Friday, 26 November 2010


If you have ovense, then you are certain to have what many desire, and that, my dears, is oven sense.  Yes, oven sense, better known as ovense.  One who does not over use their oven (or ovens, if one should have more than one at their disposal).  The person with ovense is a practical observer of his or her oven, keeps it clean, but not over polished, likes its warmth but never heats the house with it, and above all never uses it unless he or she is  having company and wishes to warm up take-outs without the hassle of one-by-one-ing in the microwave.
Do you have ovense?

Tuesday, 21 April 2009


"Ses who?"
"Look here, now, I don't understand a word you're saying. Come out with it then."
"Oh bloody hell. Sea strapped?"
"Nnnnn. Nnnnn. sestrapped! Uuuh. Nnnnck"
"Hold on now, don't get your knickers in a bunch. What are you going on about..."

Emily had jaw surgery and her jaws are clamped shut. William cannot for the life of him understand her. Emily, beyond frustration, gives up and walks away. William pours himself a coffee from the coffe pot. He finishes his coffee and peers out the front window. William wonders where Sylvia is. She was suppose to come 'round to pick him up at eight o'clock sharp. William paces a bit, then opens the door to have a look. Perhaps Sylvia is just coming down the street. William glances at his watch and begins to fidget. he really doesn't like to be late. This Sylvia business really takes the cake.

Sylvia is at home. She had been bringing in her bloomers an hour ago, when the cat ran by, chased by a dog from down the street. Sylvia lost her balance and fell flat into a soppy puddle of gooky mud. She went in to change. She would have still been on time to pick up William, however, in her hastea and hurry, she dropped her purse into the laundry shute with her soiled garments. Upon trying to retreive it (her purse had not gone all the way down), she found she had shimmied herself into a bind and could not for the life of her twist herself out. Sylvia was a quick thinker. She would call Emily. Emily always knew what to do.

Emily decided the best course of action would be to tell William that Sylivia was stuck. He was good at getting people out of binds. That was his job, after all. Unfortunately William could not understand a word Emily told him. Quite frustrated, Emily went off to cool down a bit. She would take Maxy on a walk. That would do her some good. But Maxy was nowhere to be found. "Always running off," she thought to herself. "Probably chasing that cat again..."

Thursday, 9 April 2009


Tautwar should never be confused with totwear. Ever.

Though you will find that the fit is taut and people will go to war over it.


If you have to ask that question, you are not of the elite tautwar crowd. Turn away now, or stick around and learn something.
Tautwar can only be found in specialty shops. I ne'er say you will never find them in any sort of super store, chain store, or flea market.

Tautwar is only the elite of miniature person wear.

It is the finally politically correct wear.

And due to it's speciality and comfound softness of material, and uniquely taut fluidness of style and fit, miniature people all over the world have been seen fighting fisticuffs to fistucuffs to bring home as much tautwar as their little hands can carry.

Fad? Not a chance. Tautwar is here to stay.

Friday, 3 April 2009


SPELLE:- now dialect, also SPEL, SPELL
A splinter, chip or fragment.
From SPELLEN (german) to split or cleave.
First used in print in Ascham's Toxophily 1545

A spelle in the heart can be fatal.

Wednesday, 1 April 2009


Snetings. This describes a spider that has died in its own web from either malnutrition or natural causes. Either way its corpse vibrates gently in the breeze, whilst the once beautiful web becomes clogged with detritus.

Snetings also come in a doll's house size, except in this case the spider is, or was, a money spider. Ironically you will need money for this luxury as the snets are hung with simulated dew drops made from D flawless diamonds. No attic would be complete without one.

Monday, 30 March 2009


To mindblog is quite simply to come up with an idea for a blog. Although not a security word, mindblogging is certainly relevant to any blogger, as without ideas for posts, there would be no blog.

It is also a play on mind boggling. In this case, the mind bloggles. This is said aloud when a post contains extraordinary nuggets of brain food. (Formerly known as food for thought.)

Had any good mindblogs today?

Saturday, 28 March 2009


photo found at MusicWeb
A hymplem is a long forgotten baroque in minuet style hymn, scored for operas, accompanied by the gentle plucking of the plem harp. The plem harp was named after Sir Josefto Plem. Sir Plem's was a well know private philanthropist. His great love for musicians, bread loafs, and things that made plucky noises, aspired him to commission Johanne Bloche, Austrian musical instrument maker, to make a miniature hand sized harp. "The sound should exact that of a miniature angel of heaven with which dainty sopranos could easily pluck with their delicate fingers, and should offer a sound that would unwittingly invoke tears to ones eyes." And so the plem was born, and soon thereafter, the hymplem was born.