At the bakery in the market, the woman behind the counter always calls me “scrumple.” Like, “Whaddya need today scrumple?” “Try this this sample you scrumple you.” Not only is it weird, but it sounds like a baked good, and I just don’t like the insinuation that I have the same name as the things she sells.
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“I want every day of my life to look like a postcard,” he told me.
“That’d be good,” I said. “Then you could buy the cheaper stamps.”
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I heard this on the bus: “I just feel like we’re adults now. We can’t just go off and start stealing cars all of a sudden.”
Kids will be kids, that’s what I always think when I hear about motor vehicle theft.
Your couplets remind me of a trip to Vail we made during the summer when we were just at the point of being able to afford doing that with the three of you (my guess is you were 4 or 5), and we were on a tram in the Vail Village, and Heidi wanted to do something, and I cavalierly commented that my father in his old age would say “Sure, I have money I haven’t even spent yet.”
To which a somewhat forlorn but obviously well employed tram companion sitting near us said, “I know, I’m spending money I haven’t even earned yet.”
“kids will be monsters”
I think people who coin and then exclusively use nicknames, like
Geo. W. Bush, to be just damned disrespectful