Tag: one minute read

MoronicArts Classics: Money Can’t Buy You Love, Robbie.

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

The Hurlbutts get together for their annual Christmas shenanigans. After opening $1000 worth of useless crap from Damien, Kankakee store clerk, covert narcissist and Elvis impersonator Robbie opens the sole gift from his mother. PJ could not wait to give this to Robbie.

Robbie opens his present. “Maaaa, you got this for free from Sybil.”

“It’s an autographed Elvis picture! I got it for you because I know how much you love Elvis.”

“You paid nothing for it. I spent $100 on that Blu-Ray player and the bootleg copy of Dune.”

“Money can’t buy you love, Robbie,” a disappointed PJ advises her spoiled brat son, who is throwing a tantrum like a three-year-old.

“I’ll take it. I can sell it on eBay!” the elder Hurlbutt son Damien tells his little brother Robbie.

The Hurlbutt brothers argue back and forth — after all, that is what narcissists love to do. PJ tries to break up the fight. Meanwhile, smoke is coming from the kitchen.

PJ runs into the kitchen.

“What is that?” Damien inquires.

“The Yule Log,” PJ sarcastically replies.

PJ takes the meat out of the oven just in time to stop a fire, and sends her dorky kids home so she can have a peaceful rest.

Before PJ has a chance to lie down, her best friend Sybil Kibble rings the doorbell.

Ahhh, holiday cheer.

Merry Christmas from MoronicArts!

Classified Ad Fails from the 1990s

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment
Are you lost? Why use Google Maps when you can rent a physic? Just 3.99 a minute to subscribe.

I am glad that stripped kitty got home from the club okay. He must have been cold after taking off his coat.

Perfect food for a green grouch, heh heh heh.

Did Peppi Cacca leave Bern and run for the hills? Let us hope. Then again, maybe not. The couple that poops together, stays together.

Archfarchnad?

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments
Daily writing prompt
List your top 5 grocery store items.
View all responses

My favourite Welsh word is the word for supermarket — “#archfarchnad”

Dw i’n hoffi coffi – I like coffee
(no covfefe about it)

Weithiau, dw i’n prynu losin – Sometimes, I buy candy
(Andes Candies are great, unlike Andy Skandees)

Llefrith, ffrythiau a llysiau — Milk, fruits and veggies are my other top three.

“Archfarchnad” is fun so say. It sounds like I am cursing, and feels just as cathartic, when I’m just talking about the grocery store. (Though I would not blame you one bit for cursing in Walley World.)

Damien’s Dreamland Christmas Wish

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Like most narc-a-doodles, Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt does not sleep well, usually because lies awake dreaming up devious schemes. This is not one of those nights.

“Her toes, her toes, her delicious toes…let me sniff her toes…cover them in barbecue sauce, oh M’Lori, M’lady Madame….”

“Vitals!”

Damien’s audible pillow talk comes to an abrupt halt.

“You okay in there? Time to get your vitals before we install your probe,” says a worker sporting a badge reading “Alternative Fuels Department, Area 51.”

Damien gazes over at the wall-mounted digital clock, which reads 0500 Hours.

“You’re a freak. Your body contains the highest concentration of natural gas we have ever tested here in Dreamland,” the nurse says after they capture Damien’s blood pressure, temperature and pulse oximetry.

“Now time for your daily flatulence testing!”

Satan Unveils His New Welcome Sign.

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As Hell’s Chief Operating Officer Satan unveils his newly procured “Welcome to Hell” sign — shown off by visiting intern Gothic Diana Ross — in-processing clerk for the newly damned Lucy Furr looks at her boss with visible dismay.

“Isn’t our new sign just peachy?” Satan asks Lucy as Diana continues to model by it, nearly getting hit a baker’s dozen times by the devil’s not-so-careful use of the pulley system.

“Couldn’t our money be better spent on improving working conditions? Hiring more people? Fixing the toilets?” asks the bully known for her tormenting of an autistic 20-something on their college trip to Italy.

“You have your own heated place for the rest of your life. Try being more thankful for the things you have,” Satan passive-aggressively demands of his clerk while sporting a devilish grin.

Meanwhile, communal narcadoodle Bernadette Cacca is still waiting to poop. All the other washrooms in Hell are closed for maintenance.

Golden Moron Award: Little Miss Fake Worrier From the ‘Burgh.

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Today’s Golden Moron is a real doozy. This dumpster fire had gone from bending over backward saying to a severely depressed person, “Get help. I’m worried about you” to blocking them two days later.

Who brags about working 50 hrs a week and volunteering 30, yet can be found on social media most hours of the day posting about lawd-only-knows-what?

Hmmm…

To the sixty-eight-year-old moron in Pittsburgh who had gone out of her way to passive-aggressively worry about a human being with actual feelings, only to block them, we hereby award you The Golden Moron Award! We would have painted it yellow and black just for you, however, we are way too busy.

We sincerely hope you get caught using Facebook at work – if you even do work — and if you do, you get fired.

Awww, so close to retirement age, only to lose your pension? Sucks to be you.

Happy Thanksgiving from a Real Turkey!

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Kankakee bill collector Sybil Kibble had her turkey-flavored dog treats. She offered her mother JoAnn some, who declined. Sybil gladly ate her mother’s portion. Yum!

The Midnight Supremes: Stop, In the Name of Death!

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Gothic Diana Ross and The Midnight Supremes sing a number during their “Stop in the Name of Death” tour. Diana tosses a feather boa into the audience. Her obsessed fan and vulnerable narcadoodle Robbie Hurlbutt knocks over a bunch of people to try and catch it, only for it to land in the hands of someone else: Robbie’s boss Wally Green.

How Jen Makes MoronicArts

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

“The sillies are manufactured in my brain, roll off the conveyor belt, out my hands and onto the paper.”

PS: “Moron” is the Welsh word for carrot.

PPS: Jen makes MixedMoronicArts, too.

Golden Moron Awards Himself MoronicArts’ Highest Dishonor!

~ Jen ~ 4 Comments

Oh Internet stranger, you slay me. The ignorance, it seeps right out your poophole and all over the internet. It’s like art, except you have ripped out a fart, and awarded yourself The Golden Moron Award!

Llongyfarchiadau mawr! (That’s Welsh for “Big congratulations!”)