So here’s the scoop
we’re in it to win it but not to spin it
on it’s head just to play it real
get the news out so everyone knows.
Give the real scoop, go with the flow
this time it’s going to be a real show.
All of the latest on celebrities. It’s all lies. People will never know the truth until they walk in their shoes. Constantly hiding their true selves for fear of being picked apart.
It was there. Right in front of her. She had it. She had the entire thing she had been waiting for, for her entire career. The scoop. The story of a lifetime that would bring her over the top. And yet…she hesitated.
His two hands folded into tiny cups, scooping this tangled frame from a bed sheet of horrors, lifting her towards the door and setting her free. It was about time someone did.
Oh, no, not again! Honestly, this new puppy of mine isn’t getting any better, no matter how much I try to tell him NOT TO GO IN THE HOUSE! I scold him when he’s bad, I give him treats when he’s good, and yet here I am, paper towel in hand, scooping up the little “present” he left me.
Scooping the water into her worn palms she let the water fall from her cupped hands over his face. Cleaning the body was always part of the ritual before burial and as she brushed his hair she felt the need to sing the songs of the heart in her native tongue. Skin like worn leather. Eyes the colour of the night sky. He had been the wise as the eagle and brave as the mighty bear, and with his passing had come a sorrow heavier than any of the late fall rains.
i ate so much ice cream yesterday. gosh i wish i could just throw it up. that’s wrong though, because i’ve been told that’s wrong and i believe it. i just wish i hadn’t gone back for seconds. ugh.
I scooped her up in my arms and looked down at her matted face of toil. A kitten with only three legs, one eye, and no claws.
“How much do you want for her?”
“Eh? Oh. Um, she’s pretty jacked up. Just take her, nobody else seems to want her.”
Funny.
I’d heard that in regard to myself too often to count. But not today. Today, a pretty, green eye looked straight at my single brown eye, mirrored by an eye patch, and thought…”Hero.”
And I looked back and thought…the exact same thing.
ice cream is a wonderful thing. adults, children, anybody can enjoy ice cream. scoops upon glorious scoops. flavor after flavor, an ice cream cone is a thing of beauty. a real piece of art.
icecream, sprinkles. wow, a scoop of icecream would be delicious right about now. yum. how about chocolate… or vanilla. i would love to share some with you.
I was my the shore having my ice cream so many different faces a collective being, being there for one reason. Blue hues and eventually the setting sun, sitting there on the beach, nothing could touch me. Nothing, nothing, at all… Foamy water and forgotten orange pales, and a flip flop here and there. Fingers entwined with your other half, oh no not me the couple down the shore.
the poop up into a bowl so that it can be deposited correctly. poop is never good when not scooped. or you can slide it into the bowl. with your tongue.
My wrists ached from a long day at work. Loud mouthed children and their glutonous parents had been in and out of the icecream shop all day. I served enough ice cream to turn me off of it, at least until tomorrow.
‘that’ll be $2.57.’
the ice cream shop employee stated from behind the antique counter.
every saturday, whether it be 110 fahrenheit outside or 10 celsius, i came for ice cream, and it was always the same.
always the same cold, sweet cream.
he knew me much too well.
single scoop of chocolate. he knew that.
he knew my first name.
he knew my face.
he knew too much.
I got something for you to scoop. Today at work I realized that I have nothing to look forward to anymore. I’ve accomplished everything I can in my current position and I just fucking hate it. I hate my job so much. I have panic attacks everyday. But i stay because of loyalty to my manager
what’s the scoop? That’s always the question people ask. Does there always have to be one? or can we all simply enjoy a scoop free society? Not likely, this society is built on scoops.
ice cream. news stories. poop. pooper scooper. mmm now i want some ice cream. chocolate. and i’m going to get some. with whip cream. and maybe add some peanut butter.
It was just one blob that fell onto my shoe. I had just turned around from the ice cream parlor. Somehow the first top circle had tipped from the cone and struck my left sneakers. And suddenly, I felt devastated like a little kid.
What’d I’d give for a scoop (or two) of ice cream. Right now it’s around triple-digits. It wasn’t nearly this hot last night, at the sleepover. We didn’t sleep at all. Instead we watched Moulin Rouge and fangirled about how amazing Christian was. What he said, and this my favorite line, is still ringing in my ears.
“Thank you for curing me of my dangerous obsession with love.”
Not sure what this has to do with ice cream.
I would like some icecream. Lol@ icecream. A nice scooop of WTF icecream. that’s what i think when i see the word scoop. Mmkay? I’m hungry now. Dang. ):
ice cream! or people trying to write newspaper stories in the 20s. what is the scoop on ice cream? worst newspaper pun ever. but…still i giggle. good times in the 20s. newspapers were the bees knees.
