tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10583449.post115992145395263358..comments2023-09-23T04:56:51.617-07:00Comments on Forensics & Faith: Way Cool Words~ Brandilyn Collinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04771812607327238979noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10583449.post-1160022504415418632006-10-04T21:28:00.000-07:002006-10-04T21:28:00.000-07:00Andy, you'd win hands-down even if everyone else s...Andy, you'd win hands-down even if everyone else stepped up to the plate. I think you scared 'em off with your creative wit. <BR/><BR/>Here's your dog biscuit!~ Brandilyn Collinshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04771812607327238979noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10583449.post-1159979955676660172006-10-04T09:39:00.000-07:002006-10-04T09:39:00.000-07:00Groan. Eileen's senectitude kept her from particip...Groan. Eileen's senectitude kept her from participating in this exercise.eileenhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09563215224905352643noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10583449.post-1159973312212721172006-10-04T07:48:00.000-07:002006-10-04T07:48:00.000-07:00Vidalia lived in Vidalia, Georgia, and had a bad c...Vidalia lived in Vidalia, Georgia, and had a bad case of oniomania. She put Vidalia onions in every recipe. She loved them, just couldn't get enough of those sweet thangs. One day, when the season was over, she was in her aphatic cellar and noticed her onions looked a little spotted, but she decided to use them anyway. They were Vidalias and luscious, not those cheap imitations, like what some people grew after buying cuttings at the Vidalia Onion Festival and taking them home and planting them. The joke was on them: it takes Vidalia, Georgia, soil to grow real Vidalia onions. So Vidalia added the spotted onions to her stew, but alas, she grew sick and her stomach was as procellous as the Atlantic that time she went deep sea fishing. She wished she'd thrown those things in her garbology. Vidalia had been sure her spotted Vidalias were miscible with her stew, without harm. Suddenly, even with her stomach procellous, a fit of tarantism overcame her, and she couldn't resist. Her feet flew over the floorboards. But a feeling of senectitude was the result. She was a 90-year-old with prevenient thoughts of the Pearly Gates. Her girlfriend called at that moment, and when asked how she was, phatically, she said, "Oh, I'm just fine." She put on her clinquant shirt with a Vidalia onion outlined in sequins and took a bromide which tasted acidulous. The next morning, her devotional said, "Be thankful in all things," so she thanked the Lord for her procellous stomach all night long, because now, her midsection was exiguous.<BR/><BR/>Oh, did I misuse some of those words? GRIN.<BR/><BR/>Now, back to my manuscript, thank you very much!Kristy Dykeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09513637012962943901noreply@blogger.com