Wait, you expect me to believe this whole factory — the entire thing, building, machinery, stock, even the staff — is made of cheesecake? No, my friend. I remember how I was fooled by tales of a factory made wholly of old spaghetti. I shall not buy into this.
No-Shave November. Celebrate the month by going thirty days using full ice cubes, or none at all. None of this shaved or chipped ice stuff.
NaNovember. Like November, but in one-billionth slices.
Hanovember. Celebrate the imperial court where Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz did his most significant avoidance of work for the Court of Hanover.
Napvember. A much-needed time to lie in bed while the afternoon sun’s warming your toesies.
Nullvember. 30 days in which we examine the byte patterns denoting the end of a string variable in C-based programming languages.
DiNovember. A whole month in which the most serious argument you have is about whether brontosaurus is the right name for them or not. (Note: we mean whether they’re the right name for brontosauruses. We all agree ‘brontosaurus’ is not the right name for kangaroos, Zach.)
No-No-November. Each day your life becomes an even-more-faithful adaptation of the smash Broadway hit No, No, Nanette.
Perry Comovember. Not limited to Perry Como but rather to learning about the originals of all the performers and movies you learned about from watching SCTV. Next week we compare The Towering Inferno to when they opened that super-skyscraper over Melonville!
Morevember. November, but it’s a 31-day month. Think of the possibilities.
Hypnovember. Thirty days, thirty right triangles, thirty hypotenuses!
San Marinovember. We all visit the tiny nation at once and see if we can’t make it tip over!
Renovember. Finally we do those little home-repair projects we’ve been putting off for eighteen years. … Maybe next month.
I’m trying to get back into writing short stuff, but, you know. I’m out of practice. Is this a thing?
The dragon was nonplussed by the offering of a vast quantity of fish. after a lot of thought the dragon explained, “You must have got something wrong … I don’t have a hoard of herring. I’m just a little deaf in this ear.”
Anyway please let me know on a scale of things, ranging from “a small thing” such as maybe an apple slicer through to “a reasonable-sized thing” such as a loaf of ciabatta bread. On looking back over this, also, I’m not sure I’m not just hungry.
Wicktober. A public-safety month in which we go around to all the candles in our house and make sure each of them still works when lit.
Slicktober. Finally our most elaborate scheme comes off without a hitch and it looks effortless.
Talktober. “Talk Talk”, by Talk Talk, spends 31 days playing in your head.
Yaktober. Don’t let the name fool you; it’s a chance to celebrate all the Warner Siblings.
Marktober. Spending all this time getting worried that the spell checker allowed “Marktober” through as a word that it thinks somehow is spelled correctly even though it refuses to help me any with the spelling of Cincinn .. Cinci … Cincinat … that big city in southwestern Ohio where WKRP broadcast from.
Smocktober. Unleash the artist within without getting it all over your nice t-shirt!
Hawktober. A whole month to try selling other people your wares, perhaps foodstuffs of some manner! Good luck!
Woktober. We enjoy great pots of melted cheese that we dip bread into. The name is because “Fonduetober” doesn’t scan.
Bricktober. Unleash the chimney-repairman within without getting it all over your nice smock!
Socktober. A month that feels as good to take off as it does to put on!
Marktober. Trying a second time to spend the month — oh, look, “Marktober” has the same cadence as “Hot Blooded” and now that song’s competing with “Talk Talk”. Sorry.
Stoptober. Persons close to you have leave to say what they’re tired of, which is mostly persons close to me, and this whole October promotions thing.
Rocktober. Self-explanatory, you’d think, but all right. Everybody’s into geology.
Shocktober. A whole month spent distinguishing between behing shocked and merely being startled.
Mocktober. The month for spoofs (good-natured).
Locktober. Three weeks we waste trying to remember the combination. It is 11-4-69.
Blocktober. The floor is covered in Legos.
Clocktober. We all engage in clock- and watch-themed crimes to overwhelm the Caped Crusader!
Spocktober. 31 days of serious inquiry into Dr Benjamin Spock’s program and how it differed from what the people trying to follow his guidance differed, with the final question about whether he was a net positive or negative force answered once and for all on the 29th, by a paintball fight. 9 pm Eastern/6 pm Pacific.
Hard Mocktober. The month for spoofs (nasty and a touch bitter).
Octoctober. You have eight arms! Finally! I mean that you can show.
Stocktober. You lay in enough durable supplies for the winter ahead, as it’s a bit late to lay them in for hte summer behind.
Docktober. We finally get all these breakbulk goods off these cargo ships.
Socktober. Finally something warm and comfortable on our feet.
Reference: Greetings, Carbon-Based Bipeds!, Arthur C Clarke.
Our pet rabbit has hay fever, which I agree seems inefficient for a rabbit. But she gets these sneezing fits sometimes, with this week one of those times. Fortunately the treatment is a bit of children’s cough syrup. And even more fortunately she loves children’s cough syrup, even more than she loves collard greens, life itself, or intimidating my love’s parents’ dogs. To set your expectations about that last one, though, you should know one of those dogs is intimidated by a potato chips bowl that’s somewhat large. The point is it’s quite easy to give our pet rabbit cough syrup. It’s maybe easier than not giving her cough syrup. She’s that enthusiastic about it.
Last night right after finishing her medicine, she sneezed three quick times. My love quipped about why the rabbit would do that right after having her medicine. I had guesses. “Maybe she wants more syrup? Maybe she’s a hypochondriac?” And then I realized, and gasped, and said, “Oh, no!”, my tone worrying my love.
I diagnosed, “Our rabbit has Bunchausen syndrome”.
I want to make some joke about how ‘honest’ implies the existence of words ‘honer’ and ‘hone’ except I’m feeling not 100% sure that isn’t how we got ‘honor’ in there and I don’t want to look it up. Sorry.
You know, if The Family Circus never did a strip where one of the kids was telling another that last year’s Thanksgiving is properly referred to as “Thanksgiven” then the Keanes missed a major opportunity.
Would it do anything useful to shortening my average post length if we could turn the word “awkward” into “awayward” for some reason? If not, why did I typo “awkward” as “awayward” repeatedly, then? Huh?
You know, if we just got together we could make “quench” into a strong verb, so that its tenses changed the sound, and then any of us would be able to say that by getting that satisfactory drink, “I quanch my thirst”.
I paid, I assume, good money to have a spell checker somewhere on my computer so why is it letting me get away with listing “trange” as a word? It won’t give me any guidance in how to spell “Cincinnati”, which I’ve done with as many as two n’s, three c’s, and fourteen n’s; what do I even have it for? Complaining that I write “Olive Oyl” in 2019?