I scoop the ice cream into my cup, in torn desperation. I want the taste, not the weight in my stomach, and I resist, but know i’m going to fail as i reach for my spoon.
I just finished the melty leftover of a scoop of cotton candy ice cream from Rite Aid. it was so brightly colored it looked as if it’d be un appetizing..
The newsroom was abuzz with the rhythmic sounds of writers tapping away at their keyboards. Stories flowed through a consciousness of current events, tragedies and local flavor. It was today that Riley would uncover the story of her career.
People always think they have to have the inside scoop about everything. You know, sometimes it’s just better to not know any of those stupid details. That way you don’t get bogged down in all the mucky crap that doesn’t matter. Not ignorance, just being picky about what you pay attention to. Time is valuable, don’t waste it.
The thing you want most as a journalistic cliche. The book by E Waugh?
The thing that ice cream is delivered with.
Oddly onomatopoeic word.
Not something I am so fond of.
hah! and the time reset when I hit the back button – so does that mean i can write twice as much? Is that a scoop? Or am I cheating? I suspect that this is cheating which is why I am writing a little off topic for this bit.
We sat in the small cafe, the music distant. It was so relaxed, and I licked at my gelato. Outside the sun shone down, but the breeze was nice. Inside, it was quiet and comfortable.
Ice cream. Fresh from the Haagen-Dazs tray. Cold, beaded sweat on the outside of the drum. In a metal spoon. You know, the kind ice-cream scoopers use.
So here’s the scoop
we’re in it to win it but not to spin it
on it’s head just to play it real
get the news out so everyone knows.
Give the real scoop, go with the flow
this time it’s going to be a real show.
sometimes i want to know why ice cream is speheric. hmm
He scooped her up off her feet in one, sweeping motion. He moved her out of the way of that runaway truck, and she promised to love him forever.
scoop that ice cream now
my favorite flavor is you
forever i’ll eat
All of the latest on celebrities. It’s all lies. People will never know the truth until they walk in their shoes. Constantly hiding their true selves for fear of being picked apart.
I went to the doctor and asked for an extra scoop. He asked me what I meant and I said to even out the lil scoop I have on the left side.
It was there. Right in front of her. She had it. She had the entire thing she had been waiting for, for her entire career. The scoop. The story of a lifetime that would bring her over the top. And yet…she hesitated.
His two hands folded into tiny cups, scooping this tangled frame from a bed sheet of horrors, lifting her towards the door and setting her free. It was about time someone did.
Oh, no, not again! Honestly, this new puppy of mine isn’t getting any better, no matter how much I try to tell him NOT TO GO IN THE HOUSE! I scold him when he’s bad, I give him treats when he’s good, and yet here I am, paper towel in hand, scooping up the little “present” he left me.
Today would be the percect day to die. I saw the sun dome up. I saw a plane take off and a cran did too……so this is the scoop, I could so worse
Scooping the water into her worn palms she let the water fall from her cupped hands over his face. Cleaning the body was always part of the ritual before burial and as she brushed his hair she felt the need to sing the songs of the heart in her native tongue. Skin like worn leather. Eyes the colour of the night sky. He had been the wise as the eagle and brave as the mighty bear, and with his passing had come a sorrow heavier than any of the late fall rains.
i ate so much ice cream yesterday. gosh i wish i could just throw it up. that’s wrong though, because i’ve been told that’s wrong and i believe it. i just wish i hadn’t gone back for seconds. ugh.
I scooped her up in my arms and looked down at her matted face of toil. A kitten with only three legs, one eye, and no claws.
“How much do you want for her?”
“Eh? Oh. Um, she’s pretty jacked up. Just take her, nobody else seems to want her.”
Funny.
I’d heard that in regard to myself too often to count. But not today. Today, a pretty, green eye looked straight at my single brown eye, mirrored by an eye patch, and thought…”Hero.”
And I looked back and thought…the exact same thing.
ice cream is a wonderful thing. adults, children, anybody can enjoy ice cream. scoops upon glorious scoops. flavor after flavor, an ice cream cone is a thing of beauty. a real piece of art.
I love ice cream! I’d like a triple scoop cone with chocolate, cookies and cream, and mint chocolate chip… YUM!
icecream, sprinkles. wow, a scoop of icecream would be delicious right about now. yum. how about chocolate… or vanilla. i would love to share some with you.
here’s the scoop: i dont know what anyone wants. it changes each day, and no one knows especially for themselves. please.
