Brand New Thoughts

Anyone here ever had thoughts? I have. 

In fact, I’ve been thinking about thoughts today which has me thoughting, that we’ve all heard of old thoughts right? Some of us may even have them ourselves, often as often one or two times in our life time OR even more often. 

I’m just regular every day old thoughts, thoughts like…

“If I owned pants I’d totally put them on at this buffet, cause then I could put some of the food in my PANTS” 

“Anyone know where I left my pants? Oh that’s right, I don’t own any."

"I just don’t get why I keep getting thrown out of buffets?"

"Is that a dolphin, how did a DOLPHIN get in this elevator, oh wait, ha ha, that’s not a dolphin, duh, it’s a marlin, of course… they can press the buttons with their spear noses, wait is that Marlin giving that dinosaur an ear piercing, yes, yes it is"... or 

"So you’re telling me that I’m getting kicked out of this buffet for 'dress rules' and yet a dinosaur with a damn EAR PIERCING is allowed to stay"!! 

Well those thoughts are all awesome, and yet they are … old. And I have had enough, I am ready for some new thoughts, brand new, fresh off the noggin' thought, so far untarnished by explanation, reputation, and undulation. 

I know it sounds impossible, but right now, me, Davey "Tiger" T, is going to attempt, to have a NEW thought, a completely new thought, the first new thought any human has had since 1612. 

To make it even harder, I am putting just three minutes on the clock to achieve this, starting… 

Now 

Um 

• pants but with like a bit of the pants that’s not usually on pants like a collar, but with no starch but you can pop it up, but it is hard to put a tie in.. fuck no
• Um. Instead of whistling along to a song, have a song take you to the movies and buy you popcorn and then later maybe you and the song can take an accounting course together, wait.. a NIGHT accounting course, ooh La La.. no fuck 
• Three frogs that like to pretend to be roads, no no no, FOUR frogs that’s like to pretend to be toads, but then it turns out one of them doesn’t even know what a toad is, so is really bad at it, but they are good at being roads, what no.. 
• Toad buffet in PANTS! 

Time. 

Fuck. Those were all also old thoughts. 

So I think we’ve answered this one. New thoughts is not new at all, because we’ve all already thought all the thoughts and made them old thoughts. 

Sorry everyone. 

Ps. If YOU have a new thought, let us here at the fantastical hear about it. 

Pps. Please note: The marlin giving a dinosaur an ear piercing was included in this blog as a mere illustration of clear normality, please do NOT take this as a sign that you can easily get a marlin to pierce the ear of YOUR dinosaur, unless you’re happy to be considered old news, and/ or you’re just all stuck in an elevator together and you have nothing better to do. 

Ppps. But if that is the case, try to get the marlin to use it’s nose spear to press the button for floor 72 - ha ha - I bet it can’t,  cause most buildings don’t even go that high!

In conclusion: 

If you ever see a dolphin wearing pants at your local buffet, just change your whole plan of attack, cause there aint NO WAY your getting any shrimp. 

Poem - The Nervous Type

Doug is the nervous type. 

The type who every time he hears a car near him slow down for a speed bump he first assumes they are slowing down to get him! - Or tell him off - Or tell him HE should go get someone - Or try to sell him lemons. 

And he doesn’t need any fucking lemons most of the time. 

But other times, in the sometimes worlds

 He DOES need lemons 

Which makes it all the more suspicious 

“Who TOLD you I need lemons” he’d scream, “also how much?” He’d asks.

He might NEED lemons, but he was not someone who would over pay for lemons 

“This lemon chicken is bland dad” his kid might say

“Well I’m not paying $16 for tipped off stalker car lemon, no way” he might reply. 

He’d be lying though.

He could never turn down lemons.

Even when convinced it was a ploy to kidnap him.

Which it rarely was though.

At least 80% of the time it wasn’t.

According to him.

Anyway…

He said if we told you that you’d know we really had him. 

We want a million bucks in unmarked cash or he dies.

And please hurry, this prick is convinced we’re just doing this to try and negotiate a higher price for a bag of lemons. 

But we’re not.

We promise.

Frankly, if you give us the million then he can fucking have the lemons. 

                        Doug (before eating lemons) 

Harriet was having a nice day… - A Poem

Harriet was having a nice day. 

That’s a nice start isn’t. 

Especially for Harriet. 

Who as far as we know is a perfectly lovely person. 

Although it’s a bit cheeky for us to assume that. 

