Hello! Today is Thursday which means that today is not yesterday and yesterday could never be today because the definition of yesterday says so. That's like saying ice cream I ate yesterday would be fresh in the freezer today. It just doesn't work. If I had a nickel for every time I used that analogy to explain what yesterday is, I'd have like negative thirty nickels. I don't mean the 5 cent USD coin. I mean the medal. I would have zero nickel if I told that analogy thirty more times. Like seriously, who designed that?
If people who lived in Grand Rapids knew the quotient, they'd know the quotient. That is to say, people who lived in other parts of Nebraska wouldn't know the quotient. Hey I bet you didn't notice that I started this post with another G. Nebraskierian folk don't take too kindly to knowing quotients. I guess Grand Rapids is keen on the quotient matter. Madder is a word. I don't know what madder means, but I assume the definition would be something like, 'Madder is someone who Maddens'. Is it a verb, a noun, or a giraffe? The world may never know. All I know is that, that, that that, that, thating, that.
Welcome to the third paragraph! As you can probably tell by that, I have no idea what to write for this. So I shall write words that dance around actual things to write about. And I will continue explaining that I have no idea what to write about. I hope that you continue reading because this is the part where I continue to say things that only relate to my inability to say things. This is because the IRS. I'm bound by contract to not say things, but I can say things about my not being able to say things. That's called cannibalism. Wait, don't quote me on that. I wasn't supposed to say things. Poop.
So, as you may have known, Grand Rapids is not in Nebraska. Well, all I have to say to you then, is. So now get out. You are not wanted. You, with the long nose shaped like a pine tree. You need to leave. I don't care if you think Grand Rapids doesn't like quotients. You're wrong. Noodles.
-Griffin
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Gravy
I'm sick today so I didn't really feel like writing a post. But now I'm writing a post so I guess I'll just have to deal with it. The main reason I forced myself into writing a post is because I wanted there to be three G's in the last two titles of posts here on Abflats. Gravy is going to have nothing to do with this post. I just wanted to get another word that started with G. Also, I found out that Paul McCartney is not an alien. He could have fooled me. Well, I guess he could still be one of those guys that the Men in Black keep secret. Like Silvester Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger, but I highly doubt it.
Did you hear about those Russians? I hear they're Russian. At any rate, Russians will be Russian normally all the time. Unless they're Ukrainian. Then they'll just party all the time and you won't ever be able to ask them about their nationality. It would be quite strange if a Ukrainian and a Russian walked into a bar. Hey, I just created the start of a joke. Someone needs to finish it because I don't have the energy. It was also raining this morning. But now it's still raining. I probably could have worded that one better.
Did I tell you about the time I wrote two paragraphs in a row that started with the word 'did'? Because I just did. Did. How many dids could a do not does if a did do dots go woof? What am I even talking about anymore. That was a statement. If anyone reads this, don't read this. This is just, not.
For some reason my enter key stopped working for Blogspot. It took me about 10 enters to get down to this line to make another paragraph. I was going to talk about tires in this paragraph, but I had not anticipated my enter key's lack of ability to register on this website. How sad this world has become. I now refuse to talk about tires. Mostly because I can't think of anything about tires to say, other than their ability to take over small towns. They also have the ability to transform into trees, but they can't change back into tires after that. I wonder how many trees in this world used to be tires. Oh well.
-Griffin
Did you hear about those Russians? I hear they're Russian. At any rate, Russians will be Russian normally all the time. Unless they're Ukrainian. Then they'll just party all the time and you won't ever be able to ask them about their nationality. It would be quite strange if a Ukrainian and a Russian walked into a bar. Hey, I just created the start of a joke. Someone needs to finish it because I don't have the energy. It was also raining this morning. But now it's still raining. I probably could have worded that one better.
Did I tell you about the time I wrote two paragraphs in a row that started with the word 'did'? Because I just did. Did. How many dids could a do not does if a did do dots go woof? What am I even talking about anymore. That was a statement. If anyone reads this, don't read this. This is just, not.
For some reason my enter key stopped working for Blogspot. It took me about 10 enters to get down to this line to make another paragraph. I was going to talk about tires in this paragraph, but I had not anticipated my enter key's lack of ability to register on this website. How sad this world has become. I now refuse to talk about tires. Mostly because I can't think of anything about tires to say, other than their ability to take over small towns. They also have the ability to transform into trees, but they can't change back into tires after that. I wonder how many trees in this world used to be tires. Oh well.
