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Strange emails: Heavily Armed Raisins
July 25th, 2008 by witherow
Here’s yet another strange email interchange with my sister Becky. In this one, we reference the Great Raisin, whom we talk about a lot but don’t exactly know who or what he is, and our sister Molly, who a). likes Raisin Bran and crackers, and b). had this joke about wanting to be First Lady some day. You’ll notice Becky signs with her alias, “the great f” (it’s random; don’t ask), and I sign with my initials, erp.
In the email before this, I referenced the Great Raisin, to which Becky replies,
BECKY:
i know the GREAT RAISIN quite well, after all of the business i’ve done with him in the past few weeks, so don’t even try it. he will obviously side with me because i supply him with all of the laser guns he could ever need. so ha! beat that, if you can. >: )
f
EMILY:
Raisin armys armed with laser guns? Scary beyond all reason.
BECKY:
duh! what else would raisin armies be armed with? and duh! once again. it’s supposed to be scary beyond all reason. resistance is futile. surrender now.
ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff
EMILY:
I have bran flakes and an army of Mollys who will voraciously eat your raisin army. Even their meager lasers cannot withstand a Molly’s hunger for Raisin Bran!
BECKY:
Molly will be too busy to eat my raisin and laser army. I will distract her with a fake invitation to the white house to see if she likes the carpet color. you know she’ll be there. what now?
the great f who will slurp the erp
EMILY:
I will promise a lifetime supply of crackers to the Molly who eats the most Raisin Bran. They will not be able to resist, nay, not even to look at White House decor. Ooo–what now?
the unslurpable erp
BECKY:
There is a chance to escape the hunger of the Molly. While they are all distracted and on their way to Washington, D.C., my raisin army will zap all of the Mollys with their laser guns, making them forever hate raisins and anything with a significant amount of fiber. they will no longer want to eat my army or my lasers. they will, in fact, be terrified of the dried fruit and be conquered. i win. (again)
the f the f the f the f the f the f the f
EMILY:
I will lure the army of raisins into Curves, where they will be devoured by health-conscious people looking to fulfill their requirement of 5 fruits and veggies a day. Or I’ll lure the raisins into my giant industrial-sized microwave. I haven’t decided yet.
Erp eRp erP
BECKY:
whoa! if you were a health-conscious curves member would you eat a raisin bearing a laser gun? i don’t think so. and what kind of raisin army do you think that i am training? they would never step into a gigantic microwave unless, well, nevermind. think of something that might actually work this time. or don’t.
happy f laser f raisin f bran f jello f great f becky f
EMILY:
Fine. I will appoint the battle at the parking lot in front of Toys ‘R Us. But I will keep putting it off because of schedule conflicts (dentist appointments and podiatrist appointments and meterologist appointments and such) until the only time we can fight it is 5:30 a.m. on November 24th. Your raisins will realize only too late that it is the Friday after Thanksgiving and Toys ‘R Us is having a big 95% off Early Bird Sale of Insanity and will lament their ignorance as they are trampled into raisin paste on the sidewalk by masses of shoppers. And for any who try to escape, I will have attack goats.
E.R.P. (Exultant Raisin Pummeler)
BECKY:
but what will stop my raisin army from attacking your army while you are at the podiatrist and such? what kind of toys could my vicious laser-zapping raisins possibly want? aren’t the lasers enough? like my army would be sitting around in the parking lot while they could be sun bathing at the beach!!! your scheme has holes, emily, lots of holes. you could never cut it as a criminal mastermind. i could. resistance is futile.
G.R.E.A.T F. (giggling raisins eat all the foes)
Posted in Most popular posts, Strange E-mails | | | 0 Comments
Return of the Ticket Poetry
July 23rd, 2008 by witherow
The following was left as a response to my last post, but I thought it deserved to be seen here. Thanks go to Tim, I mean, Walt, Bump.
Out of the darkness, endlessly typing,
Out of the mocking burnt trope, the musical chuckle,
Out of the night mail midnight
Over the sterile sand volleyball courts, where psmith’s tickets wandered
Bold-typed, unbound,
Down from the hallowed founder,
Up from the mystic fountains that play dancing and twirling by the founder’s grave,
Out from the hedges of brick and iron fences
From the memories of the bards that chanted to you,
From the voiced struggles of poets long dead and living,
From the thousands laughters of your heart,
From within dusky classroom halls
From such, you, by your smiles and tears a little girl again,
Singer of joy and fear, uniter of spectator and play,
Facing both the world of truth and illusion
An entertaining reminiscence sing.
