The mismatched pair of clothes that I saw my best friend wear, was making me nauseous. The colors didn’t mix well together and she looked like a candy corn with fireworks firing out of the top of it.
My clothes never match. My parents say it’s because I have no fashion sense.
The truth is I just don’t care. That’s why I wear spots with stripes–who has time to think about that stuff anyway?
His face was scared and bloody but his eyes were filled with burning black rage. Skin only covered half of his face with the other burnt and raw. His name was Harvey Dent and his mismatched face had driven him mad. His name was two – face.
Death had plagued his life and misery seemed to dominate a large selection of his time.
She awoke that morning to open her newly empty sock drawer next to her bed. Only to find two socks, apart from each other. One red, one black and white, imperfectly striped. Yet, the day before, she had the biggest sock collection on the block. And now only two stupid mismatched socks? Bloody nonsense!
Looking around in frustration, she suddenly stopped. She knew, deep inside somewhere, in the pits of the dense groves of her distant childhood. This wasn’t just a middle school prank. This was the real world. This was an omen, a grave warning, a reminder of danger that was nonnegotiable. And it could only be from one person.
Suddenly, she heard a voice from the doorway.
“Hello. It looks as though we’ve met again” the aged purple teddy bear said through his furry lips, a voice so vile to make a child cry.
But no. She wasn’t a child anymore.
“Fluffles!” She screamed.
the war had begun.
—
TO BE CONTINUED
She didn’t know why there were only two socks in her drawer. And why one was red, and the other striped. Mismatched. But she had the biggest sock collection on the block! And now only two?? Bloody nonsense!
But she knew, somewhere deep inside, that it was an omen, a grave warning from Fluffles.
TO BE CONTINUED.
The socks were all wrong. None of them paired up, which was perplexing. Even the black ones all were slightly different from each other – a shade off, different ribbing, different lengths. She scratched her head and checked the basket again. Strange things seemed to be happening more often these days and she didn’t know whether to attribute it to her advancing age or to something more mysterious.
These socks! Mismatched. I can buy 6 or 12 identical pairs, and donate all my old, unholey socks, and solve the problem semi-permanently, at least until I lose a sock, or they start to get holey. The problem will recur, however. Like fingernails.
socks, him and I? thing is we look great, there aren’t real problems, do I find a way to agree? he works his way back to me too, doesn’t push too hard, mismatched/attached
Socks. All over the place. Not a single one had a match, but Hermione didn’t care. She pinned them all over the place. And each night, a few disappeared. It was working. SPEW was actually working!!
This word makes me think of how others may view me and my husband. When we met some might say we where perfectly matched in personality and looks. Now as the years have gone by the truth is – he has aged very well, he is very handsome. I on the other hand look older than my years, unfashionable and frumpy. I’m sure others look and think we are ‘mismatched’ Its an uncomfortable thought to admit
I grabbed a pink sock, pulling it on one foot. There was another pink sock looking at me calmly from the drawer. But a purple sock winked at me. It promised to let me show my personality. I grabbed it and pulled it on.
god sometimes i feel so mismatched with people. like i cant fit in anywhere. i feel like im left out. when you want to match with someone so much but i never works out.
Well, it seemed crazy at the time, but the whole mismatched socks thing got him noticed all right. Hundreds of little tiny moths flocked to his legs like he was a lightbulb….not exactly what he wanted.
They were a mismatched. They liked opposite things and never agreed on anything. It’s like when you put a panda and a parrot together – doesn’t work! Mismatched!
she was in a hurry when she came out and grabbed a random coat hanging by the chair on her way out to and from the kitchen, of course her socks would be mismatched. so when he greets her by the door after she slams the door open after hearing what, about fifteen doorbell rings, she’s bewildered when he takes on scan down her body and laughs. actually guffaws.
“You know, if you would’ve done as I said and ordered the violet dress, it would look a lot better with mine.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Miss Swan,” Regina accentuated with a snarl, “that I can’t submit to your every wish.”
“I told you we wouldn’t match unless you bought the exact same color of dress. Am I right? Or am I right?”
Regina huffed. “Miss Swan, I–”
“You ordered an eggplant-colored dress. Although you can definitely pull it off,” Emma said, eyeing the mayor, “it still doesn’t match mine.”
“No one will care if we aren’t matching.”
“Yes! Mismatching is like the worst possible–”
“Really, Miss Swan?” Regina raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Last time I checked, you weren’t exactly the best contender to make fashion police comments.”
My socks are mismatched. My thoughts are a mess. Everything is gone, and I am so incredibly lost. I hate these socks. I hate that you left. I hate that nothing in my life belongs. If I can’t find the pair to a sock, how am I supposed to find a one for me.
