Yipppeeeee

Today was a fun day, oh sweet lord of the light box as it explodes back into darkness, the fun oozed from us today it did and it was spectacular. Dang yeah it was fun. And I’ll tell you why. We received mail. And mail is fun. Also check this out (by the way checking things out is also fun, especially if the things you check out turn out to be rad and/or pretty dang nice.

That’s right, today is funspolsion.

(Sorry, sorry, I know. The blog has been literally flawless since the pandemic began, except the fun announcing catch phrase coining has been terrible. Please focus on the 7453 things we’ve gotten right, and not the tiny thing we’ve gotten wrong. And check out this letter. We liked it!)

Dear David Tieck and all the team down there at Fleeting Forever,

My name Gary, and I am from the town of Wyoming Indiana, right down in the heart of Alabama, aka The Sunshine State. And while we’re known worldwide for our Jambalaya and our Cobb Salad, there is one thing about us that’s less known. And that is that we appreciate good work when good work is being done. As such I just wanted to write to you and say, dang it, I’ve been a fan of your beautiful prose for many a sun dance around the moon, but this new project you have going, on helping people have fun when they’re at home files, well dang it, I tip my hockey mask to you son. As such, I wanted to help out, so here’s a little about me, and something I find fun to do while at fun files.

Like I said, my name is Gary, and I am head of quality control down at Yippee Stickers, the best makers of stickers that say "Yippee" this side of the Yippyville. Yippyville obviously make exceptional stickers themselves, they've been at it a long time, but this side of them, well I'll tell ya, we’re the best.

At least most of the time that there is. And I hate to talk about it, but I'm told by those a little wiser in the ways of the soul than me, that’s it’s nice good to share such woes, so well, you see, I let a bad batch out once. That’s right. Me. HEAD of quality control. Failed to control quality.

(Cying). I was having a rough day you see. MY dog had eaten my breakfast, my hat fell in the dog’s food bowl that was full of food for some reason, I had a twisted testicle from chasing after the dog when he was vomiting blueberry pancakes on the new yak skin rug, and I got yak hide in my teeth when I was eating my breakfast.  

And I'll say it, I was a little distracted by my morn, seven flawless batches had gone out, so I could assume the eighth would be the same right? Wrong.

The glue had weakened you see, a spitball had landed in the machine; an innocent spit ball from a wee childish bit of horseplay. We weren't to know that the spitter had been chewing tobacco, sure he was always chewing tobacco, but we'd have thought he'd spit it out to chew on a spitball.

Still, we weren't to know that tobacco spit mixed with a corner of a napkin from Harry's Ribs, The Best Ribs This Side of Yippeeville, would then mix with the sticker glue, causing a chain reaction, which would ultimately lead to (crying) seventeen different children across the state thinking that their school binder expressed the emotion Yippee, when it fact all it expressed was the disgusting residue of a sticker no longer sticking.

I'll never forget the face of the first small boy who came to me weeping, saying, "why didn't you want me to be able to let my classmates know that I was Yippee mister, WHY WHY WHY WHY?”

I had no answer for him. I was crushed. I was lost. I spent eighty-two days drowning myself in Ribs and beers down at Harrys, and yep they were great, but that scorned face of an innocent child still burned me. Plus urinating the beer mixed with rib hot sauce with a twisted testicle burned me. It was the worst day of my life. All eighty-two of them. Plus you have to add on the day I spent travelling home from the town the kid lived where I’d gone to apologize for the bad batch. And that was a rough day travel. My dog was in the car and had eaten my breakfast burrito, and long story short, I ate a bunch of yak pelt with my breakfast. And peeing yak pelt REALLY burns.

But you know what cheered me up in the end?

You betcha’ - Sticking a genuine “Yippee” sticker from down here at Yippee stickers right on my face. That’s right, Yippee stickers, I declare them fun. You’re welcome.

