After It was suggested that Facebook may not be the best place to give free reign to my spleen, I decided to move to a blog. I can save FB for The 7am b.m. report.
This site will be the repository of my personal assholotry. My posts are quite short. I hope brevity is the soul of wit. If I can't make a point in one or two paragraphs, I'm flogging a dead horse.
Firstly let me explain the title. When my son was young his mother and I would read to him so much that his fist words were narrated like a children's book. He also had an innate gift of coining new words.
I had asked him a question and his rather forceful objection came out, “No!, he skrunted."
I use all the words at my disposal and am a godless heathen so move along if that ain't your cup o' punch.
There is a lot to say “No!” to after the last few years and it turns out that scrunting* is actually an old English hybrid of screaming and grunting. (And as with any word you can think of, it is a euphemism in the Urban Dictionary.)
Firstly let me explain the title. When my son was young his mother and I would read to him so much that his fist words were narrated like a children's book. He also had an innate gift of coining new words.
I had asked him a question and his rather forceful objection came out, “No!, he skrunted."
I use all the words at my disposal and am a godless heathen so move along if that ain't your cup o' punch.
There is a lot to say “No!” to after the last few years and it turns out that scrunting* is actually an old English hybrid of screaming and grunting. (And as with any word you can think of, it is a euphemism in the Urban Dictionary.)
* original spelling
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