as a stock boy.  He came over one day & said, “Mom, this guy at work keeps asking me questions around lunchtime & I don’t know what he’s saying.  I looked up the words & couldn’t find them in the dictionary.”  I asked him what the words were.  He told me “jeet” & “wajeet”.  If he hadn’t mentioned that it was around lunchtime, I’m not sure I could’ve helped him.  I told him his coworker was asking, “Did you eat?” & “What did you eat?”

Always make yourself clear!!  Can you imagine who/what would answer these ads?

Wanted: Precast concrete man.
Need: Woman to run up curtains.
Wanted: A room by two gentlemen 30 feet long and 20 feet wide.
Butcher's sign: Try our sausages. None like them.
A tailor's guarantee: If the smallest hole appears after six months' wear, we will make another absolutely free.
Lost: A small pony belonging to a young lady with a silver mane and tail.
Barber's sign: Hair cut while you wait.
Lost: Wallet belonging to a young man made of calf skin

Being a grandma,

Grandmas are women, too!!

Do you see a lack of imagination in these similes/metaphors?

OK, this one shows imagination:
Like a midget at a urinal, I was going to have to be on my toes.

But these need some work:
He was as tall as a 6′3″ tree.

He was as welcome as a bacon sandwich at a Bar Mitzvah.

He ran faster than a chicken being chased by Colonel Sanders.

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30..

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

He was like a lame  duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.

The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.

He fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

“Oh, Jason, take me!” she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

They were as good friends as the people on “Friends.”

The sardines were packed as tight as the people in the coach section of a 747.

There is no need for profanity.
Keep your language clean!!

I got this from River at driftingthroughlife:

Follow your heart, but don’t forget to take your brain with you----fishducky