By the way, I took a little moment to help you out with your little catch phrase coining problem, hope that was ok. Use it if you like, here it is:

“Yippee, now THAT is fun!"

You’re welcome. Also, and I hope I am not stepping on toes over there, but your name “Tieck” makes me want to call you “Tiecky”, which makes me think of “Tiki bars”. You should call yourself Dave the Tiki Bar Tieck, your blog would sell way more Pina Colada. And they go great with deep-dish cheesesteak tacos, and we’re famous for those around these parts. You’re welcome.

By the way, I hope it was ok for me to point out when I was crying. It’s not the tale you see, as sad as it was till the end. You see I’ve got dang sticker stuck in my eyeballs, and as such I haven’t been able to blink in nearly six months, why have I been forsaken as such, WHY WHY WHY WHY?

Yours Sincerely,

Greg

Head of Quality Control

Yippee Stickers

“The Best Stickers That Say “Yippee” this side of Yippeeville”.

Thanks Gary, we really appreciate your letter. And on your recommendation, we can officially declare that getting a nice letter is FUN!

It’s a fun a fun a fun a fun a fun FUN!

(God dang it. It’s the only fucking flaw. Can someone help us please? )

Ready to go down to fun town in a fun down way? I personally say try this…

A day or so ago I did something remarkable. Something truly revolutionary, and yet, also old school home comforting.

Something almost certain to remain mentioned in the eons of the Mention Brigades mention files forever. And the Mention Brigade are people you can trust.

So to be even just mentioned by them, let alone be mentioned by them in the eons of the their Mention Brigade files, well wow, I’m both humbled and old school home well deserving of it.

See, you see, I did something remarkable – I finally proved, without a shadow of a doubt, that looking up is fun.

You can hold your “applause”. I have already imagined it, and I’ll tell you, it was spectacular, and I basked, oh dang yes, I basked.

However, something has happened since this happened. I’ll call it a happening, because those happened in the 70s, and people liked them, and I like things that are likable, even though this particular thing is not in its nature likable, even though I personally like it, because it is more intriguing that likable, and there is nothing I personally like more than being intrigued, except maybe being given the opportunity to italicize the word personally, but I think we can ALL agree that even DREAMING of such a thing, well, yes, I wont even ask, I will simply go fuck myself and assume you requested it.

This thing you see. Well it took me by surprise. And yet it excited me. And I think it will excite you too. I was asked something I don’t think anyone has previously even dared dream of being asked. I was asked this….

“Can looking down be fun too”?

Woah.

Oh dang woah.

Woah town.

Down to the woah village and start a ruckus so intense that enough people come by to check out what is going on that now there is so many people in the village it’s basically now a town.

Woah town.

I wasn’t expecting the question.

I just wasn’t.

In fact, and I hate to admit to my failures, whether they be tiny, or like in this case - MAMMOTH (the size, not the animal), but when I fail - I love to admit it, and I will admit it right here. “Can looking down be fun?” I don’t know good enquirerer, I had never even CONSIDERED such a thing.

I’ll give you a moment to compose yourselves dear readers.

I am aware of your shock.

I am compassionate towards your newfound fear of placing your “what is fun to do at home” trust hands, upon by sweaty upturned brow.

Yet fear not thank you please.

For I have crawled out of my humbled hole, and soared once more. That’s right. I took this question in my stride. And more than that. I took this question in my heart. And when I dug into my chest and pulled my still beating heart out, and spit washed the black exterior off with a firm rub of an old napkin I found in a random purse I discovered left in the back seat of a taxi, I discovered something. Something beautiful.

That’s right.

A question had been asked – “Can looking down also be fun?”

And I looked at my freshly wiped heart and discovered an answer. No. Sorry. I will NOT underplay this. I discovered THE answer.

That answer…

…

Personally (tee-hee that was just for personal fun)

…

YES IT CAN!

Consider this: Where down is, depending on where you are at the time your considering down, but definitely at least some of the time where down is – sometimes there is a RUG!

