Hearing from you really made my birthday happier.
Seriously, though, thanks to all the supercool, funny and thoughtful people who made my day brighter with messages either online or off. This old man really appreciates it. 🙂
Tag Archives: humor
Sometimes I wonder what it’s like — being able to multiply and divide.
What strange powers God has conferred upon all you people. I can only hope that you will use them for good.
Sometimes I can write well. But, holy shit, the lord does not give with both hands.
Kurse you, Kroger!
This is the face I make when the supermarket is out of liverwurst. Oh, the humanity.
(Alas, I am Eric. And my brilliance is strictly pun-based.)
If my name was Brad, I would totally learn to make cakes and things.
Because then I could open a bakery and call it “Baking Brad.”
This post has mad “Pontypool” energy and I’m totally here for it.
IYKYK.
“I met a kitten with whom I was smitten.”
I met a kitten
with whom I was smitten.
I laid frosted wheat
in front of her feet.
It was all that I had!
(My diet is sad.)
But she ran away
this sorrowful day.
Alright, look — I know that dry cereal is an idiotic treat with which to befriend a cat. But off-brand Frosted Shredded Mini-Wheat really was all I was carrying, besides a couple of Kit-Kat bars. (I am a poet, not a nutritionist, and I’d only needed those two things when I was out.)
I’ve never been 100 percent clear about whether it was a myth or not that chocolate was dangerous to animals (brand name notwithstanding). So of course I kept the candy in the bag.
Liverwurst is evidence of a loving god.
Liverwurst. With thinly sliced tomato on top. (Okay, I can’t slice tomatoes to save my life.) Or a smattering of onions. That’s even better, in fact.
No, this is not disgusting — it is DIVINE. You just can’t appreciate that because you’re a Philistine.
You say to-MAY-to and I say to-MAH-to and all that.
I’m a Fred I have another bad pun for you.
So here’s the plan — I’m gonna move back to my college town of Fredericksburg, Virginia, and start a poetry group there.
Gonna call it “Fred Poets Society.”
(I already e-mailed my old writing prof and told him he had to be our Mr. Keating.)
Life of Pie.
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 