Who framed Roger Rabbit? And what’s the name
Of you left big toe? Who is buried in Grant’s tomb?
What’s new pussycat? Knock Knock. Who’s there?
What are you doing next Tuesday? What is your
Favorite flavor of ice cream? Boxers or briefs?
Do you have the time? Did it hurt – when you
Fell from Heaven? Blonde or Brunette?
Can you dig it? Who invented Post-It Notes?
What’s up? Going down? Need a lift?
What’s for dinner? Do you like fish sticks?
How can I miss you if you don’t go away?
How much dirt is in a hole with dimensions
2 feet by 3 feet by 7 feet?
Inspired by Maura Stanton’s Twenty Questions
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Journey Poem
Hole 18. Par 5. 461 yards.
Almost on in two, but hooked left.
Who cares?
I don’t – I can’t.
The only number
That has any meaning is ((3)).
No more hazards.
I now stood there beneath the tree. Focused.
I could see the Field. I knew the
Line. I anticipated the
Break.
No more roughs.
There was a light breeze on this bright day.
But beneath the tree,
I was shaded.
The branches had blocked the sun and all
Distractions.
No fair way.
I could not think of anything else. The past 17 holes
Mean nothing. Gone were the sounds of success
(Whoosh, Ping, Oooh, Aaah, Thwump, Whack) and
Failure (Chick, Snap, Crunch, Kurplunk, Oh).
No score.
Hands gripped to the club. Feet on the ground.
Arms up and followed through. Textbook
Swing. The ball bounces and rolls.
And rolls.
And rolls.
And rolls off.
No chance.
That was the moment I saw the most beautiful spectacle fly away:
An Eagle
Almost on in two, but hooked left.
Who cares?
I don’t – I can’t.
The only number
That has any meaning is ((3)).
No more hazards.
I now stood there beneath the tree. Focused.
I could see the Field. I knew the
Line. I anticipated the
Break.
No more roughs.
There was a light breeze on this bright day.
But beneath the tree,
I was shaded.
The branches had blocked the sun and all
Distractions.
No fair way.
I could not think of anything else. The past 17 holes
Mean nothing. Gone were the sounds of success
(Whoosh, Ping, Oooh, Aaah, Thwump, Whack) and
Failure (Chick, Snap, Crunch, Kurplunk, Oh).
No score.
Hands gripped to the club. Feet on the ground.
Arms up and followed through. Textbook
Swing. The ball bounces and rolls.
And rolls.
And rolls.
And rolls off.
No chance.
That was the moment I saw the most beautiful spectacle fly away:
An Eagle
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Feature Snippet
Riding the bus to class is the preferred method for some CMU students who live off-campus, but not for Josh Allard.
“You cannot guarantee that the bus arrives on time, and that was a big problem for me,” the Troy Junior said. “My first busing experience was unpleasant: it was warm, crowded, and it arrived late. I was very unhappy.”
Allard instead chooses to drive himself to campus, saying for him it is more comfortable, convenient and reliable.
“I can come and go as I please,” he said. “I can make sure I get to class on time, and that was the reason I stopped taking the bus after day one.”
Allard does recognize that for some students, it is the best method to reach campus, saying that is will save gas and help the environment.
“It isn’t a terrible choice,” he said. “It is the efficient choice, but unfortunately for me, I found that it wasn’t.”
“You cannot guarantee that the bus arrives on time, and that was a big problem for me,” the Troy Junior said. “My first busing experience was unpleasant: it was warm, crowded, and it arrived late. I was very unhappy.”
Allard instead chooses to drive himself to campus, saying for him it is more comfortable, convenient and reliable.
“I can come and go as I please,” he said. “I can make sure I get to class on time, and that was the reason I stopped taking the bus after day one.”
Allard does recognize that for some students, it is the best method to reach campus, saying that is will save gas and help the environment.
“It isn’t a terrible choice,” he said. “It is the efficient choice, but unfortunately for me, I found that it wasn’t.”
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Food Fight!
The spectacular soup snapped;
It was a triumphantly tasty treat.
While the licorice was lashed,
Giggles and guffaws glorified.
We wafted wavy waffles like
Colossal firecrackers clashing.
The icy Mississippi pop was an
Axis of mustachioed mastication,
Clicking like clockwork across the crowd.
Gooey gum grew into a ginormous glue of
Double Bubble trouble.
An expanding explosion ensued.
It was a triumphantly tasty treat.
While the licorice was lashed,
Giggles and guffaws glorified.
We wafted wavy waffles like
Colossal firecrackers clashing.
The icy Mississippi pop was an
Axis of mustachioed mastication,
Clicking like clockwork across the crowd.
Gooey gum grew into a ginormous glue of
Double Bubble trouble.
An expanding explosion ensued.
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