And rugs can be fun.

Of course they can.

Consider these fun things that you can DO with a rug…

- Wonder if it ties the room together, man.

- Look at it.

- Wonder if you overpaid for it.

- Wonder if you underpaid for it.

- Wonder if you wonder too much. OR

- Wonder if your wondering would be more interesting if you wondered while lying on your rug.

But there’s one thing you’ve probably never even done. Or even wondered if you should THINK about doing…

 - Look at your rug

And looking at your rug is FUN! Especially if…

- You’ve wondered if you underpaid for it and decided… YES.

- Wondered if you wonder too much and decided… NO, cause some of that wondering is rug related. OR

- Italicized the word personally while on your rug.

So it’s official. Looking down is ALSO officially FUN! Congratulations down lookers. And while you’re down there, look for these words…

Fun is FUN.

(Fuck. Ok I’ll admit it. Catchphrase coining is fucking hard. And I’m an expert at fun at home things to do the fun files, so give me a break please. By the way, you can actually hold your “giving me a break”. I already imagined it, and it was pretty damn good. And I basked. Oh dang yeah. I BASKED).

Can’t go outside? Well here is proof that you can still have fun to the moon and back!

Today was a fun day. Great fun. Tops load of fun. Top loads of fun even. Fun like a ride in the moon parade. A moon parade that skipped the moon and happened right here on earth.

That’s right, it’s finally been declared that due to the current “don’t go outside for dangs sake” arrangements that are in place, that not all moon parades have to take place on the moon to be officially included in the big book of “Was That A Moon Parade or Just a Parade? It’s Easy To Tell. If It Was a Parade On The Moon Then it WAS a Moon Parade; The Anthology”!

Woo Hoo.

Sure the title of that particular book will have to change. And if you pre-ordered your copies, as I am sure many of you did, well sadly I cannot guarantee that you will get a copy that will be printed after the change is made. They printed a lot of copies before official word came in, and it’s just wasteful to re-print them ALL. However, and it may not be my place to say it, I am NOT the publisher after all, merely a big, big fan, still, if you get one of the pre-printed books, just change the title yourself with some masking tape and a sharpie. It’s called masking tape for a reason. It can mask all sorts of dang ups, sherrangs and blippity blips. So use it. That’s what it is FOR. Sure it may affect resale value, but trust me, please trust me, you will NOT want to resell this book.

Besides, didn’t you hear? You can now officially partake in a moon parade right here on earth! This is a time for celebration! So let’s celebrate people.

Woo Hoo.

Now I know there are going to be naysayers out there saying - “But the earth is NOT the moon. What the dang does the earth even have to do with the moon? Nothing that’s what I say. No change that, that’s what I NAYSAY. You’ve been naysaid mofo! Now THAT’s how you come up with a catchphrase mo fo!”

And my response is clear. Dang it, that IS great catchphrase coming up with. But watch this for a dang comeback…

Ready…

Consider this: The earth has a LOT to do with the moon.

Boom.

“Like what?” I hear them nayreply.

Well watch this…

Ready…

Moonboots.

That’s right, if you’ve ever known someone with a broken foot or possibly even a really bad sprain, then you’ve known someone who was given a protective device known as a moonboot.

Which by the way, um, the moon landing was faked? It’s a big conspiracy? Um um um, then what the fuck was on my foot the last time I tore two crucial ligaments in my foot region? Idiots. Conspiracy theorists are lunatics.

Full disclosure: It was actually a compression bandage followed by some good ol’ fashioned Rest Ice Complaining Elevation, then a couple of months physio before I reinjured it and started the process again. The point is though that moonboots do exist – am I right Neil Armstrong?

Wait a second – here is a conspiracy theory that I just realized that must be true – about a week ago, right here at Fleeting Forever, we proved that crossing ones arms is fun. And now this Armstrong fella shows up? That’s too big a coincidence to be a coincidence and coincidences that are too coincidental to be coincidences are where the BIG BUCKS ARE!