-Griffin
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Golden Grandpa
Oh! Hi! You're alive still! I was wondering because of that thing that happened. You know, the giant domino raiding small cities across the nation. What nation? I don't know. Do you know? No. You know not no. It was really strange though. Like, at first we thought it was a giant Dominos Pizza employee, but it turned out to be one of those white dominoes with black dots. It was really weird. I couldn't even have foreseen these events occurring because of two reasons. Reason one is that I'm a psychic, and reason two is that psychics are fake. So there. Now you know.
At least we can all agree on who won the Golden Grandpa award this year. Morgan Freeman. As always. I mean, why on earth would any other male older than 50 win? It's absurd to say that someone else would. I mean, the average number of people that are male and older than 50 and better than Morgan Freeman are zero. So the choice is obvious. Now I wasn't the judge, but I can assure you that I was not the judge. I'm too busy to be the judge. Most of my time is spent remembering the Alamo, and the other left over bits of time are spent penny watching. They're some weird creatures, them pennies.
Anyway, I should, probably, stop putting, so, many commas, in, this, sentence, but, it's so, fun! I mean, if we all ate lotion we'd all probably have some sort of intestinal problem. That wouldn't bee too fun. HAHA GET IT?! BEE? LIKE BUZZ BUZZ! Yeah, you're right. It was a bad joke. I could have told it better. Like that one time, the Golden Grandpa award winner Morgan Freeman was going to tell the joke, and it was funny. Because he was Morgan Freeman back then and back then Morgan Freeman was funny. Do not watch the news without a helmet.
-Griffin
At least we can all agree on who won the Golden Grandpa award this year. Morgan Freeman. As always. I mean, why on earth would any other male older than 50 win? It's absurd to say that someone else would. I mean, the average number of people that are male and older than 50 and better than Morgan Freeman are zero. So the choice is obvious. Now I wasn't the judge, but I can assure you that I was not the judge. I'm too busy to be the judge. Most of my time is spent remembering the Alamo, and the other left over bits of time are spent penny watching. They're some weird creatures, them pennies.
Anyway, I should, probably, stop putting, so, many commas, in, this, sentence, but, it's so, fun! I mean, if we all ate lotion we'd all probably have some sort of intestinal problem. That wouldn't bee too fun. HAHA GET IT?! BEE? LIKE BUZZ BUZZ! Yeah, you're right. It was a bad joke. I could have told it better. Like that one time, the Golden Grandpa award winner Morgan Freeman was going to tell the joke, and it was funny. Because he was Morgan Freeman back then and back then Morgan Freeman was funny. Do not watch the news without a helmet.
-Griffin
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Plamps
Good afternoon to those who like hearing the words good afternoon. I'm sure there's none of you out there, but for the ones that are, this time, in the morning of now, shall toot, flavor, run-on sentence, I don't even remember what I was talking about at the beginning of this sentence. Furthermore, I plan on giving goats to all who ask. No, I don't have any goats. But you'll all get goats. Mark my words, you'll all get goats. Goats are still easier to obtain than Plutonium.
I mean, there's a large difference between goats and plutonium. Plutonium could also be called plamps, for those that are me. Goats can't be called plamps. That's just weird. I mean really. It's also super illegal to have. You can have as many goats as you want. But if you had plutonium you'd be in jail faster than you could say: "The orange is the fruit of the citrus species Citru Sinensis in the family Rutaceae. The fruit of the Citrus Sinensis is called the sweet orange to distinguish it from that of the Citrus Aurantium, the bitter orange. The orange is a hybrid, possibly between pomelo (Citrus maxima) and mandarin (Citrus reticulata), cultivated since ancient times." Literally, you'd probably be in jail faster than you could say that.
I'd also like to point out that the word plamps came from the fake word list of octavio. You might be wondering why none of those are capitalized. Well, they're supposed to be but I'm too lazy to backspace and rewrite them. So I didn't. Great job Florida. I can't even begin to understand you and your blueish orangey shoes. I mean come on.
-Griffin
I mean, there's a large difference between goats and plutonium. Plutonium could also be called plamps, for those that are me. Goats can't be called plamps. That's just weird. I mean really. It's also super illegal to have. You can have as many goats as you want. But if you had plutonium you'd be in jail faster than you could say: "The orange is the fruit of the citrus species Citru Sinensis in the family Rutaceae. The fruit of the Citrus Sinensis is called the sweet orange to distinguish it from that of the Citrus Aurantium, the bitter orange. The orange is a hybrid, possibly between pomelo (Citrus maxima) and mandarin (Citrus reticulata), cultivated since ancient times." Literally, you'd probably be in jail faster than you could say that.
I'd also like to point out that the word plamps came from the fake word list of octavio. You might be wondering why none of those are capitalized. Well, they're supposed to be but I'm too lazy to backspace and rewrite them. So I didn't. Great job Florida. I can't even begin to understand you and your blueish orangey shoes. I mean come on.
-Griffin
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