How did you get from us, on this thread, to talking about bad writing?
Can't understand that at all.
:wink:
Hey Acquiunk, I resemble that remark!
:wink:
Her penchant for glossolalia left Andrew positively
speechless (and secretly longing for a good tongue lashing)
codicil
She knew every nook and cranny of his body, from his cute coccyx to his codicil.
weapon
He was NRA. She was PETA. But when he finally persuaded her to hold his weapon, she had a sudden craving for some wild game.
tableaux
Acquiunk - Perhaps another thread with this theme in mind would be fun. Maybe you could start it.
This is one of those threads I'd like to print out..
The tableaux was set, at the end of the corridor, in the Getty Museum, or was that that small museum in England? The bed was soft, downy, and covered with layers of cloudy flumflummery. The veils of fine curtains fell from the rods at ceiling height, held back by ties of woven gold threads... The side table, well, the side table was stocked, full, fulgent even. First with the silver bell, and
diary
The problem, she wrote in her diary, was that all the men she took into her confidence fell madly in love with her. Not partially mad, or kind of wacko nuts but fully bizarroville bazookie mad, complete with long nights of howling and men found wandering aimlessly on the village green mammering her name.
mammary
"She has beautifully mammaries" he said, "like the time they went to Rome"
"You idiot, memmories.... not glands!" she retorted.
Once again.........BALZAC
Cili this thread is doing the job nicely, no need for another.
Kneeling beside him in the library, her fingers lingered on his Balzac, and she made a mental note of the length of the remarkable tome.
Rabelais
Wedging his hardness into the proffered crevice, he grunted with the exertion and his growing excitment. He thrust himself in further, roughly grasping for support on the alabaster mound. He would soon have climbed to the very top of the Balzacs and finish this adventure in mountaineering!!
<too late to add new word>
She had a rebelais nature, she would come and go, or go and come as she pleased.
wawa pedal
Slipping his strong hands inside her skirt, he stroked the familiar tip of her wawa pedal. He turned from the pile of clothing, "I've found where you've left it. All we need now is the amp".
clutter
The mammarians among the grammarians met in the downstairs lounge, at the meeting for LanguageARTsinFood.
We all perused the seashells filled with.....
what, what is that?
the ephemera, wasn't it, of papers past? Ephemera with butter and archival goat cheese?
She gasped as she perused his clutter. She had never seen anything quite so spectacular. She giggled as he put... just part of it in her tiny hands. She began to rummage and pillage his goods, as he lay there basking in her enjoyment, as she let her self go wild with abandonment. Finally, with one hand around his hose, she sweetly asked "May I keep this, please?"
How could he resist, this gorgeous woman could have anything she wanted........ and all she wanted was simplicity.
He knew he had found his queen and she, her junkyard dog.
Kraven
Ooh, too tempting, Ceili! I'm afraid I'd get kicked off the forum! LOL!
The selection of archival goat cheese just sat there as people edged away. Even Reginald moved away, though he had a personal attraction to object gathering, still, still, goat cheese?
Moving ever to the east, wind being from the northwest, Reginald slunk with his packet of crackers ever so slowly. Slowly. He gathered his omens about him in his blanky and trudged on again. Onegan, again. Crackle, crackle, crackle, as he trod. He raised his face to the sky and sniffed largely.
GET OFF OF THE OYSTER CRACKER BED, YELLED THE VOICE!!!
Reggie blinked and thought of more crackers. Thought of the fine white goats with brown trim. Thought of all the blankets that could be blinked anew...
Loom
He seemed to loom larger than life, but much to Stella's dismay, it was only an illusion created by the trick mirrors he'd strategically placed around the bed.
jolly roger
Sam was up for more than a little fun; after playing the French maid for half an hour, they played pirates "This is jolly, Roger me some more!" she said, rolling her eyes expressively and hoisting her flag.
triggerhappy