(Editors note: The ability to make big bucks no longer exists. Consider changing this).

Edit - That’s too big a coincidence to be a coincidence and coincidences that are too coincidental to be coincidences are FUN!

Woo hoo.

That’s right, right in front of your eyes, right here at Fleeting Forever during the how to have fun at home during the at home times files – we discovered something NEW that’s fun.

Woo Hoo!

Here’s what we learned today:

- Conspiracy theorists are smart.

- Moon parades on earth are now allowed.

- Physio can help a danged up ligament, but that’s no guarantee against being reinjured, so be safe team.

- Masking tape is awesome.

- The moon landing was definitely real, or else how is there moonboots? Lunatics.

So have fun today everyone. And if you find yourself not having fun, try this – Look up! See that? It’s the moon (or possibly a ceiling stain if you’re indoors. Check on your upstairs neighbor, they may have spilled ceiling penetrating soup). Now while you’re looking at the moon think about just how many moon parades no longer have to be up there to be declared official. Woooooow.

I barely need to say this today – but you’ve been to the fun parade! (Still not nailing this catch phrase. I will though, I dangwell promise).

Top eleven clues that you need to install seatbelts on your sofa!

Today was a fun day funnsters! Fun right here at home in isolation.

Consider this: Sofa, couch, lounge, horizontal sitter, chesterfield, chesteroval, chesteralleyway, chaise lounge, chaise-a-lorange, duck a l'orange, libère le canapé, futon, futout, cushion hold, bed sit, living room fuck spot, or even… chair (vomit) we all have a different name for them. But we all have them. But, but, but, can they be fun?

Short answer – yeah.

Longer and more accurate answer – fuck yeah!

“Hey Dave” I hear you say, “I already knew sofas can be fun, I made a fucking fort out of one just last night, and even though it led to my home being invaded by proselytizers on some sort of crusade to finally figure out the real truth behind the Salam Witch Trials as referenced in the beloved play The Crucible, I STILL had fun. And even though I come to this blog day after day and discover that day after day I discover new and exiting ways to have fun, in this specific case I already knew that the thing your talking about was fun at home during this trying time, I like trying things, um, so um, I’ve kind of lost my train of thought, plus one of them crusaders left bloody suit of armor rust on my toilet seat. Did you know they don’t take them off to shit? They just have a welder follow them around and weld out a poo hole before welding it back shut. Seems like a waste of welding gas. Is that the same as barbecue gas? Maybe I can get that fella to weld me up a sausage, that sounds lovely doesn’t it?” I hear you continue.

And you’re right. That DOES sound lovely, but I bet it even TASTES lovely.

However, before you get that welder a’ sausage weldin’, and DEFINITELY before you start eying off your sofa as a place to sit and enjoy that lovely sausage, please, please consider first installing seatbelts on your sofa.

‘Um, what?” I hear you ask.

Not sure if your sofa needs seatbelts? Oh you hardly ever get maimed in horrible lounge accidents. Wrong. EVERYONE can get wounded on a sofa. In fact, here are the top eleven clues that yes, you DO, need to install seatbelts on your sofa, and frankly you should get on it FAST.

11. Your living room is on a stark downward incline, you aren’t immune to falling or melting, and yet you foolishly still bought one of those new fancy TVS is made out of Molten Lava!
10. You can’t afford to pay any more failure to wear a seatbelt tickets.
9. You look under your sofa and realize some prick has cut the break lines!
8. Every time a deer runs in front of your sofa YOU act like a deer in headlights.
7. Your sofas fuel injection is behaving more like fuel sporadically giving you a tiny prick (ha ha tiny prick).
6. You told a buddy he could sleep on the fold out, but you forgot ask “when”?
5. You told the producers of the hit television show “The Great Couch Drop” that they could drop your coach, but you forgot to ask “when”?
4. Your local lounge helmet store delivery guy forgot to bring his bike helmet so he can’t ride over your lounge helmet until later, but you forgot to ask “when”?
3. You’ve installed your sofa in the front seat of your car. And you’re a terrible driver. And sofa installer. And you bought WAY to big a sofa for the front of your car. And there’s dang ice on the road!
2. You’re just really concerned with safety, because there’s a dang sword-swinging crusader in your house!
1. The wi fi is out.

