January 11, 2007

I Would Walk 500 Miles

New at Flumadiddle

I've started receiving spam at work. Not the oh so delectable, gourmet, melts in your mouth, faux meat Spam that tastes like turds, but the oh so delectable unsolicited email spam that tastes like turds. This spam comes with random sentences put together in a paragraph. I think these non-sensical paragraphs are the spammers' way of bypassing filters. (Spam is maps backwards, by the way.) I find these ramblings fascinating. There's just something about them that draws me in. It's as though they hold the elusive truths of the universe and if you just look deep enough you'll know the answers to every question that's ever been asked. You will be one with everything. You will be the universe. I feel it is my duty to share the power of spam with you. It will be like a meditation or a mantra that opens doors to worlds unimagined by our limited, pre-spam minds. We'll start with our first one. Are you ready? Are you sure? Okay. Here we go.

Zen in the Art of Spamming (My profuse apologies to Ray Bradbury for this title)

"You got a hose, but the car you pick for the free donation has got a locking gas-cap."

Whoa. That is so way totally deep. It's telling us that as we walk through life, sometimes we're going to get royally fucked, so whenever we get free stuff we should lock it up.

Fun at the Office

We had a guy come in today to fill out an application. He approached my desk: "Are y'uns doin' any hirin'?" And it took him roughly 4 minutes to get that out.

I had to refrain from replying, "Well, bless your sweet, grit-eatin' heart. We sher 'nuff is hirin'. You just sit down over yonder a spell and fill out this here application and we'll see iffen we can't work us up a job fer ya. While yer doin' that, I'll just fix you up a mess of butter beans and cornbread and fatten you up a mite. You sher is skinny. You need some meat on them bones, 'cause you'd blow plumb clean away iffen a good wind were to hit yer backside. Do you take lemon in yer sweet tea, darlin'?"

Sometimes I scare myself when I channel my Aunt Jin who really wasn't my aunt, but was instead my father's first wife's mother's sister. Which made her zip to me. But that's exactly the way she talked.

Church Sign O' the Week

"Exercise daily - Walk with the Lord."

Church sign guy has a resolution for 2007. He's going to start walking with Jesus. That's right. Church sign guy and Jesus are going to be a walking team, and they've invited us to join them! Do you think Jesus walks in his tunic-robe-dress thingy or does he opt for something totally stylin' like this?

On a side note, what do you think Richard was thinking the exact moment this shot was taken? I'm thinking it has something to do with Mr. Bojangles and the boys damn near flopping out of his little, striped granny-panty shorts.

Anyway, back to exercising with Jesus. Hey! I just realized that you can exercise AND exorcise with Jesus. He's multi-purpose. I will agree to be on the Jesus walking team as long as J Dawg promises not to lug a cross around. Not only would it be embarrassing, but the whole martyr act is wearing thin, JC. Seriously dude. Time for papa to get a brand new bag.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who would walk 500 more.


  1. YOU , are my new favorite blog. Thanks to you I've put Arkansas back on the map.

  2. Thanks, Carla. I'm glad you found my corner of insanity.

    Did you hear that Arkansas? You are back on the map. You can thank me now.

  3. I'm at the top of your list of Daily Bread! I win at life!!! Huzzah!

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  5. You have made an entertaining blog post about Spam. The photos made me laugh.


  6. Everyone in Arkansas has had sex with Sam Walton.

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  9. Wow Babs! The turnstile's just a spinnin' today. This is the place to be! Tourists, cool kids, financial advisors...

    I'm fascinated with that word - y'uns - as in - "y'uns doin any hirin". May I presume this is a contraction of "you ones"?

    Are you ones doing any hiring? Is that correct? It's priceless! I love it!

    There was something earlier that tickled the eardrums in a big way. "...smashing on the dash". And I'm sure it was you who said it though I can't recall the context. I hadn't heard anything so enticing since the phrase "Ficus in the bathroom" which immediately prompted me to write a rather insane poem - sort of a Dr. Seuss on Chrystal Meth affair. I'm afraid I'm compelled to steal "smashing on the dash" for the same purpose. I can't resist. Hope you don't mind. Perhaps I'll publish a whole collection one day - 'Rhyming Poems for Psychotic or Deranged Children'. Something like that. I can't explain it. It's like a calling from a higher power...

    Oh dear - tired - rambling - must sleep...

  10. Eeeeekkk - You have indeed won at life. Congratulatory drinks all around for reaching such a lofty life goal.

    Stephen - I must correct you. Everyone in Arkansas has had anal sex with Sam Walton.

    Fwig - It has been busy here today, hasn't it? I had no idea so many people were worried about my financial welfare.

    I'm going to have to post about "y'uns" because I really don't know what it's supposed to be a contraction of.

    "Smashing on the dash" is, of course, my euphemism for "spanking the monkey". Did I really use the phrase "smashing on the dash"? No mind, please please post your poem when it is complete.

    Did you see that? I damn near begged.

    Your book idea is brilliant. I would buy 25 copies myself.

  11. Sorry Babs. You caught me mis-quoting. The phrase was "...smashing on your dash". You were replying to Kathleen and said:

    "I think a Jesus bobblehead would look smashing on your dash right next to a hula girl."

    I had no idea that you and Kats were covertly discussing masturbation. Amazing - the things that go on under your very nose in subversive places like this.

  12. Fiwg - Oh, you'd be surprised how many times I covertly discuss all manner of perversions.

    I could be doing it right now, and you wouldn't know.