January 24, 2011

My Borf's Flabble

UPDATED: winner announced below

Those of you who follow me on Twitter will know that I've been having a hard time today. My writing skills have completely dried up. Perhaps it's the school holiays. Perhaps it's the heat. Perhaps it's a passing phase. Perhaps it's not. Perhaps my words escaped me permanently overnight, fled from my brain like so many refugees seeking a richer, more rewarding environment in which to form sentences.

Either way, I am broken.

I wanted to write you a blog post today. I haven't written a post since last Monday, and I knew you would be hanging out, desperately. (Except that I didn't know that at all; in truth, I was terrified that you'd forget all about me in a week, but I didn't wish to burden you with my gross insecurities.)

What to do for inspiration? Well, one of my Twitter friends suggested I pray to my altar of Simon Baker, which was a great idea, except that my husband trampled on it recently in a fit of pique, when he found me worshipping at Simon when I was supposed to be cooking the dinner. So no luck there.

Someone else suggested I 'start at the end' as the beginning is way too hard. This was a fabulous bit of advice, except that unfortunately I couldn't think of an end any more than I could think of a beginning.

So where did that leave me? Well, I could give up, let down my blog followers and wallow in wordless despair, which actually sounded very tempting (there's nothing I love better than a good wallow now and again). Or I could pull myself together, think laterally, and use the resources around me.

And that's exactly what I did. I used the resources around me. Or, to put it another way, I got my son to find words for me.

Or, to be precise, I got my son to make them up.

So here they are. New words, to replace my lost vocabulary. Brought to you by Little Man, my eleven year old son.

Borf (a person who makes up words)
Flabble (a constant stream of words usually from one’s mouth)
Traditude (verb: to show leadership to a group)
Multi-scarfee (many ways to annoy someone)
Grassmorp/Supergrassmorp (to emphasize a word/to overemphasize a word)
Melldoublon (1: to confuse 2: to betray)
Scrt (1: a species of weasel 2: to flee)
Delbor (an unnecessary weight)
Rumbnulb (dull, lifeless)
Hissdalinger (an item valued only to it’s owner)
Plook ( to say something straightforward or understandable)
Cerflunkier (exhaustion)
Gingert (an abnormal growth on ones ear)
Grulg (verb: to enjoy enthusiastically)
Snurf (verb: to suffer from an emotional disturbance)
Hydrofluffa (a waterproof woolly material)
Defragil (adjective: that which can cause allergic reactions)

Great, huh? But wait - there's more!

A prize will be awarded to the person who creates the best sentence with these words. The winner and runner-up will be selected by Little Man (under my strict supervision). The judges' decision is final and no correspondance will be entered into, except for bribes, which are totally encouraged. Winners will be announced on Monday, 31st January 2011. In big, important font. Give it your best shot.

And for more of my son's genius, go to Sock Doc. It rocks.

AND.... we have a winner (announced 5 days late (and yes, I am ashamed)).
The two runners up are naehutch and Annieb25. Both of you lovely ladies get to design your own Sock for my son's Sock Doc site. Please email me what kind of sock you would like (see Sock Doc for other Socks) and email your specifications to me at k.sack@live.com
And the WINNER is Agnes. Agnes, you get to design your own sock as well, plus be awarded your very own SOCK TROPHY!!!! This is the first of its kind and a huge honour.
So congratulations to our winner and runners up!!!

29 comments:

  1. There once was a Scrt which realised it had a Delbor. After much investigation and deliberation, a Scrt doctor informed the affable Scrt that he had a protruding gingert. There was much wailing as the Scrt began to snurf which resulted in rather a lot of cerflunkier. That poor old Scrt indeed.

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  2. *stands and applauds*
    My son gives it 4.8 stars. Out of 5!

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  3. haha...my three year old does this all the time and when we ask her what the new "word" means she ALWAYS has an answer...
    bajection - a place you make up for hiding
    girflet - a letter you write for nobody in particular

    PS.
    http://oneminutewriter.blogspot.com/ is always good for a mini writing workout

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  4. I don't understand half of what you write,but I do grulg it.I shall wait until normal service is resumed, and you plook again........

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  5. Woohoo! Geez Fendy is such a defragil to a borg such as yourself Kerri :P

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  6. Once upon a time, a wise and masterful Borf woke up one morning to discover he could no longer flabble. He had no choice but to plook sadly. This threatened his very tratitudinal livelihood. He was so very snurfed, it rendered him rumbnulb, he prayed it would be temporary as he wondered if his life would ever be grulged again. :(

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  7. Kerri, if you don't stop confusing me with all this flabbling, I shall die of cerflunkier and become rumbnulb. Now that would cause my fans a lot of snurfling.Stop,or I shall throw you to the ground and cover you with hydrofluffa.

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  8. I think Twitchy should be disqualified for terrible conjugation of snurf ;P

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  9. Rick, my son is tradituding and has decided you are engaging in multi-scarfee and that 'snurfed' is an excellent congugation.

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  10. My son has given Twitchy 4.899999999.....

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  11. Since you started flabbling on your blog, you delightful borf, I have spent way to much time here, which is multi-scarfeeing to my wife, and I have also put on a lot of delbor......

