Do Unicorns Poop Rainbows?

This is what my friend Emily posted as her status on Facebook recently.

One response to it that was posted said:

Unicorn: I swear Noah said the Ark was leaving at 5:30

Noah: Sweet, an extra room!

This got me thinking which is not good when I'm tired because either really clever (yay!) or really stupid (not so yay) stuff gets recorded in journals, on Facebook, here on my blog... or in all three.

I commented on Emily's status with a small novel that I dare say is more stupid than clever; perhaps a 92:8 ratio.  Yikes.  Enjoy... because it's featured below.

Disclaimer: I've been up nearly all night coughing and I'm deliriously tired. This was all tired fun, no religious truths reflected.

I say... yes!  But it takes 7 of them to do it right with all the colors.  To stay with the Ark theme... there were literally only 7 unicorns in the world, each their own color.  There was no getting on the Ark 2 by 2 happening because it would leave #7 alone to drown.  Well, that was their excuse upon trying to get through the pearly gates.  Really, they were prudish and not really into the whole interracial relationship thing.  To continue, they were spared through the flooding (unicorns float and their horn doubles as a snorkel) but the Ark landed on them when it hit dry ground.  Bummer.  Trapped by the Ark, and before taking their last gasp of sweet air, the 7 unicorns heard the voice of God: "Uh, I've got this As Seen on TV multi-color rainbow creator doo-hickey thing up here but it doesn't work" he said, then grudgingly mumbled, "because I didn't read the instructions before putting it together. I need some help facilitating the creation of a beautiful miracle before y'all come join the rest of the Uni-herd up here".  In response to the plea form the Almighty, the 7 unicorns took in that last breath and... crapped out a 7-layer rainbow!  One man's crap is another man's treasure... and oh, if only Noah knew how the spectacle was actually pulled off. 

Thank you. Thank you.  No encores tonight, the coughing has subsided mostly and there's finally a chance of sleeping for a few hours before going to work.

Double Feature

"I Farted Over THERE"

This kid (kid A) in the after-school program one of my clients works at was sitting next to another kid (kid B) enjoying snack.

Kid C wanted to come over and sit with kid B, but kid B said no, accusing kid A of passing gas.

Kid A insisted he did not pass gas.

Kid B insisted that he did pass gas because he could smell it.

And this is where kid A brighly shouted, "That's because I farted over THERE!!!"

Tact.... where can we get a tact upgrade for our youth? Anyone? Anyone?

"Can You Tip Me Over?"

One of my clients is a little uneasy on his feet.

He works where he is frequently around boxes.

Boxes, unsteady gait... you do the math - Some things are eventually inevitable.

He turned around to do something and lost his footing, sitting himself inside an open box.

With his feet and hands and head above the box, this grown man looked at me with his one good eye and innocently said, "Can you tip me over so I can get out?"

I nearly died laughing.

3 for 1 Special

Are you a believer?

I am waitressing very very part-time now, as my regular work week is keeping me quite busy.

Last Saturday I worked at the restaurant and I was taking an order for a large party. During the entire time I was writing, I noticed a woman staring at my server book, wherein I keep a picture of Christ ministering unto the children.

When I brought her a drink refill, she mentioned that she saw the picture earlier and asked in a whisper, "Are you a believer"?

The question delivery and word application was a little... different than I'm used to. After tooling it around in my mind for a second, I whispered back, "Why yes, I am".

I B L8

On Sunday I was helping a friend out by accompanying her beautiful singing in a special musical number she performed for her ward's (congregation) sacrament meeting at church. This was at 3pm and located in South Anchorage. At 5pm I was needing to be back to my side of town so I could teach in my ward's Relief Society (a women's Sunday school class).

One hour to get from point A to point B is a grand amount of time, but for some reason I felt like I left my friend's ward a little later than I should have. Part-way to my destination, I had this feeling that I was going to be late. I was worried and amidst my minor panic, a truck pulled into the lane in front of me.

Of all the things the truck's personalized I-like-to-distract-other-drivers license plate could say, it offered me no comfort with "I B L8".

Fiber anyone?

One of my clients works for an after-school program. Therefore a few afternoons a week, three hours at a time, I'm with this client at the school. Around children. Enough said.

Today a kid came into the program with a l-o-o-o-n-g piece of paper with protruding pieces of paper at one end, and a pointed piece at the other. He had made a paper scorpion.