–Walt Bump
I’m not 100% percent sure what all it’s saying, which means Tim imitated Walt Whitman very accurately 
Posted in Poetry that oughtn't | tagged parody, poetry, walt whitman | | 1 Comments
Funniest post yet: Ticket Poetry
July 20th, 2008 by witherow
As I have mentioned before, my friends and I share the same bizarre sense of humor. This is especially true of my friend Mike DeStefano. A year or so ago when I was in grad school, we tried to get a group together to see Leave it to Psmith by P.G. Wodehouse, a hilarious play I recommend. Securing the tickets was going to prove a little tricky, requiring some advanced planning over email. Normal people’s email might go something like this:
NORMAL PERSON 1:
We need to get tickets for the play. I will save a place in line. Then when I have have to leave and go to class, you and Molly can come take my place and get the tickets.
NORMAL PERSON 2:
OK. And then I will send you tickets through the dormitory mail system, which, as you know, is also called “night mail,” and about which we have a joke about gnomes that try to intercept all things that go through it.
NORMAL PERSON 1:
Yes. This is a good plan. Thank you for your time.
*Normal persons then go on with their normal and somewhat boring lives*
Not so with us. We decided to spice up our correspondence by parodying famous poems. It looked something like this:
EMILY:
Mike and Molly,
Would you, could you, at that time?
Would you, could you, stand in line?
Seven seats, if you don’t mind,
And those of the four-dollar kind.
And recompense shall not be slack–
(I’ll hound them ’til they pay you back).
I’ll try to get there after nine
And save you two a spot in line.
But once the bell shall toll for ten,
I’ll have to go to class again.
If you would help us get our seats
We’ll take you out for ice cream treats!
=0)
Thanks, guys!
[[staring at a computer screen for way too long,
Emily Seuss]]
MIKE responded e. e. cummings style:
I
Will be in line and stuff
…….thanks for
the placeholding….
…..we……will hopefully
getticketsintime
I hope there isn’t a
big
line
EMILY responds in traditional Japanese haiku:
your cummings-like verse
made me laugh out loud at my
desk, making a scene.
Our good friend Steph may
be able to get tickets–
She has connections.
MICHAEL MANLEY HOPKINS DeSTEFANO:
As the sun shines, slowly
Spanning its warm welcoming width
On the long line loyally latching
With persistence the Psmith passes perilously
Molly and I will with waiting take
The tickets tolling our evening’s
diversion delightful and delicious
(…the audacity of me to parody a well known poet to an English major…I must be out of my mind maddeningly)
EMILY DICKINSON PARK:
Your Madness makes Poetic sense
I like—the Way it Rings.
So remember—not to take Offense
When this non-Music major—Sings
Uncertain we are, but Four tickets
May come—to Stephanie
That she will Purchase from a Friend—
Then tickets we Need—Three.
This Alteration of our Design
Still teeters—hangs Uncertain—
Wednesday—I’ll be in Line,
And let you know—
Then—
ALFRED, LORD DeSTEFANO:
Half a yard, Half a yard, Half a yard onward,
Into the Lobby of FMA, Up to the P&P window
Marched the two ticket-seekers.
People in front of them, People behind them
Still they marched on
They accomplished their mission
Noble Two Ticket seekers
(P. S. In case you thought my cadences too ambiguous, I wanted to let you know that we got the tickets, all four of them. would you like me to give them to you or shall I keep them? You might be the more organized, safe solution.)
EMILY CARLOS WILLIAMS:
so much depended
on
your ticket-getting
today
I only appear organized
but
I can keep the tickets
safe
MICHAEL R.R. DeSTEFANO:
Seven tickets for the friends going to the play
Four tickets from me who purchased them
Three tickets will I night mail to you
One ticket I will keep for myself
In the Land of Smith, where I reside
One ticket to let me in
One ticket to admit me
One ticket to bring me,
and to Psmith admit me,
To the land of Britain where Psmith lives
EMILY POUND:
In a Station of the Theater
The apparition of these British chaps and all
PSmith in Per form ance Hall
MICHAEL LEWIS CARROLL
Twas brillig, and the lavender gnomes
Did waltz and try to steal the night mail
All chartreuse were the evil gnomes,
And the tickets were black and white
One two! One two! and through and through
the Vorpal spoon went snicker snack!
She left them dead, and with her tickets
She went galumphing back.
(Check night mail tonight for the tickets).
E.R.P. TOLKIEN (okay, I admit, I repeated a poet. oops.)
The hours go ever on and on,
But yet from the Dorm where it began
The night-mail seems not to have gone,
Check the Smith box, if you can.
The night-mail guys with weary feet
Decided not to go the way
Where BJ guys and Siddons meet.
And why is that? I cannot say.
(That is to say, I didn’t get the tickets. I hope they’re still in the box.)
EMILY REBECCA LOUIS STEVENSON (after the tickets appeared the next night):
Under the wide and starry sky
‘Cross campus did the tickets fly,
Borne gladly by a night-mail guy,
And slipped beneath my door.
