Stay Away from the Barn

Monday is "Case Lot Day" at Danny's Auction Barn, where you never know what they'll be selling.
All you know is that IF you win the bid, you'd better be prepared to buy the entire quantity of whatever the heck you just won.
Yeah, so we went to Danny's Auction Barn yesterday and we did okay, especially since I tried to prevent any major mistakes by repeating over and over on the car ride up there: "Don't buy any crap; don't buy any crap," and, like I said, we were doing just fine until they got to the cellophane wrapped tiny apple-shaped wicker baskets with miniature lime green notepads inside and he was trying to get twenty five cents a piece for them, only I thought he already had a twenty-five cent bid so I yelled out "thirty cents" and he didn't hear me, I guess, because he then lowered the price to twenty cents, which he called out hopefully and I yelled, extra loud this time, "Sure!"
The auctioneer looked right at me and said, "It's about time" and I wanted to protest, "You didn't even hear me when I bid 'thirty cents'!" but that was too long a sentence for an ongoing auction and so I had the bid at twenty cents and he kept trying to get anyone to outbid me, but no one did, which meant I was the proud new owner of twenty-four apple shaped wicker baskets with lime green, kidney bean shaped small pads of paper inside and his next question was: "How many orders do you want?
They are $4.80 a box and we have four boxes of them," and I, still feeling like I was getting some sort of deal, winning them for a mere twenty cents apiece, shouted back: "I'll take them all!"
Later, at home, I punctured the cellophane wrap on ninety-two miniature, apple shaped wicker baskets, which were made in China and had some sort of reddish brown paint flaking off them, rich in lead for sure, and whose lime green pads of paper smelled like mold, (in spite of the fact that each was individually wrapped in sharp shiny plastic), and I wondered where on earth they had found these things, and if they were some long lost leftovers from the flood that swamped Rhode Island last March and did they just now resurface from the deep dark corners of someone's storage facility, and my God they smelled incredibly bad, which meant there was nothing I could do except carefully pack all ninety-six baskets and ninety-six pads of paper back into the four cardboard boxes and carry them, in the rain, to the laughing mouth of the dumpster outside.

Wait, wait... I don't see any semicolons

What have you got there?
Let me see!
Is it six sentences long?
Does it make any sense?
So why aren't you happy with it?
You're fretting because you think that at least one of your sentences needs to be longer and you are wondering if I agree and can I answer your question without starting a new sentence and surprisingly I'm pretty sure I can, just like I am actually pretty sure there is no sort of requirement, either spoken or unspoken, that at least one of your six sentences be extremely long and unwieldy and held together rather shakily by an excessive number of semi-colons, which never, of course, fools anyone because all of us know that in the real world, a ridiculous run-on sentence like that would be chopped apart and reformatted into three or four sentences but if, on the other hand, you DID NOT write a really long sentence, that's really okay and no one, believe me, NO ONE is going to hold it against you.

Turn up the volume

The summer I was fourteen and had just made some new friends in New York, my mother packed us into the car, and drove us to the least populated part of New Hampshire.
We were only supposed to vacation there for July and August, but we wound up living there two and a half years.
In addition to losing my newly acquired friends, I was also torn away from rock and roll; even the radio air waves shrugged their shoulders and decided our farm was just too remote.
But when we got in the car, if the weather and the road elevation cooperated, we could sort out two different stations on the radio.
One perfect day, when the sun was shining, THAT SONG came on, loud and clear, and for a moment everything felt perfect until suddenly, the road shifted down, static started nipping at the edges of the song, and I reached the precise point in time where I had taken all that I could take of living in Nowhere, New Hampshire, so I tilted my head back and screamed: "Oh my God, Mom, stop the car!
Please Mom, please, will you just PULL OVER?"

Book of Faces

There are many things to love about Dave; first of all, he's very brave, especially when it comes to fighting the underground criminal element in far off places like Russia and Cuba and Italy. What I also love about Dave is the fact that he takes time away from all of his war-mongering to go to Las Vegas and win bagloads of money on the slot machines. He stays up late at night, (I don't know how!) and makes even MORE money, playing multiple rounds of poker. He says he uses his earnings to expand his farm and his restaurant and then he reinvests in his villa in Milan. There are many things to love about Dave. He's thoughtful and considerate and he remembers all of his friends' birthdays.

Tell us just a bit about yourself

I am not good at sitting still. I can not watch television without getting up from my chair and wandering off to other parts of the house. I forget to return to my seat once the commercial breaks are over. So I particularly appreciate the USA television network. They are very good about airing their newly-released shows, in multiple time slots, on multiple nights. This is a prayer answered for the attention deficit collective, who by day seven, have finally pieced together this week's episode of "White Collar."

Grab a Pencil

So the Six Sentence Social Society said, "Okay, Sure, you can be in our club." Groucho Marx once said he wasn't sure he'd want to be a member of any club that would have him, but I think, in this case, he'd have made an exception.
Wow, that was only two sentences long. But you know what? They also have a "Two Sentence Tuesday" thing. Don't get too excited, but I think we can do this!

So Much Harder Than It Ought To Be

And we're back! That's right, we were locked out of this blog for an entire year. Let's just say we have some unresolved issues when it comes to remembering e-mail addresses and passwords. And I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all of my friends and neighbors who stood by me and listened to those twelve months of fist pounding, as well as extending my profound apology for all of the profanity. So, uh, are we good then? What do you mean, "No!"?