He was playing with it, and trying to "sting" my arm and make me squirm. I played along, even though it's not REALLY my job to interact with the kids. I mean, come on, what do you think I am? Nice? Never.

Seeing kids using their imaginations in this time of video games and crap like that is rather rare these days. This little scorpion thing was rather charming until...

The kid totally ATE it. Yeah, he ATE it. Want me to say it again? He ATE it!!! Yes! All three flippin' feet of paper that it was!

As much as I am not a fan of video games, at least if a kid takes of chunk out of a controller or something, electricity will do it's thing and teach 'em a lesson.

The paper, well... that won't bite back until later.

Reaching in the Bowl with a Dry Hand

Today I, for the gazillionth time, made a comment to the woman I live with about a particular bowl in her kitchen (and various other places in the house). It's not the typical bowl one finds in the cabinet. No matching floral patterns, no chips in the ceramic, no fancy-shmancy anything. In fact, it grew out of the ground, the insides dried all up, someone cut it in half and -Tada!- vegtable to kitchen accessory in one (ok, more than one) fell swoop.

So, this crazy bowl floats around the house. It appears out of nowhere at the most unsuspecting moments. Walk walk walk walk -Blam!- the bowl's underfoot. Move the mail off the table and -Poof!- there's the bowl. How it hid under the envelopes, I do not know. David Copperfield must have snuck in through the floorboards, or the drain, or on the neck of that stupid fly that's buzzing around.

You see the bowl, it's in the picture. Yes, your eyes are not mistaken, it is indeed sitting on the piano. See? SEE? And you thought I was lying about how it pops in and out of places. Just seconds before it was hiding on the floor next to the reclining chair watching the news.

Speaking of the news, the world is being sucked into a powerful whirpool called the flush function of the toilet. You ever dropped something in the toilet while it's flushing? Bad feeling, eh? Let me educate you on the three universal steps to losing something in a flushing cammode.

Step 1: Your item of choice is falling. You know it's going to land in the toilet. You can't stop it. Slow motion kicks in, and your mouth opens but sound hasn't come out yet.

Step 2: The aforementioned item splooshes into the twirling water. [Cue audio]: "Noooooooooooooo!!!!" You reach into the bowl of the toilet, never get wet, and think that was a good effort to retrieve said item.

Step 3: The toilet water is almost gone and -Shhhhhh Gloosh!- your item is officially gone too. You close the lid and get on with your day.

That's what's happening to our world right now. We're experiencing step too. We're stuck in the twirling water, yelling "Nooooo", but doing nothing more than reaching in the bowl with a dry hand. Don't get me wrong, I have friends over seas in combat who I pray for every night... but is war really getting us anywhere? Each side of this mega issue is losing their loved ones. Our leaders would be a lot more productive by sitting down together and discussing things.

Of course, food would have to be involved. Imagine Osama Bin Laden (or any other oppressive anti-American head-of-the-pack dude) and President Bush dining together. By golly, food could save the day...

Bush: "Osama my man, this is some tasty cheesecake. Did you make this?"

Osama: "No sir, it's store bought. Pretty good for being purchased if I may say so."

Bush: "Hot-diggity-dog yes it is. Where'd you purchase this? I must get some for the whitehouse shin-dig next week."

Osama: "Why, I bought it at Costco on the way here. Could really use one of those markets back home."

Bush: "Ok Osama, I'll cut you a deal. We'll build you some o' those stores if you'll share with me the recipe to the chicken we ate earlier. Mmmm-mmm, I know that was home cooked for sure."

Osama: "Sir, that wasn't chicken. It was horse, the other other white meat. You don't need the recipe, you already have it in your grandmother's old recipe box."

Bush: "How is that possible, my new friend?"

Osama: "Our grandmothers were pen-pals back in the day. Traded recipes like kids with baseball cards."

Bush: "Man, we're practically family then. Why were we fighting?"

Osama: "Beats me. Care for a mint?"

And there you go folks, world peace thanks to fattening food (cheesecake), places that sell food (Costco), and people that make food (grandmothers). Now that we have the type, source, and preparers for the food that will regain world peace, we must figure out the perfect table setting for it. They say the dishes can make or break a good meal. Y'know, there's this nifty bowl floating around the house...

Happy 4th

May -pop!- you -bang!- all -crackle!- sleep -weeee!- well -crack!- as -pop!- you -bang!- rest -crackle!- up -weeee!- for -crack!- some -pop!- major -bang!- celebration -crackle!- tommorrow -spoof!

(Or tonight if you're in my neighborhood.)