Into my handbag, way down deep
In cavernous darkness now they sleep,
There have I put them, and safely keep
Where gnomes can reach no more.
Posted in Poetry that oughtn't, Strange E-mails, Uncategorized | tagged Alfred Lord Tennyson, Dr. Seuss, e.e. cummings, Emily Dickinson, Ezra Pound, Gerard Manley Hopkinks, haiku, J.R.R. Tolkien, Lewis Carroll, parody, poetry, Robert Louis Stevenson, William Carlos Williams | | 1 Comments
Adventures in North Carolina
July 15th, 2008 by witherow
This weekend, Christy and I headed up to Swannanoa, North Carolina, to visit dear friend Rachel. It was the best road trip we’ve had since … I don’t know. When was our last road trip, Christy?
As a very wise Internet cartoon wrestler has said, every road trip needs a good inside joke. This trip’s joke was “sheep.” Just laugh, it’s funny.
We set out early Saturday morning. First stop: Spinx, where we filled up on gasoline and junk food to last the trip. I purchased a small Frappuccino and then realized I needed to clear out my cup holder if I was going to enjoy the highly caffeinated delight on the way up. So I downed the rest of my large cup of French roast coffee that I had just made that morning and put the cup in the back (I didn’t want it to spill), and then started on the Frapp. Not until later did I realize what I had done. But I was just fine fine finefine <<twitch>> fine fine fine!
REBA THE GUIDE DOG: There she go! People are stupid, I mean it.
We didn’t get lost, which is amazing since every time Christy rides in my car I make a wrong turn that usually adds 20-60 minutes to the trip. But Christy—your power over my sense of direction has met its match.
We arrived at Rachel’s house around 10, where we were met by the exuberant Rachel and the even exuberant-er guide dog Mattie (also called Matilda, Matsters, Fattie Mattie, Mattress and other variations).
MATTIE: Oh boy! People to play with me! Just what I deserve!
We, of course, had a great time with Rachel. We spent a lot of time online watching cartoons, instant messaging each other from across the room and sending ridiculous sound clips, etc.
We also got to talk to Rachel’s mom and dad, who were awesome the whole time. Such sweet people!
We then decided to have a Grand Adventure and visit downtown Asheville nearby. Rachel’s mom was a great help with giving directions.
After arriving and paying this weird machine five dollars so no one would tow my car away, Rachel, Christy and the dogs and I wandered around, looking for a place to eat. We finally settled on Wild Wing Café, where we ended up talking about health food versus junk food (ironically, while munching on mozzerella sticks and eating barbeque wings). Christy and I are opposite: I love veggies and don’t care much for junk food, while Christy loves her Bugles and fried Oreos and hates vegetables of all kinds.
We then went exploring some more. There were a lot of restaurants and shops and people walking dogs and such. Reba and Mattie did well with their guide work, besides a few oopses. But overall they were great. Even when the guy dressed as a clown barked at them (and Rachel told them off with an “Excuse you!” Go Rachel! Boo for rude clowns).
OK, to be fair to the random clown, maybe he didn’t mean it, but it is extremely rude and even dangerous to distract a guide dog, especially in the spot where we were, with cars and people and things in the way. Christy or Rachel could have been hurt if the dogs had paid attention to the clown instead of their job. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to be amused.
REBA: I slap the sheep out of you, I mean it.
The shops we visited included a groovy mineral store.
Honestly, I loved it, because I absolutely love stones and geodes—I love the textures and colors. And the guy at the counter was super cool—very helpful and friendly. But despite the major coolness factor, the store was pretty New Age (but what do you expect with giant quartz crystals everywhere? And I do mean giant crystals. There were some there that were probably over a foot long and probably weighed like 40 pounds, I would guesstimate).
There were a lot of New Agey things downtown, including a store that sold windchimes called Gaea’s (that’s the New Age Earth goddess), stores that sold incense, one called Instant Karma or something, and so on.
Another thing I noticed about Asheville is that there are a lot of people sitting on the sidewalks playing guitars, drums, and I even saw a guy walk by with a wooden flute. The thing is a lot of them kind of look like scruffy and maybe even homeless. So it kind of wasn’t as cool as it sounds.
And though there are good pedestrian-friendly areas, the sidewalks are all kind of broken and covered with old gum spots (which I didn’t tell Rachel or Christy. Grin). Overall I think Greenville’s downtown is much nicer.
On the way back to the car, we stopped at the coolest coffee shop ever. It was an old British double-decker bus that had been converted into a restaurant.
On the first level you can order coffees, coffee frappes, smoothies and more. I got what was called a “nuts and berries” smoothie—raspberry and tiny bits of hazelnut … it was amazing!
On the second deck was a seating area, with bus seats converted into dining booths.