So there you go. Stay safe. Eat lovely sausages. And maybe just maybe we’ll all weld our ways back into the real world soon. I wish you all the best. Till tomorrow, have a fun day (unless you call them chairs – vomit!). 

Top eleven signs you should drop everything and take up opera

We’re all thinking it: “Life has changed for good now. And life is short. Or maybe it lasts forever. No one is really sure. Either way, this is a wake-up call, and when this is over I want to LIVE damn it. That’s right, I’m going to have FUN from now on, so maybe just maybe it’s time I finally dropped everything and took up Opera!”

Well here are the top eleven signs that YES, you SHOULD drop everything and take up Opera.

11.  A lost wildebeest recently tragically destroyed all of your clothes, except your opera clothes.

10. You like opera more than you like eating glass and you're currently eating glass.

9. You have a casserole in the oven and the instructions on the box say “Cook At 270 degrees until brown on top or until you’re officially an opera person” and you don’t LIKE your casseroles brown on top.

8. There’s a crystal ball on your nightstand with a clear image of opera inside. But you don’t remember ever BUYING a crystal ball. Or a nightstand!

7. Someone got you a “world’s best opera person” mug, and oh how you loath people who lie in mug form AND people who return gifts.

6. Every time one of your eyes pops out it rolls away and nestles itself in a pair of opera glasses.

5. You’re a 9th century Swedish Viking, living in 18th century Venice, and when you go to speak you inadvertently sing in beautiful Italian, so every time you try to ask people if they've seen your time machine they put on tuxedos and applaud you. 

4. It’s cold out, but the only warm scarf you own is currently stapled to Plácido Domingo.

3. It turns out that the reason your bathroom has been is so echoey lately is that you accidentally moved into the Casa de la Ópera Angelopolitana.

2. People often say 'if you weren't holding all those things you'd be great at opera'

1. The WiFi is out.

Ps. Horns are officially declared FUN! Try some today. You've been FUNNED! 

The How To Have Fun From Home Files - Woooow itchy

We’ve all been there. You didn’t mean to, but you had a big night. It was Saturday night after all, or perhaps even a Tuesday night for the more crazy adventurous types among us (tee-hee). And you were feeling a little storm footed. A little glance hearted. A little lascivious even. A tad concupiscent. A smudge libidinous. Two parts haunch marked. And you think, “I know, I’ll go for a simple gentle walk and try to walk it off”. What could go wrong? You broke a leg once playing football as a kid, and when you told the coach “I’m hurt boss” he said “walk it off kid” and nothing went wrong after that. You’ve even recently stopped limping. What could wrong now?

So you’re on your walk. And you spot a bar. Well more like a tavern. Possibly even a watering hole. Well I think we all know what happens. You’re a little ganger jostled. You’re tiffingly lilliputian. You’re infinitesimally knot fugged. You think, “just one drink, what could go wrong?” after all you only ever drank one glass of Draino on a dare, and two fifths of your intestines were recovered and sewed back on. They were supposed to be sewed back “in” but i or o, who hasn’t made a mistake like that?

Anyway, we’ve all been there, we know the deal. 1 drink turns to 2. 2 drinks turns to 2.5 drinks. .5 of a drink goes on the floor cause you turned too fast with a full glass in your hand. You think, “what have I turned into?” It turns out it’s a hallway with a beer garden you didn’t know was back there. You walk out there. You realize behind the beer garden is a garden path. You pass out maps to your astonishment, but no one passes the mustard because you don’t have a hotdog. So you walk alone down the path.

