A figure of speech in which exaggeration is used for emphasis or effect, as in I could sleep for a year or This book weighs a ton.
I’d like to say that every story is filled with hyperbole and that this post was a prime example of it. I covered some of the chaos over here too, including the tale of the car fire in which the cats were consumed.
Hyperbole. I only wish that I had engaged in a bit of hyperbole with those posts, but I didn’t. I didn’t even come close to fleshing out the story. I could have and probably should have painted a picture that illustrated what really happened. If you would have seen a man cradling these dad cats in his arms you’d have a better picture. If you would have seen his girlfriend’s reaction to the car fire, witnessed her flailing her arms, hysterical crying and slip into catatonia you would have a much better understanding. Confession, there was not catatonic episode. I couldn’t help myself, not that big a pussy. 😉
There are so many tales to be told. The story of the lawsuit that was served upon a family member by a woman who describes herself as a remarkable intuitive who can help you be the person that you know you can and should be.
Was I wrong for telling her that she is a bitter old crone whose intuitiveness lies in trying to shake down others because she is too stupid to get a real job and too bitter to go on welfare.
I suppose that I could mention the story of the dog watcher who backed out of watching the dog. Pretend for a moment that your parents were staying with one of your 1,982 sisters. Now imagine that the sister and family left for a family vacation, three days before your parents were going to leave.
Pretend that your mother called to ask for your help because your sister was out of the country and the dog watcher backed out of watching your sister’s dog at eight 0’clock at night. Add this to the recipe of ridiculousness. Your parents are leaving for the airport at 4 am the next day.
There is nothing like knowing that people plan and G-d laughs. I am still working on trying to be At Peace with Myself. Well, I sort of am. I tend to laugh at a lot of this stuff, because otherwise I might cry, or scream, or I don’t know what.
Most of the time I try and remember The Impact of My Actions and respond appropriately to whatever situation is at hand. There are always plenty of stories to tell such as The Sloppy Kisser, More Questions about Body Parts or anything contained in this post. Call me what you will but I Don’t Always Believe In Happy Endings.
Sometimes the posts match the title and sometimes they don’t. The sad thing is that a bad headline kills the post almost as fast as something that was poorly written. Come up with a snappy, intriguing headline and people take a moment to look it over. I wanted to say flip through it, but this isn’t a book or magazine.
As much as I love reading online, it will never replace the joy of holding a real book. A good book is simple pleasure that I can’t live without. That reminds me, my bookshelves look like hell. I have run out of space and begun to stack books in odd places. I need to do something about that.
Call me a snob, but if I come into your home and do not see any books displayed I will think less of you. They don’t have to be Plato’s Republic, just show me some books and let me know that you read.
Ok, it is time for this session of frantic blogging to end. Back later.