Everything seemed so mismatched. Even my allegedly matching socks didn’t appear to be identical. It was like the color was off, or the length, or the accents. I put on my shoes and they seemed so different in size. I pulled on a coat and, despite the fact that it was black on a black T-shirt, the slight deviation in shade drove me mad. I had half a mind to throw myself back into bed and give up, only to start debating whether or not the sheet set was out of whack, too.
We were like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit; we were a combination that reacted darkly. We were not meant be together; we were no good for one another. Yet, I could not bare to stay away from him.
The mismatched socks weren’t the most noticeable thing about her. Her hair was dyed into an eccentric neon green and her clothes… Don’t even get me started on her clothes.
Socks. That’s all i can think of when i see or hear ‘mismatched.’ Is anything else ever described as mismatched? Perhaps it’s too late in the night to think of mismatched things. It is past midnight after all, and i believe my brain melts at midnight. My socks manage to get mismatched, even if i try hard to only buy the same kind of socks every time.
The mismatched is a word used by young LAN players before. Games such as Counter-strike, Half-life or Team Fortress Classis. It was developed by Valve. Thos
The elevator doors began to close as Karl ran into the lobby of the Bisteen building where he worked. He sprinted but still the doors closed way before he reached them. Standing there, waiting for the next one, he hoped he was ready for the meeting. But in the reflection of the shiny, closed elevator doors he saw his mismatched socks and new that his career as a shoe model was over.
they stand side-by-side to compare. one’s tall, one’s short. one’s mean, one’s kind. one’s angry, one’s happy. pessimist, optimist. but, id says, we are opposites not mismatched. what would be mismatched then, id returns.
Socks are often mismatched my people my age. Its almost ridiculous how people become braggadocios about their socks being different colors. Get over it. You look sloppy. Also, why are mismatched bathing suits being advertised? Why is it cool to seem to not have your shit together. I love the look of matching — it’s classic.
The mismatched pair of clothes that I saw my best friend wear, was making me nauseous. The colors didn’t mix well together and she looked like a candy corn with fireworks firing out of the top of it.
My clothes never match. My parents say it’s because I have no fashion sense.
The truth is I just don’t care. That’s why I wear spots with stripes–who has time to think about that stuff anyway?
His face was scared and bloody but his eyes were filled with burning black rage. Skin only covered half of his face with the other burnt and raw. His name was Harvey Dent and his mismatched face had driven him mad. His name was two – face.
Death had plagued his life and misery seemed to dominate a large selection of his time.
They were like two pieces of the same puzzle that didn’t quite fit together.
She awoke that morning to open her newly empty sock drawer next to her bed. Only to find two socks, apart from each other. One red, one black and white, imperfectly striped. Yet, the day before, she had the biggest sock collection on the block. And now only two stupid mismatched socks? Bloody nonsense!
Looking around in frustration, she suddenly stopped. She knew, deep inside somewhere, in the pits of the dense groves of her distant childhood. This wasn’t just a middle school prank. This was the real world. This was an omen, a grave warning, a reminder of danger that was nonnegotiable. And it could only be from one person.
Suddenly, she heard a voice from the doorway.
“Hello. It looks as though we’ve met again” the aged purple teddy bear said through his furry lips, a voice so vile to make a child cry.
But no. She wasn’t a child anymore.
“Fluffles!” She screamed.
the war had begun.
—
TO BE CONTINUED
She didn’t know why there were only two socks in her drawer. And why one was red, and the other striped. Mismatched. But she had the biggest sock collection on the block! And now only two?? Bloody nonsense!
But she knew, somewhere deep inside, that it was an omen, a grave warning from Fluffles.
TO BE CONTINUED.
The socks were all wrong. None of them paired up, which was perplexing. Even the black ones all were slightly different from each other – a shade off, different ribbing, different lengths. She scratched her head and checked the basket again. Strange things seemed to be happening more often these days and she didn’t know whether to attribute it to her advancing age or to something more mysterious.
Huh? I did mismatched yesterday. Hmmm. My physical age is mismatched to my mental age. Or, I can’t stand mismatched socks…mostly.
These socks! Mismatched. I can buy 6 or 12 identical pairs, and donate all my old, unholey socks, and solve the problem semi-permanently, at least until I lose a sock, or they start to get holey. The problem will recur, however. Like fingernails.
socks, him and I? thing is we look great, there aren’t real problems, do I find a way to agree? he works his way back to me too, doesn’t push too hard, mismatched/attached
Socks. All over the place. Not a single one had a match, but Hermione didn’t care. She pinned them all over the place. And each night, a few disappeared. It was working. SPEW was actually working!!