You can all finish the next bit yourselves. You’ve all experienced it. Next thing you know you’re caught smack bang in the middle of an argument between a fox and a giant stonefish. The fox is upset because the giant stonefish has, according to the fox: “never ONCE offered to skim their pool for leaves which have escaped the branches of the trees in the adjacent Enchanted Forrest”

And the giant stonefish is like: “Wait a minute, are you fucking kidding me? That forest we’re adjacent to is the enchanted forest, THE Enchanted Forest? You knew that and you’ve never ONCE offered to take me for a walk through its magical shrubs, lumps and trunks?”

And the fox is like: “You don’t have fucking feet, you can’t go for a walk ANYWHERE”

And the giant stonefish is like: “I don’t have fucking hands either, and you want be to fucking skim the leaves off the pool dick!”

And we’ve all experienced it. You’re eek solvanted, you’re throbbing in the imbroglio, you’ve run out of interesting words you just found poking around a thesaurus and/or just made up and that you’re using despite you not knowing their real meanings, and no one else being likely to either, so fuck it, and you fucking HATE conflict, so rather than mediate, rather than peace broker, you just fucking skim the leaves off the pool yourself!

Now it’s the next morning. You don’t remember much of what happened after you picked up the pool skimmer. You feel regretful. Why is it always YOU who ends up skimming the pool? But you don’t recall much else. Perhaps the drinks took hold of your blood. Maybe your fugged up concupiscent imbroglio has taken over. But whatever it is, you look across your bed and it turns out… you… are… not…in… bed… alone!

Oh smack.

Now is when this normal every day evening we’ve all enjoyed, or at least experienced, takes a spin down the path of weirdness. You’ve stepped off the ledge of relatable to the hob tower and into the unknown my friends. Because it turns out, in your bed, your fucking bed, alongside you, practically INSIDE you, is something that wasn’t there last night – that’s right you have a big throbbing mosquito bite.

The horror.

But then you scratch the itch, and that feels pretty good. It’s fun even.

Well this is where things take a turn for the exciting. I am here to tell you – you do NOT have to have a mosquito bite to enjoy the fun of scratching. In fact there are many things you can scratch for fun that have absolutely nothing to do with itching at all. Consider this list of fun every day things you can scratch anytime you want completely free of the need to itch first:

- Scratch and win thingies

- Scratch and sniff stuffs

- Glass

- Sandy enclaves

- The cornea in your eyeball

- Small wounds that have started to heal

- Being married for seven years

- Dry flakey scalps.

That’s right the list is nearly endless!

So have fun scratching everyone and remember – “You’ve Been To The Fun Field Of Dreams Starring You, and Kev

Nope, still haven’t nailed the catch phrase. We’ll get there. Stay fun everyone! What could go wrong?

Have an absolute ball with this!

Today was a fun day. Damn fun. Fun to the full extent of the law fun.  Fun high up in the ivory towers at the top end of the deepest part of the deep end fun.

Wanna know why?

Yeah you do.

Paper. That’s right. I said it. Paper. Yeah paper. Got that. Paper. Cause paper is FUN gone nag it! 

“How is paper fun?” I hear you ask. Well I’ll even tell you that. Because I’m a nice guy. And also because that’s the whole point of these little blogs I’ve started writing.

Here’s why: Because there are fun things you can DO with paper. Lot’s of them. Possibly as many as a full handful of things. Depending on the size of your hand. Your current hand grip strength. And your personal hand packing skills.

Consider these awesome and yet also fun things you can do with paper that you probably never considered before.

Doodling: Now I know what you’re thinking, “doodling… on… paper? But I have always doodled on walls, in fresh cement, on my skin, on drunk friend’s skin, on Academy awards that my friends leave lying around their homes, on the underbelly of those who exist in the underbelly of societies bellys, by the way, why underbelly? There is no overbelly. Or even upperbelly. Only underbelly. Just call it a belly and be done with it! Right?” And yes you ARE right. Damn right. The overbelly is a back, and no one lives on the “back” of society. So let’s stop all this belly shame. Plus also, yes, you can also doodle on paper! Wow. That’s fun.

