Hm. Okay. Confession: I’m feeling all nervous and twittery around the new blog. It’s like I’m on a blind date. But without that creepy guy calculating his business deals on cocktail napkins and telling me, “You look like my ex-wife” and “How come you’re not wearing your regular TV makeup?” and “Well, MY favorite movie is ‘Rambo'” and “Sooo, do you hate me now or do you want to go somewhere else?”
True story. SO much you still don’t know.
Okay. So maybe it’s not really like THAT. Maybe it’s more like trying to impress that really beautiful boy on the water polo team in high school but not feeling beautiful enough for his beauty or even able to speak because of his beauty, but still wanting to be around his beauty.
With my new blog here being that beautiful water polo boy, you see.
It’s more like that. But without the water and those sweet, bumpy Speedos.
So …. I gotta shake it up. Break the ice. Muss things up. Rip my cyber pants. Do something STUPID because I inevitably will anyway. This one will just be on purpose. And once I’ve engaged The Stupid, I will feel much more like myself. Don’t ask. It all makes perfect sense to me.
So I think this all means that …….
I feel up for another helping of Word*Pie — THE WORLD’S STUPIDEST GAME!!
The directions: Below are some scrambled sentences from a real-live book. You unscramble ’em. Write your answers in the comments. I then yell at you, NO, THAT’S NOT RIGHT! TRY AGAIN. And then, THAT IS STILL NOT RIGHT. SHEESH!!! And stuff like that.
Remember how fun that all was? So let’s do it again! Well, YOU do it. I just sit here, actually, knowing the answers, carping at you, making you lose your will to live. FUN!
Oh, and where there are duplicate words, there are duplicate words.
Oh, and I’ll take guesses on the book, too. And, no — before you even ask — it’s not “The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.” Sheesh.
All right. Three Word*Pies. Ready? GO:
1. (Brian got it!)
wedding
tufts
old
of
ears
the
danced
of
in
sound
hair
his
bells
the
between
withered
2. (Cullen got this one!)
roses
water
until
with
cheeks
she
angry
with
young
they
burned
scalding
her
washed
3.
whined
growth
but
darkness
with
not
the
help
soundless
that
hedges
of
in
did
urge
any
the
the sound of wedding bells danced in withered tufts of hair between his ears
With angry water they burned her young cheeks
Scalding until she washed roses.
edges whined but not with growth
help urge the darkness
soundless in hedges
“His old hair bells withered in between the ears of sound wedding the tufts of danced.”
Gee, I could only get one of them.
Hey Tracey,
This is about Philip Yancey – he is on a speaking tour, and will be in your area (kind of) in a couple weeks.
He’ll be in Huntington Beach on November 4th. You can check this weblink for details.
http://www.zondervan.com/Cultures/en-US/NewsRoom/Yancey+Prayer+Tour.htm?QueryStringSite=Zondervan
FYI
“those sweet, bumpy Speedos”… ew… must. clear. my. mind.
RTG — Your first one is close. Your second two are sheer poetry.
Missy — /His old hair bells/ – HAHAHAHAHA!
Hey, Steve — sorry — your comment went into moderation! Okay. That is so cool. I’m such a Yancey freak, I’m afraid I’d make squealing noises and storm the podium. Which would be a good story, actually. Thanks for the info!
Okay, for laffs…
1. Tufts of old ears danced in the sound of the withered wedding hair in between his bells.
2. She washed her cheeks with scalding water until they burned with angry young roses.
3. Soundless hedges whined but not with the help of any growth that did urge in the darkness.
Cullen — your #2 is VERY close, actually. π
Um … coffee is some incentive doggone it.
2. She washed her young cheeks with scalding water until they burned with angry roses.
YA-HOO!! COFFEE FOR CULLEN!!
Email me. π
1. The sound of wedding bells danced in his withered old ears between the tufts of hair.
Brian — Really good guess. Getting close!
Okay last guess before I head back to work…
1. Between the sound of wedding bells the tufts of hair danced in his withered old ears.
Until my next break…
Brian — You were MUCH closer with #11. MUCH.
Last try (maybe):
1. The sound of wedding bells danced between the tufts of hair in his withered old ears.
You are SO close — I cannot stand it!!!!
1. The sound of wedding bells danced between the withered tufts of hair in his old ears.
I seriously have work I should be doing… don’t tell my boss. I have totally given up on #3.
Brian — Okay. On #15, you are only ONE word off.
I just can’t give up now if it takes the rest of the day.
1. The sound of wedding bells danced between the tufts of hair in his old withered ears.
Okay. From 15 to 19, you moved one word. Keep moving that word. There are only so many words it can modify. No more help! π
1. The withered sound of wedding bells danced between the tufts of hair in his old ears.
My stubborness is showing… how embarrassing… or is it determination… you’ve been too generous with your help already.
You’re moving the wrong word. LAST CLUE: Look at 15. Look at 19. I guess we’re thinking of different words. There are only two it could be, right? From 15 to 19? Stop moving the word you’re moving! Move the OTHER ONE!
Determination is good.
Brian …. come back .. you’re SO close … you can hate me later …
1. The old sound of wedding bells danced between the tufts of hair in his withered ears.
Not a hater!
or 1. The sound of old wedding bells danced between the tufts of hair in his withered ears.
It shouldn’t be this hard, should it. Master Cullen scores on attempt two, way to go.
Γ’β¬ΕHis old withered hair bells danced in between the ears of the tufts of wedding sound.Γ’β¬Β
Got it now.
Brian — YAAAY!! #26 is IT! COFFEE FOR BRIAN!!
Courage, my friend, courage.
Email me with your address: tracey@worshipnaked(dot)com.
Er, sorry, Missy ….
3’s still anyone’s guess, right? The soundless growth of hedges that whined did not but help urge in darkness.
(I can’t stand those hedges that grow loudly under my window.)
#3 IS up for grabs! For 3 1/2 more hours! π
I agree, Kate. Loud hedges are so rude. I usually call the cops.
I keep coming up with slander against the hedges: The hedges of darkness whined in soundless growth but that urge did not help.
Is this a Bronte novel?
Kate — No, it’s not a Bronte novel! But hedges with urges DOES seem vaguely Brontean. Hahaha! I expect Mr. Rochester to be galloping up any moment.