I was my the shore having my ice cream so many different faces a collective being, being there for one reason. Blue hues and eventually the setting sun, sitting there on the beach, nothing could touch me. Nothing, nothing, at all… Foamy water and forgotten orange pales, and a flip flop here and there. Fingers entwined with your other half, oh no not me the couple down the shore.
Scoop. what is today’s Scoop/
I don’t know. Ask The Age or The herald sun. My parents like the age. I think the herald sun is cool..
the poop up into a bowl so that it can be deposited correctly. poop is never good when not scooped. or you can slide it into the bowl. with your tongue.
My wrists ached from a long day at work. Loud mouthed children and their glutonous parents had been in and out of the icecream shop all day. I served enough ice cream to turn me off of it, at least until tomorrow.
‘that’ll be $2.57.’
the ice cream shop employee stated from behind the antique counter.
every saturday, whether it be 110 fahrenheit outside or 10 celsius, i came for ice cream, and it was always the same.
always the same cold, sweet cream.
he knew me much too well.
single scoop of chocolate. he knew that.
he knew my first name.
he knew my face.
he knew too much.
and so he had to die.
I got something for you to scoop. Today at work I realized that I have nothing to look forward to anymore. I’ve accomplished everything I can in my current position and I just fucking hate it. I hate my job so much. I have panic attacks everyday. But i stay because of loyalty to my manager
what’s the scoop? That’s always the question people ask. Does there always have to be one? or can we all simply enjoy a scoop free society? Not likely, this society is built on scoops.
ice cream. news stories. poop. pooper scooper. mmm now i want some ice cream. chocolate. and i’m going to get some. with whip cream. and maybe add some peanut butter.
scoops of ice cream. ill have one. maybe two. three is too much, unless of course they are itsy bitsy and ill take like 10. blah…. :)
It was just one blob that fell onto my shoe. I had just turned around from the ice cream parlor. Somehow the first top circle had tipped from the cone and struck my left sneakers. And suddenly, I felt devastated like a little kid.
What’d I’d give for a scoop (or two) of ice cream. Right now it’s around triple-digits. It wasn’t nearly this hot last night, at the sleepover. We didn’t sleep at all. Instead we watched Moulin Rouge and fangirled about how amazing Christian was. What he said, and this my favorite line, is still ringing in my ears.
“Thank you for curing me of my dangerous obsession with love.”
Not sure what this has to do with ice cream.
Ice cream. Lollipops. Puppies.
That’s whats up.
I would like some icecream. Lol@ icecream. A nice scooop of WTF icecream. that’s what i think when i see the word scoop. Mmkay? I’m hungry now. Dang. ):
ice cream! or people trying to write newspaper stories in the 20s. what is the scoop on ice cream? worst newspaper pun ever. but…still i giggle. good times in the 20s. newspapers were the bees knees.
Scoop. Like scoops that cute little ice cream parlor on the main road thru town.I can only think about ice cream.
She scooped the dirt up into handfuls and stacked them outside of her fort.
With that task finished, she moved on to creating a door, which, upon completion, would lock to keep outsiders out.
“I just need some metal,” she thought to herself.
I scoop the ice cream into my cup, in torn desperation. I want the taste, not the weight in my stomach, and I resist, but know i’m going to fail as i reach for my spoon.
I just finished the melty leftover of a scoop of cotton candy ice cream from Rite Aid. it was so brightly colored it looked as if it’d be un appetizing..
The newsroom was abuzz with the rhythmic sounds of writers tapping away at their keyboards. Stories flowed through a consciousness of current events, tragedies and local flavor. It was today that Riley would uncover the story of her career.
People always think they have to have the inside scoop about everything. You know, sometimes it’s just better to not know any of those stupid details. That way you don’t get bogged down in all the mucky crap that doesn’t matter. Not ignorance, just being picky about what you pay attention to. Time is valuable, don’t waste it.
The thing you want most as a journalistic cliche. The book by E Waugh?
The thing that ice cream is delivered with.
Oddly onomatopoeic word.
Not something I am so fond of.
hah! and the time reset when I hit the back button – so does that mean i can write twice as much? Is that a scoop? Or am I cheating? I suspect that this is cheating which is why I am writing a little off topic for this bit.
We sat in the small cafe, the music distant. It was so relaxed, and I licked at my gelato. Outside the sun shone down, but the breeze was nice. Inside, it was quiet and comfortable.
Ice cream. Fresh from the Haagen-Dazs tray. Cold, beaded sweat on the outside of the drum. In a metal spoon. You know, the kind ice-cream scoopers use.