Bump, gurgle, gurgle!
Pnårp bumped and gurgled around underground, where he is now found. Dugongs abounded and pepperoni was consumed.
Pnårp’s docile & perfunctory page
The thoughts of Phillip Norbert Årp, recorded every Sunday since March 7, 1999 in the shape of a website, autographed by Rory Calhoun and Alyssa Milano’s feet. Lawn gnomes not included. You won’t be disconcerted. Deployed where prohibited by snore. Made from 35% recycled toilet paper.
Latest posts
The wheel of life
Pnårp went spinning on the hamster wheel of life this week, even though there is no wheel and his Christmas lights weren’t straight.
Yes, it did (softly)
Pnårp lay here softly—yes, it did?—tacky blow-up Halloween lawn ornaments (did not) abound(!).
A hankering and a beanwatering
Pnårp moldered more boldly, wondering about em-dashes, en-dashes, ell-dashes, Mike the Headless Chicken, and what it’s like to be out of his gourd—but on his beanwater.
A paracosm and a long Swede
Pnårp moldered more boldly, wondering about the comical paracosm of his life, revolting long Swedes, meatballs and sausage, and how sinister the ambidextrous are.
A potato and a crisation
Pnårp moldered more boldly, wondering about potatoes, cevition, crisation, defutution, dumb potted plants, and an old geezer geezing to and fro. Also, dandruff.
A grasshopper and a tenderloin
Pnårp moldered more boldly, wondering about grasshoppers, legs, tenderloins, Trills, and an inventory of daisies.
Moldering boldly
Pnårp moldered boldly under a patch of fungus, wondering how his kerfrumpt, skeezle-wumpus, and Nurdlebutt were doing without him.
Being dead means…
Pnårp thought about all the ways being dead has its advantages—and there are so many!
Yes, indeed
Pnårp maintained that being dead has its advantages!
Being dead
Pnårp discovered that being dead has its advantages!
Six days on Nizgidge Ridge
Pnårp watched with his huzzey-muffet as the whole world dissolved into thick, lurid horse mucus. Then the grues came.
Another week on Nizgidge Ridge
Pnårp fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. Cicadas sung a song of doom and a swamp completed the tune.
A week on Nizgidge Ridge
Pnårp began to regret last week’s thousand-word salad—especially when he realized he was out of thousand-island dressing!
A sunset on Nizgidge Ridge
Pnårp watched the Sun sink into the unthinking depths below the Earth, while groundhogs oinked, grunions surfed, and Beetles flew off like butterflies.
Hirpled, hobbled, blithely a calzone out the door
Pnårp continued to hirple, his huzzey-muffet was hobbled, and his buttocks smarted like no one’s business!
A sneezeless day
Pnårp got through the entire day without sneezing. This was not for lack of trying.
The purple hirple
Pnårp hirpled about, burping, empurpled about the countenance, until everyone else started hirpling too.
Underground poopworld
Pnårp used to think there was an entire underground world in the sewers made out of poop. But then he learned the truth.
Fourth, fifth, sixth… of July
Pnårp had second thoughts about eating all those unexploded fireworks… last year. But now it’s this year!
Defenestrated accoutrements and that horse again
Pnårp discalced his huzzey-muffet, got kicked in the head (but by the horse), and discovered his sticks of butter had all been burgled!
Catatonic and a cat tonic
Pnårp wondered why all zippers have that little square hole in their pullers, then had to deal with a clockroach and sockroach infestation. Also, high-heel sandals but not enough nurdles!
…How to ribbit this week
Pnårp thought he forgot how to ribbit, too! Then… ribbit, ribbit!
I think I forgot…
Pnårp thought he forgot how to write this week! Then he did forget!
Toenails, a treatise, a brass bag
Pnårp solved the problem of them flying across the room in every direction! (No, not the bats.)
Breathing had become boring
Pnårp didn’t lose a single fingernail this week but then realized his nose had become utterly superfluous!
And then what happened next—
Pnårp began his day with sour coffee, stolen newspapers, and a traffic jam. And then what happened next…
Accelerating my celery
Pnårp pondered the Twiceler, Ogo, Eëtal-Otoh-Satt, Eëtarrh-Otorrh-Sharrtt, Zorb McBorbley, and accelerating his celery until his coccyx broke!
Stuck to a glue trap
Pnårp found himself in a variety of sticky pickles and miserable failures this week, which ended with the stickiest pickle of all! (Ribbit!)
The tubular boob tube
Pnårp recounted the years while using a plethora of apostrophes—too many to count! (But not one here!)
And then I scrolled down
Pnårp furiously scrolled down and down and down and down and down and down and down and finally hit the bottom of the page!
Where all the payphones went
Pnårp finally revealed to the world where all those payphones have gone. (It has nothing to do with frogs, toads, or Rick Astley.)
Trivial nonsense to throw a fit over
Pnårp learned to not get upset over meaningless piffle and learned to love these new doubled-up days! Quack, crank, crunk!
A polished turd
Rainbows were shooting out its ass and angels were singing and praising its holiness—it was the finest polished turd that Pnårp found!
Ribbit… ribbit… ribbit… ribbit?
Ribbit… ribbit… ribbit. Ribbit… ribbit… ribbit… ribbit. Ribbit?
CyScope, Yahoots, Infosunk?
Pnårp browsed websites from the 1990s, lit a lighter, ate a lozenge, glimpsed a pair of ducks, and suffered one day repeating all week long.
Whose skin is it now?
Pnårp experienced jumping spiders jumping, days emerging out of order, insufficient quantities of flip-flops, and a nightmare about swapping skins.
Cheez-Its: ghastly horrors
In an unusual turn of events, Pnårp noshed upon unusual amounts of the usual things, then regretted the ghastly horrors that ensued. Also, a spider.
My toilet float… sank
Pnårp watched in dismay as his toilet float deflated and sank. Phippil Ronbert Prå remained at large. Also, gnome pee.
Ribbit… ribbit… ribbit…
Ribbit… ribbit… ribbit. Ribbit… ribbit… ribbit… ribbit.
Meat-based vegetables
Pnårp painted some spare ribs green and called them celery. Then things got weird.
The man who lived inside walls
Pnårp defeated a nefarious foe this week—who lived inside his bathroom wall!—paving the way to victory in this year’s gurning competition!
Too-quiet, two-tone, too-soon
Having defeated a fish in hand-to-hand combat, a mere ha’week away, Pnårp will best every other gurner! Ha! Ha, ha, ha!
No more ghoughphtheightteeaux
Pnårp promised there’d be no more ghoughphtheightteeaux, but then desecration and execrations over defecation got the best of this blog entry. Followed by an apostrophe catastrophe.
A horse, a printer, a chipmunk, a ruined handbag
Pnårp and his huzzey-muffet had an out-of-order horse adventure this week—which also solved his printer problems!
Too-quiet restrooms
Pnårp thought about gurning in the near future, visited his favorite loo, stacked some cardboard boxes, then made sonorous noises. Phpbphththth!!
Chickens—salad or grain?
Pnårp asked 2024’s toughest questions: Chickens—salad or grain? Potatoes—eyes or salad?
A laughing stock
Pnårp made a laughing stock out of himself by eating all the slide whistles made of cheese. And there were randy ocelots.
Eating a lot of Frosted Flakes
Pnårp put down his nose hairbrush and went to work on the week’s machinations, ruminations, and tintinnabulations. Then, ocelots happened again.
Have a good one
Pnårp had a good one. A good one, all right. A really good one.