satire
Relationship satire can be cathartic; when love hurts too much, just laugh.
The I'm Sorry But
Is there anything more disingenuous or less sincere then the “I’m sorry but?” What other four words (three I guess if you consider the contraction “I’m” a single word) allow one to pretend to apologize while at the same time providing the perfect segue for a lecture explaining why one does not actually need to. In fact, in many cases the “I’m sorry buttee” is in for an educating discourse on why they should be the one apologizing. Can we please, as a collective unit of humanity, agree to stop saying this? If I might suggest an alternative, simply withhold the apology until such time as one is actually sorry, and then proceed to apologize in a sincere and meaningful fashion. Save the explanations and caveats for a later date or never. If one is not actually sorry, that is OK too, simply refrain from apologizing as described in the previous sentence. That is all.
By Everyday Junglist4 years ago in Humans
Dear Santa, I Really Need a New Laptop and a Few Other Things This Year…
Dear Santa, Yeah, I’m like 30 years too old to probably have this letter approved, but, seriously, I broke my laptop’s keyboard last year and still haven’t gotten it fixed (Ok, Ok, sure, I got a new keyboard to plug in, but underneath that neon-lit keyboard is a keyboard that still can’t type the letter “m”).
By Gregory D. Welch4 years ago in Humans
Lift Up Your Writing With the Power of Redundancy
The Most Redundant Words to Delete From Your Writing The consensus of opinion these days seems to be that redundancy in writing is bad. While it may be the general consensus it is not an absolute certainty that this is the case. In fact it might possibly be the case that redundancies are more superior to other methods of emphasis when it comes to getting and keeping your readers attention, despite what Random House copy chief Benjamin Dreyer says in the above linked piece.
By Everyday Junglist4 years ago in Humans
Julie Davis is a Star
An old European man named Dylan Kennedy always carried pepper around in the breast pocket of his plaid shirt. His shirt was blue, the pepper was black. He carried it because he loved sneezing, but more than that he loved when people would say ‘bless you’, ‘God bless you’, or ‘gesundheit’. You know, some say that the cumulative effect of eight consecutive sneezes could replicate the pleasure of having an orgasm. Poor Dylan’s record was a measly five.
By Liam McCloskey4 years ago in Humans
And That Baby Grew Up To Be Albert Einstein
And that Baby Grew up to be Albert Einstein – Keith Duffy and Getting up the Duff OK so I thought I could go with a different type of tale today, so sit back, grab a cup of tea or get comfortable hiding in the jacks in work, whilst I regale you with a story of a day in my life of yesteryear. ‘Twas the summer of 2003, I was 21, on break from college before returning for my final year of my degree and working in town. This shop was a novelty shop, mainly for children, producing a variety of teddy bears on the site to the specifications of stupid little people. We put in hearts, voice boxes, stuffing, dressed them and gave them birth certificates. We smiled and joked with children and it was all really saccharin, but, for the most part I enjoyed it. It paid well, I liked sewing and some children were scared of balloons which amused me no end.
By Caroline Egan4 years ago in Humans
My Show Horse
"Five minutes, Miss Black!" the show announcer called to me as I put on my hat and tilted it slightly to one side. This was my moment; my big daube and I was ready to go out and wow the audience with all my original songs. The Sweetheart Country Connection. The last one to open the show was just finished, and I was ready. I put on my best smile as I walked onto the stage after the emcee did an unbelievable introduction. When I got up to the mic, I let out a whooping, "whoo hoo!" to the applauding audience. After the audience quieted down, I began my show.
By Nelly Black4 years ago in Humans
Learn when to fold
“How are you tonight?” Ask the man. “I’m good, how are you?” “I’m good.” There was an awkward pause that flowed through the two. They are at a loud club right now. There’s blaring rap music and nauseating led lights that are violating the whole room. The girl walks away and the man is frustrated. He thought she liked him. He only had one conversation with her in his entire life, it was a week ago when she was vomiting off a couple four Lokos and he stood by to comfort her. She didn’t want company, she wanted to be left alone. To him, she needed a hero, someone to watch over her while she suffered. She didn’t want to talk to him, she didn’t want to talk to him when she was dying, and she doesn't want to talk to him now that she is living. He wasn’t going to give up, he wasn’t going to give up then, he wasn’t going to give up now. She wanders off, she doesn't have a lot of thought going on in her mind, she never had. The man goes to buy her a drink.
By Andrew Archer 4 years ago in Humans