I mean she seems nice. 

But all we know about her is her name. 

We put too much on names don’t you think?

But then again, and I don’t know if this is true for everyone’s experiences with Harriets,

However 99 of the 100 Harriet’s I’VE personally met have been total utter assholes. 

Then again I met most of them at a “100 Harriet’s for genocide” convention. 

So the odds were stacked. 

I’m my defense (and it turns out, also in defense of ONE of the Harriet’s) I thought I was going to a “hair nets for Jen’s campaign to end the off side rule in soccer aka football” convention.

Or the “100 Hair Nets for Jens On Side” convention as the t-shirts called it. 

The idea was that if participants wore hair nets Jen, who was the hero of the occasion, would be probably happy, because she’d once found a hair in her pasta and didn’t like it much. 

Although in that case it was angel hair pasta, and the chef was a real sweet heart, almost heavenly so. 

So his hair, to be fair, fulfilled the brief of the menu description.

So look, everyone has fucked up occasionally.  

Although not the one Harriet I met at the genocide convention who also thought she was going to the Jen on side convention. 

Because that Harriet WAS a hair net.

A fucking good one too. 

She’d worked in handful of the best restaurants in the world and on literally dozens of heads, and . Not . One . Hair . Had ever been found in the food on HER watch - ever. 

Which is almost UNHEARD of in hair net squares. 

(They don’t like to call their “circles” circles, it reminds them too much of heads, and they need just a little break from those occasionally, and fair enough). 

Plus Harriet the Hair Net was one of he hairnets at Jen On Side who was MOST supportive of the end the offside rule campaign!

Let’s face it many of the hair nets there were there just for the gig, and maybe a day out of the kitchen. 

Well not Harriet the hair net, she was ALL for ending the offside rule. 

She’d even waived her fee for the event. 

This DESPITE having two siblings and SEVEN cousins working as goal nets at the time, five in soccer aka football, and three in field hockey. 

And all of whom were facing WAY more wear and tear if the offside rule was removed.

That was Jens whole point after all. 

More goals. 

And more goals means the nets get an absolute battering.

But that’s family man. 

And that’s support (and again, in fairness, you don’t even make it to the top as a soccer, football or hockey net if you’re NOT great at support). 

So yeah Harriet, the original Harriet of this story, was having a nice day… 

She was. 

Out on a boat. 

The sun shining. 

The waves gentle and even a tad rollicking. 

But it was all about to change. 

Because THIS Harriet was a fishing net. 

And a fisherman on this boat had just hooked onto an entire fucking kitchen nook someone had dumped in the ocean. 

With ALL the fix-uns. 

And Harriet was about to be used to net in a Kitchen Aid 4.8L, stand mixer in beautiful cherry red. 

This was going to go down in history as one of the most unique nettings of all time. 

Harriet’s nice day, was about to go down in net folklore. 

Hell yeah! 

That’s a nice end isn’t it. 

Especially for original Harriet.

Who as far as we know, is a perfectly nice net. 

That's a nice ending, isn't it?

The end 

Gob - A Poem

“Why don’t you shut your gob”

Yelled a heckler, at a man on a tram, on a phone call trying to talk to his bank to cancel his recently stolen credit card. 

“Maybe I will” he muttered to himself under his breath, once he was put on hold, once again. 

“I’ll probably starve to death in about a week” he pondering inaudibly.

“I bet you’d feel real bad then, wouldn’t you” he grumbled quietly, yet triumphantly. 

“Well I won THAT one” he said to himself with a smile when he got off the tram. 

It was the highlight of his week.

The end 

Note: An alternative version of this fictional story went like this 

So he did shut his gob. 

Permanently. 

About a week later he was delirious with hunger, and slowly fading towards the end. 

“I bet that heckler feels real bad about now” he muttered out loud triumphantly. 

Although, if he was really honest with himself, it was probably the credit card thief he was more annoyed with. 

Later a neighborhood rat ate the pinky toe off his corpse. 

Conclusion: 

Poetry sure can be bleak! 

Note 2: In no version of this poem did the man ever not get put on hold by his bank. 

Conclusion: 

Poetry sure can be bleak. 

Join us again tomorrow, where the topic may or may not be - Is Poetry Bleak sometimes? 

Wait, no that won’t be the topic, we’ve already established that. It IS bleak sometimes! 

We’ve concluded that TRIUMPHANTLY! 

Oooh, that means the topic is WIDE OPEN - exciting! Woo hoo!