The Beehive denizens observed a number of linguistic earth-wobbles this past week:
"Quick, put the Army in a gallon zippie!"
(Time for dinner, and Spuddy Buddy's plastic army men were all over the table.)
"I just poured the water over the entire area.
There was no way to keep it off the sailboats."
(A friend, describing a laundry tactic intended to remove purple berry stains but not the cute little red appliques.)
(Spuddy Buddy, when asked what substance he was squeezing copiously on his blistered heel. Neosporin should consider him for their ad department.)
"And now, I will tell you a hard piece of math!"
(Spuddy Buddy again, entertaining the tribe by launching into a demonstration of the wonders he has figured out regarding 10, such as "10 + 30 = 40." We are just so proud of his powers of self-discovery, but our literary sensibilites are shocked by the notion of Math As Storytelling. And how enticing to learn that it can be broken -- though we should prefer shattered -- into pieces. However, we are not so shocked that they would be hard pieces.)
High Speed Internet
Ballroom for Rent
(Prime example of anachronistic juxtaposition, seen on a billboard.)
Can't wait for next week's wobbles.