We just passed a small town: Osino
On 80, which goes straight through Reno.
Does it seem strange to you
That Nevada has two
Of these places, that rhyme with casino?
Category Archives: Strange and Silly
Marooned!
We’re stuck in the library here,
The problem is liquid, I fear.
It’s raining like cats
And dogs. We’ve no hats,
So we’ll just have to read ’til it’s clear.
Round-robin ping-pong
The room filled with much merry sound,
Three sisters who mooned as they clowned,
The game was revamped,
We laughed and we stamped,
As ping-pong was played in the round.
We discovered a fun way to play ping-pong at Highlands pub in Eugene. Four people play round-robin, each one hitting the ball once and then rushing around the table to the other side. The results were a few collisions and some hilarious video footage. Do not try this in a pub with dartboards!
Vroom, vroom!
Squid are creatures that live in the deep,
Not a sound as they swim and they creep.
I was shocked to the core,
When I heard my squid roar,
‘Twas a miracle, wrought by my Peep.
Barry, who I sometimes call “Peep,” wrote about this event in his usual understated fashion in his recent blog entry.
Here’s a fabulous response from our friend Pat, who lives in NC:
A wagon that roars and squirts ink
(Not oil, of that let’s not think)
will ferry you back to your boat
and shlep all the stuff it will will float.
Please stop by so we can see you and wink!
Time to take it down?
If only we’d gone out of town,
And cut a fresh Christmas tree down.
This grocery store tree,
Once looked fine to me.
But now, tell me, why is it brown?
Pronounced just like it’s spelled?
Strange names around here are in vogue,
Calibogue is not “Calibog,”
And “Falcon” I get,
But “Rougue” makes me fret,
Should it be “rouge” as red, or just “rogue?”
We had our test sail aboard the Falcon Rougue yesterday, and we’re still in the dark about how the name is pronounced. Is “rougue” a clever play on the red hull, or just a misspelling? Either way, it doesn’t quite rhyme with the place we sailed — Calibogue Sound is sometimes (by golf freaks) pronounced Cal-i-BOGEY.
It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s a Newfie!
While driving around, by and by,
We spotted some doors 8 feet high.
Not sure what’s the reason —
Are stairs out of season?
Or maybe these Newfies can fly!
This limerick illustrates one of my favorite travel mysteries. Why do people in Newfoundland have front doors many feet in the air? I asked a number of local residents, and they just scratched their heads. Then one fellow, who was particularly fast on his feet, said with a grin, “We call those ‘Mother-in-law doors’.”
A Burning desire to write limericks
Everything mentioned in the following rhymes is absolutely TRUE. Burning Man really is that weird, and that inspirational. At least, it inspires crazy Burning Man limericks!
Are these fellows really our males?
They’re wearing pink wigs and cat’s tails,
And crazy orange shirts,
With bright sequined skirts,
At Burning Man, weirdness prevails.
In fishnets and boots with high heels,
I jump on my spiffy pink wheels,
My seashell bikini,
Might score a martini,
Because of the skin it reveals.
A huge pterodactyl walked by,
He towered 12 feet in the sky,
And Dave’s disco ball,
Which held us in thrall,
On Barry’s bike, then caught his eye.
The dust storm came out of the blue,
I knew then just what I should do,
“There’s room here, to hide,”
I pulled him inside,
A handicapped toilet for two.
They blew up the derrick last night,
The mushroom cloud: What a cool sight!
And over the sound,
Of “techno” all ’round,
I heard, “Holy sh*t, that was bright!”
Opening day of what in May?
I went out yesterday on a lovely little 1947 Chris Craft to celebrate the “Opening Day of Boating Season.” Given the limerick below, it’s appropriate that the boat’s name is “Flagrante Delicto.”
There’s a poem that starts out “Hooray,”
And the word that rhymes with it is “May,”
If you know what I mean,
Then I won’t be obscene,
Outdoor boating is what starts today.
My essay last year about Beltane and other early-May holidays even used “Hooray, Hooray, the first of May” as a title…but I never published the rest of the poem.
Hospital room blues
Dedicated to a dedicated reader:
The good fellow Tara calls “Dad,”
Said, “Room service here is so bad,
“I asked for a steak,
“They gave me an ache!”
A good time by all was not had.
I always joke about the fact that there are only two people reading this website. This limerick is dedicated to one of them, and the postscript is here so the other one will get the joke!
Clarence is currently having a spot of bother at a hospital in Columbus, Ohio. I hope he gets well soon, so he can outrun the nurses. I bet I know who will be driving his getaway car…