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Chris Magyar

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You know what, diary? The nice thing about blogging being rule free and me typing all these entries up without editing them in the slightest is that I can humphrey mumph skittily scrump-a-dumph.

Ashkata wikata sclerota simpaticata pflugelhorn. Interesting bishmopod on the hishmobod this morning, as a fish wished to pish its pantsh but the little plastic diver said stop. Just picked its hand up like a traffic cop (without the white gloves of course, which aren’t very handy when deep sea diving) and mumbled a gargly underwater “stop” to the pishy fish. Later, the oyster burped out a pearl, and we all clapped. CLAP CLAP CLAP.

It snows in Maine and Minnesota and Michigan and Montana and Missouri. It’s hot in Texas and Tennessee. New Mexico is newer than New York but Santa Fe is older than Brooklyn. When you’re upside down, your upside is your backside. When you’re inside out, your insides are all over the place. When you’re beside yourself, you can have an operation to remove the twin. You should do that. You’ll lead a more fulfilling life, and possibly have a healthier digestive tract when you’re not sharing a large intestine.

Where does the name for polka dots come from? Here is the answer. Polka dots as a pattern became popular at the same time that polka as a dance became popular. This makes sense. However, nobody will know what you’re talking about when you refer to your “grungy grid.” Better stick with “flannel” or “plaid.” Hipsters take note. (You may use your Moleskine even though there’s an app for that.)

Whenever I think I’m losing weight, I’ve usually gained some, and whenever I feel fat, I’ve usually just lost some weight. Is this a problem with my nervous system? Or is my brain programmed incorrectly? How important is it to know your own weight? Does it come up in an emergency, like your address and phone number? Or is it a vain modern curiosity like our reflections in general? Doctors are allowed to know our weight, but for everyone else, it’s either “none of your business” or “why did I sign up for this reality show?” Whenever I think I weigh the right amount, a doctor tells me to exercise more, but if I tell a doctor I’m fat, they say I’m “perfectly normal.” Doesn’t our society fetishize the unusual too much for normal to be described as perfect? If normal were perfect, Photoshop wouldn’t exist. “Perfectly normal” is a phrase that approaches oxymoron status without quite getting there. We need a new word for that, when an adjective-noun or adverb-adjective pairing doesn’t form sense from opposites, but from dissonants. Dizzymoronic? 

A list of dizzymorons:

  • Perfectly normal
  • Temper tantrum
  • Friendly wager
  • Assisted suicide
  • Polka dot

If you wake up in the morning feeling pretty good about yourself and you’re concerned that your ego is getting too big, just remember that at some point in your life, you, too, were an Alanis Morissette fan.

Scruffles and flaxseed, everybody. Scruffles and flaxseed.

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