Miona and I were aghast at the conviction of Aaron's mumpsimus that scuppers are trash receptacles; but whereas I was too afraid of him to try to prove him otherwise, Miona mustered the courage to demonstrate how most garbage wouldn't fit by shoving a bottle of scuppernong in our boat's scupper.
I find it easy to vilify the chameleonic nature of my cat: he may seem healthy for a moment, lazing about contentedly, and then he up and hocks an enterolith with the varnished texture of decoupage- it's nasty!
(Correction) Sitting on the subway and reading a book about rhetoric, I was surprised to have my privacy encroached on by a fishwife with an iPad who said, with what I had just learned was asyndeton, "With that dead tree edition you are nothing but a hipster, a hopeless romantic, a behind-the-times good-for-nothing!"
Sitting on the subway and reading a book about rhetoric, I was surprised to have my privacy encroached on by a fishwife with an iPad who said, with what I had just learned was asyndeton, "You are nothing but a hipster, a hopeless romantic, a behind-the-times good-for-nothing!"
As a logomaniac, I am inordinately adverse to the phrase "salad dodgers"- I've noticed that many of these overweight people, such as those in the famously outlandish and revealing "Walmart habiliments", do not always balk at salad.
One of the major drawbacks of the peccary-drawn carriage was how insatiably rhizophagous peccaries can get; they slowed down so much to sniffle out roots that the postilion had to find some way to distract them, though our own postilion was too demure to find a distraction technique in which something phosphoresced and dazzled the peccaries.
By far the most important reason that attempts to pacify the entire world result in snafus is the inescapable oppressive power of atheophobic niggards.
Miona said her fear of whangdoodles and other unknowns made her a cockshy to most people, and that her green gown moment came only because her path of life decussated with that of Martin Verbal, a fellow whangdoodle believer.
Carine Ducepbregle, the volatile diseuse, threatened to force-feed the stage manager of the Think Theater vegetarian "chicken" nuggets when he considered vetoing her set design for her performance of Aperghis' "Recitations for solo voice": she wanted to stand on a floating dais suspended from the ceiling, but the staff stated that any accident related to this setup would cause great adversity- and now that she wasn't backing down, the situation had become a real tar baby!
Dr. Bernard Zweig, the niggler, should have been fired from this school's faculty years ago, when a heated discussion he had with James Herbert in the cafeteria, about whether the concept of "culture" was etic or emic, escalated into a full-scale logomachy in which Dr. Zweig started fustigating Mr. Herbert with a spoon- but the sequela of that incident was that Dr. Zweig could not be fired because nobody could replace him.
If you keep not being softly softly about your knowledge of rarely used animal names' origins any longer (I saw you loudly regale Jimmy and Frank with why the bushbaby is called "softly softly" in Krio and the wren's ancient Greek name was "Troglodytes"!), then you'll be thrown spang out and the generally hostile environment you'll encounter will make you wish you were a troglodyte on queer street!
I cannot fathom how someone with such a leviathan presence can quibble so much and still think of himself as a well-to-do, stubborn Stakhanovite!
Kurt's effrontery was often rather droll; people who did business with him over the phone were overawed by his barked, one-sided, strong-willed decisions and imagined they were talking to a looming leviathan, but when they met him they inevitably suppressed laughter at such a larger-than-life personality packed into such an exiguously scrawny frame.
Our party for the unofficial Grand Vernal Pool Tour consisted of three: Miona, whose long buff gams were often the center of attention and good for getting over boggy terrain; Kyle, who could be verbose but was typically quite informative on the subject of polliwogs and other vernal pool dwellers; and I, who had no previous bog or frog experience, but could (unlike the others) handle a backpack with a tumpline.
Don't come at me with that verbose "depleting the kine from the capacious barn" flapdoodle; just say "culling the herd"- that's what we call it here in the boondocks!
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