Why do we have this word?

garrote n. a cord, thong, or length of wire for strangling a robbery victim, enemy sentry, etc. in a surprise attack

Not just an attack, a surprise attack. Gadzooks.

Furthermore:
urolith n. same as URINARY CALCULUS (not to be confused with DIFFERENTIAL CALCULUS or INTEGRAL CALCULUS)
urinary calculus a calculus in the urinary tract

Words don't always suffice, but

Let's talk about love
Not that shit that gets sold as cheap cheap cards
and diamond bracelets
I mean, let's talk about love
Let's talk about the things that noone has time for anymore
a handwritten letter
a walk in the park
a rootbeer float, two straws
About the things they've been replaced with
chocolate and flowers on the "right days"
second-hand poetry
a big house
About how little we know, how
little we've seen, how
much we want
About how your smiles are especially charming at twilight
About how I forget myself around you
How I promise not to give you a house
or flowers or chocolate on the "right days",
but a home, no matter the where? or how large?
and daisies on Thursdays, just because
And how I will always, always write my own poetry
Let's talk
About you
About me
About us
Yes, let's talk about us

They're a cinch in the kitch

I promise!
Experimentations that happened to turn out well.. enjoy!

Pear Somethingorothers
You'll need:
vegetable oil
1 can halved pears
1/4 cup flour
2 tbsp. sugar
1 tbsp. salt
cinnamon
cheddar cheese
a bowl
a spoon
a knife
a pan
a spatula
a stove
an appetite

You'll:
Combine flour, sugar, and salt in the bowl and blend together with the spoon. Set aside. Place pan upon a hot, stove-like surface with oil covering the bottom. Slice the pear halves longways into pieces about half an inch thick. Dredge the pear slices in the dry mixture. Make sure that they are completely covered. Seriously. : )
Fry pear slices one by one or many at a time, your preference, until golden-brown, or black (also your preference). Use the spatula to flip them. (Duh.) After flipping from the first side to the second, sprinkle the cooked side with cinnamon. Right before removing the pear from the pan, place a slice of cheddar cheese on top to melt. Ok. Now remove it.. them.. whatever. Let cool. Consume. Yum.

- ~ - ~ - ~ -

This is Not Your Grandmother's Pineapple Upside-Down Cake
Trust me, mine had a fit. Almost wouldn't eat it.

You'll need:
one box of yellow cake mix
one box of lime gelatin
one pack of hot cocoa mix
one can of crushed pineapple
whipped topping
measuring spoons
runcible spoon
a couple bowls
nonstick spray
two oven-safe pans
can opener
an oven
oven mits
a sense of adventure

You'll:
Preheat oven to 325. Spray pans with the nonstick spray. Prepare yellow cake mix as directed on the box. Mix three tablespoons of lime gelatin into the cake mix. Looks yummy, right? Now, pour the batter into your two pans. (Size and shape don't matter at all. I used a large rectangular pan and a small square one for a neat stacked effect. Plus, they're all I could find.) Sprinkle the hot cocoa mix over the batter, go ahead and use the whole pack. Use the runcible spoon to stir the mix down into the batter, not too well, though. This creates a nice choclately swireled effect. Bake for 30 minutes or until the top(s) bouncy back all springy-like when you poke them. In the mean time, open the can of crushed pineapple and drain off the juice. Now, mix the remaining geltain powder with the pineapple.
Wait for the cakes to be done.
Ding!
Ready?
Good.
Now let them cool. Completely.
This requires more waiting, sorry.
Cool?
Excellent.
Place the first layer on whatever dish you have handy. Slather a layer of whipped topping on, thick as you like. I chose not to cover the sides to show off the cake a little, but if you want the green confection to be a surprise then by all means go ahead and cover them. Next, layer that icky looking pineapple concoction. Continue this process with as many layers as you have.
Now, dare to try it. Convince people you know to try it. Convine people you don't know to try it.
On second thought.. don't. That could be horrendously misconsrued.
In any case, it's delicious.

Maybe?

"The time will come," the old one crooned,
"when you'll know what you want-
that voice, those eyes, those tender
lips will be your only thoughts."
I heard her words and knew her faith
that sometime in my life
my knight would come and steal my
heart and take me for his wife.
I watched and waited patiently
for that fabled day to come
when some beauty would appear to me
and make me fall in love.
Much time has passed and I have known
many a loveless kiss,
but oh! those eyes! those lips! that voice!
I've found my happiness.
It blossomed forth so naturally,
just as the old one promised,
but neither she nor I foresaw
a lover quite like this.

About them

A veces demaciado ruidosamento
pero dulce y amable tambien
Caleb, mi companero adorado

Adds sugar to soda
adds spice to my life
Chaos, who won't dance

Tastes as good as she looks
my bedroom bombshell
meet Cristian, the luscious

Like Al Gore on speed
my tormentor, my TiPlink
Davis, the unbearable

A god among men
my late-night chat-up
Fat Tony Giovanni. Enough said.

Lives in palindromes
my humanoid encyclopedia
Heather, la competetiva

A vision of flamboyance
my suspected kin
Katie, the not-so-chaste

Always into some(onethingwhere) new
my "hey, let's try this" girl
That spells Kirstyn

Slept through stats (and passed)
abuser of my tickle spots
Nathan, the nerd

Sounds like the 60s
the voice in my head
Owen, who won't grow up

Emo only in writing
my anti-civics, anti-Smith co-conspirator
Paige, a budding Progressive

Speaks of love, sounds like Africa
my quiet riot
Rose, die mooi engel

All ears and smiles
my mistletoe harvesting buddy
Shanna, the possesive

Destined for assassination
my improbability factor
Thad, with the hair

Likes to play Switzerland
my verbal punching bag
Tyler, the creepy

I have a problem

I like order. There's a comfort about a well-aligned shelf of books and an evely spaced place setting that simply can't be found anywhere else. Conversely, there's an unmatchable abrasiveness about a crooked picture frame, an uneven layer of icing. I can't explain it, but I'm much happier when things are as I think they should be- without this I am irritable, distractable, and generally bad-off.
This is not my problem.
My problem is female, does not share my love of organization, and works with me. I like to run a neat hostess station- keep the silverware tightly rolled, stack the menus evenly- it isn't difficult, but some part of her rebels against this system. She lays place settings pell-mell, flings the menus into utter disarray, but worst of all (the absolute of the Hostessing Cardinal Sins) she draws silverware from the decorative chest rather than the wrought baskets specified for that purpose. It's appalling. Even worse, she had the gall to tell me that that's how we're going to do it. Point blank. Undermining both the well-worn system and my seniorative authority. I abhor confrontations, possibly with more gusto than I resent disorder, but her ways must be mended. She's not fit to work with the public. I only hope Sinan has the good sense to put her back making salads, where she belongs.

If you were to crack my head open, these would spill out

Forgetmenots, judgemenots,
call them what you may,
my linguistic buds

Bloody mannequins
on a mock battlefield
in remembrance

Fruit fly flitting
and living and loving for
two weeks, max

The sun's affections
lost on scholars-
exam week

Outside my window the bird
drags morning out of bed
three hours early

The warm spring breeze
whispers through the curtains
in a thousand languages