I haven’t got a new roommate for my place yet. ln other news today, conditions in the local long-term psychiatric facility AND South Toronto Detention Centre indicate severe overflow.
I owe $98 on my last month’s rent and don’t have any of this month’s, mainly cause I’m too retarded to sell any of my beautiful art because I get complete body paralysis when I think of picking up the phone; and all I can pull myself together to do is write meaningless, yet admittedly still extremely gorgeous, mildly amusing, at least to me, and totally snarky blog posts that I read and re-read obsessively while chain smoking in an effort to believe that I’m not just an old useless wad of gum on the sandals of Father Time.
Yep, you got it – it’s Sunday!
Kollective Noun Korner, a.k.a., a new way to pad things out while my brain remains devoid of anything like a pithy, relevant subject. And it’s almost impossible to avoid quipping, “That wasn’t devoid, that was my life!”
Today’s post – because the option of saying nothing has apparently not yet occurred to me – is by way of rescuing the thousands of you who have been in an agony of writers’ block due to having only one collective noun relating to geese.
I know, petal, I know. But daddy’s here.
All of you have been using “gaggle”, which of course means a group of geese WHEN THEY ARE ON WATER.
“But how,” you gasp, “shall we characterize a group of geese IN FLIGHT?!”, before collapsing on your IKEA fainting mat (“Svöønenig”).
A group of geese, or in fact any type of wildfowl, in flight is a
BONUS IMAGE: I’ve included a pic of an aardvark just to be, like, totally?!?? random?!?!?. Collective noun: Aarmory.
When he does bump into another aardvark, and after they both burst into tears and shriek, “Jesus, I thought I was the only one!”, the two creatures just sniff each other for a bit, give each other a wary look, then wander off.