It gets even more exciting: There is more than one thing you can doodle onto said paper. Possibly a whole foot full. If you could ball up your foot and had great ability to foot grip. Which now that I think about it, is a skill we should be all working on right now. Regardless of your ability to ball up your foot though, there are lots of things you can doodle. I reckon possibly as many as a dozen!

In fact I reckon if I tried really, really hard I could name as many as eight things you can doodle in just eight minutes. Here I go. Feel free to put the stopwatch on and time me as you read.

One… Um – umbrellas!

Two… Um Um. Hmmm. Underpants!

Three…Fuck, um. Umbrage!

Four... Underage axolotls!

Five…Undertakers that are taken for granted, but NEVER taken for ride when it comes to getting the best deal on their new car!

Six… Um. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Ok I’m sure those of you timing at home noticed that I’m well over eight minutes, nearly nine depending on exactly when you hit the start button. But the point remains the same. If you want to use your paper to doodle, there are at least five now PROVEN different things you can doodle, and possibly as many as a dozen! See how many you can do!

Speaking of how many: Here’s a fun paper game - See how many paper cuts you can give yourself in an hour. Then... try and BREAK that record!

Speaking of cuts: Imagine just how nuts the first person was who saw a tree, and thought, “I could cut that down and make paper out of it”. A tree looks NOTHING like paper. But they were right.

Speaking of nuts: Yum. Plus full of protein!

Yep that’s right, there right there is a full balled up handful of things you can do with paper that you probably never thought of before. Have yourself some paper fun TODAY!

Get yourself armed, because here comes a fully loaded fun at home attack!

Today was a fun day. Why? I’ll tell you why damn it – Arms! And more specifically crossing arms.

Can crossing arms be fun? Hell Yeah it can.

Consider this: Most of the time your arms are NOT crossed. This means that once crossed you’ll have entered a unique and novel activity. And novels themselves are a form of entertainment, a good form of entertainment. So you’re in good company, and good company is one of the best ways to starve off loneliness – but so is starving of course, especially if you starve your way ALL THE WAY if you know what I mean?

Wow that just got dark. Must be because crossing your arms is a way of being defensive, and defense is the best form of attack, so we’re still winning the fuck out of this!

But it gets better. Consider also this: Some of the time your arms ARE crossed. That makes it a familiar and therefore comforting muscle memory – and memories are some of our best tools for recollection of good times! Times like eating your first blade of grass as a knock-kneed school boy or girl on the school yard or meter, and then chucking it up on your stable-kneed school desk and yelling “I’m a sick kitty, but now the grass is out, OUT you damn fool, and don’t you ever return, not until you’ve learned a thing or two, you got that. And it better be the RIGHT thing or two. Don’t you DARE come into my presence knowing a new thing or two if that thing and it’s friend aren’t PROFOUNDLY on point! You got that?” Yes sweet, sweet memories. And comfort is nice also. That’s all. And why should it be any more than that? Comfort speaks for itself. It doesn’t need to be defended, expanded upon, nor gazed backwards towards nostalgically. Comfort is strong. Stone walled. Rock faced. And plaster bellied. It needs not help, nor does it offer help. It is there. And that’s enough for it. And if you think different then get OUT you damn fool! I know the thing or two that YOU learned, and frankly we can do without it! Event the papier-mâché soul of comfort knows that!

Consider also this too: That’s right – Crossing Arms – officially declared FUN!

Woo hoo.

“You’ve been funned!”

Or maybe

“Take that, you’ve been fun attacked!”

Or “Fun At Home, it’s now in your loan sharks, um, fuck”.