MATTIE: Um, those stairs were not fun. Where’s the elevator?
The tables were slate and you could write on them with chalk! So I illustrated the day’s adventures.
Here’s Christy in the front with Reba, Christy holding the keychain she bought, then me (and I didn’t mean to make myself gigantic next to everyone else … I’m not really that tall). I’m holding a bag with a rock in it … because I bought an awesome geode tealight holder from that groovy mineral store). Then there’s Rachel and Mattie, Rachel holding a poorly-drawn bag with the present we found for her mom’s birthday (don’t tell!).
Rachel’s mom then spoiled us with a great dinner, and then we spent the evening basically goofing off again.
On Sunday, we had a chance to visit Rachel’s church. I really enjoyed the pastor’s message—he’s a very down-to-earth preacher and obviously loves the Lord very much.
After a relaxing afternoon, we finally had to say goodbye. Alas the day!
On the way back, Christy and I went to Cracker Barrel and got a bluegrass CD that was perfect for the drive back through the mountains. And then I made one wrong turn, but it doesn’t count because I knew where we were the whole time, honest!!!
Posted in Emoticons, Uncategorized | | | 0 Comments
Weird stuff around the house
July 6th, 2008 by witherow
This blogpost is about as random as it sounds. So with no further introduction, and with a deep sigh from my roommate beside me …
Yams are good food. They also grow sprouts if left in dark places.
Like our kitchen cupboard.
Mmmm.
Random thing #2:
When I went to my family’s house, I was warned about the green goat.
The green goat is a scary looking dog toy that all of the little poodles are afraid of and won’t play with.
Apparently its squeak is too loud.
Our other explanation is that it’s because it steals your soul when you squeak it.
View with caution.
And remember–never squeak the green goat.
Posted in Hijinks | | | 0 Comments
A Sock Monkey at the Beach
July 5th, 2008 by witherow
Once upon a time the Park family went to the magical island of Hilton Head for a much-needed vacation. Because this was the Park family, they decided not to take normal pictures and instead focus on the adventures of a little sock monkey who came along with them.
The journey to the island was a long one and took place in a Honda CR-V that was a little small for four twenty-something girls and their mother. So while Mom drove and Becky whined about people poking her and Emily read a book about visual impairment and Heidi mastered a book of Sudoku puzzles and Molly read some theological book and longed desperately for her French dictionary even though she doesn’t speak French, Sock Monkey tried to find a safe place to hang out without Heidi squishing him between the car roof and the sun visor (which, tragically, happened at least once). When Sock Monkey and the Parks arrived at the slightly skuzzy Metropolitan Hotel, they were confused by this sign on the window leading out to the half-foot-wide balcony:
Apparently the hotel owners wanted them to know that yes, it is “legal to have owl on railing.” Sock Monkey wondered if they had accidentally ended up at Hogwarts. The Parks’ best guess was that at one time the lettering had said “Illegal to have towel on railing.” This dilapidation of the Metropolitan’s signage, coupled with the bug on the mattress pad they received instead of the extra blanket they had asked for, and the blank stare the people at the desk gave Mrs. Park when she asked for some … what was it called? … oh, yeah, SOAP, convinced the Park family to find another hotel for the remainder of their trip.
The first evening on the island, Sock Monkey and the Parks went to sit out on the beach as the sun set. It really was beautiful. The next day was also spent at the beach. 
Sock Monkey had a great time hanging out with Heidi,
and Becky, who was listening to her Ipod,
and Molly, who was reading some other weird book,
and Mom, who tried to squeeze Sock Monkey’s life out between the pages of a book on corporate leadership (poor Sock Monkey!).
So Sock Monkey decided to hang out by Dr. Seuss-like sandcastle Becky had made by dripping very wet sand into globs.
Like on any vacation, the Parks also had to go shopping. A lot. And find weird stuff to take pictures of. Though nothing could beat last year’s sequined fanny packs and “pickled baloney rope,” this year’s grand prize winner was this solar-powered flashlight.
So if you need the sun to power the flashlight, does it not work in the dark? Emily was greatly confused by this.
Well, so much for that. Back to the beach, where Becky and Molly built Sock Monkey the Grandpappy of all Sandcastles.
It was four stories tall with a drawbridge, a Pit of Death, and multiple wooden spikes to discourage invaders and the nearby drunk frat boys who might try to kick it over.
Sock Monkey approved. Then, after some more adventures, including getting lost and driving around in circles, receiving painful sunburns and eating more highly-caloric food than one family should in one week, Sock Monkey and the Parks returned to the Upstate, where Monkey will happily live out the rest of his days, reflecting on his Adventure of the Grandest Sort and trying not to get squished by more books.
Posted in Hijinks, That's life | tagged beach, Hilton Head, Park Family, Sock Monkey, Vacation | | 0 Comments