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  12. I am a rumbnulb borf and I snurf. My flabble is now coming from my gingert, not my mouth. I am melldoubloning my scrts. I have tried to traditude both my scrt and her baby scrts, but they keep covering my gingert with hydrofluffa. They claim my new source of flabble is just another way to multi-scarfee them. They say I am not showing true traditude at all. But the hydrofluffa is defragil. My body has become swollen with delbor. I am suffering from cerflunkier. This hydrofluffa is hissdalinger. I wish I could grulg it but I have to be plook. I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!!

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  13. Ha! Even when you can't write, you can supergrassmop write lady.

    Now excuse me, I have to go run and get rid of the delbor that clings to my thighs.

    I made up a new word the other day. whoe. Please give it a meaning. Hoe? Shoe? Combo?

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  14. On re-reading (Rick, despite being judged by the young MasterBorf to be within the rules), I admit I rushed it and could've done better with my conjugation *as well as* my cruddy punctuation. *Could* there be a redeeming pt II of our sad story on the way? Is that within the non-existent guidelines?

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  15. Glumber was grulging the visit from his cousin Flunk.
    Flunk was a Scrt, and all Scrts are Borfs, so the flabble was never rumbnulb!
    Glumber gave Flunk his favourite Hissdalinger, wrapped in Hydrofluffa.
    “I have to plook” said Flunk. “You melldoublon me, Glumber. Stop this mutli-scarfee! You know hydrofluffa is defragil to me. And this delbor you’ve given me … useless! It may as well be a gingert”.

    Glumber was quite snurfed. They flabbled and argued until they collapsed with cerflunkier.

    Glumber’s wife arrived home and with traditude she put socks on their heads and put them to bed.

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  16. We have a new frontrunner!
    Naehutch, that was AMAZING.

    P.S. Bern: Whoe apparently means 'to call for immediate help'. So there you go.

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  17. Why thank you!

    *waits nervously for comments on conjugation and such* :P

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  18. Sue (Just_Leithal)January 24, 2011 at 7:41 PM

    This would have to be the best post and comments I have seen for zonks.. I only wish I had even a scrap of the talent of everyone involved! Well done.
    Oh and the Captcha is winechen.....how prescient..I am drinking wine and propose winechen means continue drinking until satiation. *hic*

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  19. I pop on my hydrofluffa jacket and hit the streets to snurf. I soon take it off as it's grassmorp hot despite the rumbnulb sky. Carrying it is multi-scarfee and delbor, so I leave it on a park bench. I figure it's hissdalinger and likely to be defragil to others since pus from my gingert has dripped on the collar. I continue a few steps, my cerflunkier easing. I pass the time as borfs do. No poetry today, mere plook. The park is crowded; the scrts grulg the sunshine. One traditudes by grabbing my jacket from the bench. I respond, running, flapping my arms, and shouting flabble to melldoublon it. No response.

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  20. I love it. But my head hurts too much to even contemplate entering. Good luck to those hardier types who do!

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  21. What about Mindfuckery? Or just as it sounds I guess. To fuck with ones mind.

    Word Verification: imilinge

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  22. Nae, you farking got it. I capitulate.

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  23. Okay I am going to plook here: I can not supergrassmorp your need to use the new Hydrofluffa shoes because the snurfing that occurs when you drop Delbors on your toes is becoming a multi-scarfee on Twitter and the snurfing and cerflunkier it is causing me while I worry about your flabble on this is really a delbor in my life.

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  24. My friend Kerri’s son, a true borf, has always been able to show great traditude, particularly when dealing with family members who are prone to much snurf. I believe it takes great plook when trying to explain to his sister that a gingert should not be classed as a hissdangler particularly when it looks to be made of hydrofulffa. It causes delbor and can make her face appear rumbmulb, much like the flabble that she often speaks. Combine this with the multi-scarfee skills she has and it is a tough life for such an esteemed borf who often finds himself suffering much cerflunkier.

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  25. What Annie said.
    My captcha word was matandj. Which means "a group of people with shared interests and aims, eg. a brotherhood, or blog commenters"

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  26. My son is awed by the wit and talent shown here. He has informed me that he will print out all entries, cut them up, place them next to each other, and gradually eliminate until the winner is decided. Good luck to you all. May god (or the force) be with you.

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  27. What Annie said.
    My captcha word was matandj. Which means "a group of people with shared interests and aims, eg. a brotherhood, or blog commenters"

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  28. I pop on my hydrofluffa jacket and hit the streets to snurf. I soon take it off as it's grassmorp hot despite the rumbnulb sky. Carrying it is multi-scarfee and delbor, so I leave it on a park bench. I figure it's hissdalinger and likely to be defragil to others since pus from my gingert has dripped on the collar. I continue a few steps, my cerflunkier easing. I pass the time as borfs do. No poetry today, mere plook. The park is crowded; the scrts grulg the sunshine. One traditudes by grabbing my jacket from the bench. I respond, running, flapping my arms, and shouting flabble to melldoublon it. No response.

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  29. Why thank you!

    *waits nervously for comments on conjugation and such* :P

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