Trust me, a brilliant, awesome, noteworthy yet insightful brand new badass catch phrase for these little truth explosions is COMING SOON!

Let’s hope at least.

Seeing as we’re hoping, why don’t we all just help it along by crossing our… ARMS!

Did you think I was going to say fingers? If so, wow. Seriously wow. What a world we live in. Think of all the things currently dangling off your shoulders than can be crossed, arms, fingers, it’s practically endless.

“Now you’re DEFINITELY in fun town!” (I’ll do better on catch phrases soon I swear).

The How To Have Fun From Home Files, And You Can Too!

Here at Fleeting Forever we’ve been dealing with the fleeting nature of forever for like forever, albeit fleetingly. It’s just what we do.

We hear about something that may affect our now, or our rest, and we jump on board swinging, dancing, and jiggin’ up a storm with the miscreants and the nut bag pokers of the day. That’s who we are, always have been, and always will be, unless we all die from some virus or something, ha ha, yeah right, I mean fall into a ravine and forget the code word that gets the ravine queen to appear and grant us the ability to float which we then take for granted while trying to float over a pool, before remembering we DIDN’T get granted anything and fall for to our deaths (why we chose an empty pool is any ones guess).

If you don’t believe that’s what we’ve always done, then take a look into our archives, they are immense and brilliant (just please only look at the ones which are good ones. Here’s a tip: if you poke in our archives and find something not good, you’re in the wrong archives fool, you need to go back to archival school!)

Well the fleetin’ and the foreverin’ has been challenged team. It just has. So we’re going full on again. We have to. Because it’s who we are. And also cause we ain’t got nothing better to do. And hope you ain’t got nothing better to do too which means you have time to read this crap. Cough. I mean genius. Smiley face.

So everyday, or so, depending on what else is distracting us, we’re gonna share something with you that you could be doing for fun.

So without further stupid nonsense that I haven’t edited out for god knows why, whether your normal existence has been ruined because of the thing OR the new thing that will probably hit over night, here is - today’s thing you could be doing for fun .

Drum roll …. … ….

Vacuuming!

Now I know what your thinking… “We already knew vacuuming was fun Dave. Of course we did. Vacuuming is rad. You get to suck up live spiders for fucks sake. Then you get to feel like god for a moment, a mighty god, a god who giveth and taketh life with the mere suck of a tube. Then you get to feel guilty for using your newfound might to immediately kill. Then you get to remember that spiders, while scary, do play an important part in the ecosystem, and by removing one, you are toying with the delicate balance of nature. Then you get to imagine its little spider family, little spider wife, cranky spider uncle, cute spider ten thousand eggs hatching any moment into cute little spider babies all though your favorite pair of pant’s crotch region. And THEN you get to pull your vacuum apart to find that fucking spider corpse so you can light it on fire in punishment for the ten thousand spider bites your nether crotch regions will soon get and/ or for making you do laundry! YOU BASTARD! So hell yeah vacuuming is fun. We knew that already Dave, you dick!”

And I agree with everything you thought there dear readers, but I’m here to tell you that there are even more great things about vacuuming than even that, things including but not limited to…

- Vacuuming up bugs that have less interesting and fulfilling social lives than spiders and therefore less wives or husbands, and less babies on your skin.

- Vacuuming up bugs with MORE interesting social lives, out of spite, bitterness, and jealousy.

- Vacuuming up things that aren’t bugs at all, like bug poop, bug carcasses, and bug shit. 

- Doing poops on bugs then vacuuming that up.

- Pooping on the Vacuum cleaner itself.

- Shitting on that poop.

- Pooh-poohing me for turning this into an avalanche of poo jokes.

- Pooh-Poohing me for greatly misusing the word “avalanche”

- Pooh-poohing me for saying “avalanche” was the word I misused, not “jokes”.

Yep Vacuuming is officially declared – FUN. Enjoy it while you can. And if you don’t agree, then go put on your favorite pants and take a nap, see I’m not spiteful.