This word makes me think of how others may view me and my husband. When we met some might say we where perfectly matched in personality and looks. Now as the years have gone by the truth is – he has aged very well, he is very handsome. I on the other hand look older than my years, unfashionable and frumpy. I’m sure others look and think we are ‘mismatched’ Its an uncomfortable thought to admit
I grabbed a pink sock, pulling it on one foot. There was another pink sock looking at me calmly from the drawer. But a purple sock winked at me. It promised to let me show my personality. I grabbed it and pulled it on.
god sometimes i feel so mismatched with people. like i cant fit in anywhere. i feel like im left out. when you want to match with someone so much but i never works out.
Well, it seemed crazy at the time, but the whole mismatched socks thing got him noticed all right. Hundreds of little tiny moths flocked to his legs like he was a lightbulb….not exactly what he wanted.
Christ. Usopp had no fashion sense. Mismatched pull over and baggy jeans. What was the guy thinking? He was almost as bad as luffy.
They were a mismatched. They liked opposite things and never agreed on anything. It’s like when you put a panda and a parrot together – doesn’t work! Mismatched!
she was in a hurry when she came out and grabbed a random coat hanging by the chair on her way out to and from the kitchen, of course her socks would be mismatched. so when he greets her by the door after she slams the door open after hearing what, about fifteen doorbell rings, she’s bewildered when he takes on scan down her body and laughs. actually guffaws.
“You know, if you would’ve done as I said and ordered the violet dress, it would look a lot better with mine.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Miss Swan,” Regina accentuated with a snarl, “that I can’t submit to your every wish.”
“I told you we wouldn’t match unless you bought the exact same color of dress. Am I right? Or am I right?”
Regina huffed. “Miss Swan, I–”
“You ordered an eggplant-colored dress. Although you can definitely pull it off,” Emma said, eyeing the mayor, “it still doesn’t match mine.”
“No one will care if we aren’t matching.”
“Yes! Mismatching is like the worst possible–”
“Really, Miss Swan?” Regina raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Last time I checked, you weren’t exactly the best contender to make fashion police comments.”
we were always mismatched
My socks are mismatched. My thoughts are a mess. Everything is gone, and I am so incredibly lost. I hate these socks. I hate that you left. I hate that nothing in my life belongs. If I can’t find the pair to a sock, how am I supposed to find a one for me.
Everything seemed so mismatched. Even my allegedly matching socks didn’t appear to be identical. It was like the color was off, or the length, or the accents. I put on my shoes and they seemed so different in size. I pulled on a coat and, despite the fact that it was black on a black T-shirt, the slight deviation in shade drove me mad. I had half a mind to throw myself back into bed and give up, only to start debating whether or not the sheet set was out of whack, too.
We were like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit; we were a combination that reacted darkly. We were not meant be together; we were no good for one another. Yet, I could not bare to stay away from him.
My thoughts, and dreams and aspirations
My brain flooded with emotions of all sorts
A paradox
The mismatched socks weren’t the most noticeable thing about her. Her hair was dyed into an eccentric neon green and her clothes… Don’t even get me started on her clothes.
Socks. That’s all i can think of when i see or hear ‘mismatched.’ Is anything else ever described as mismatched? Perhaps it’s too late in the night to think of mismatched things. It is past midnight after all, and i believe my brain melts at midnight. My socks manage to get mismatched, even if i try hard to only buy the same kind of socks every time.
The mismatched is a word used by young LAN players before. Games such as Counter-strike, Half-life or Team Fortress Classis. It was developed by Valve. Thos
The elevator doors began to close as Karl ran into the lobby of the Bisteen building where he worked. He sprinted but still the doors closed way before he reached them. Standing there, waiting for the next one, he hoped he was ready for the meeting. But in the reflection of the shiny, closed elevator doors he saw his mismatched socks and new that his career as a shoe model was over.
they stand side-by-side to compare. one’s tall, one’s short. one’s mean, one’s kind. one’s angry, one’s happy. pessimist, optimist. but, id says, we are opposites not mismatched. what would be mismatched then, id returns.
Socks are often mismatched my people my age. Its almost ridiculous how people become braggadocios about their socks being different colors. Get over it. You look sloppy. Also, why are mismatched bathing suits being advertised? Why is it cool to seem to not have your shit together. I love the look of matching — it’s classic.
Mismatched – I bought a mismatched shoe yesterday.
blue is definitely mismatched when it goes with burgundy. blue as to go with colours like green and red or so
This one is easy. I feel mismatched at work. It’s really bugging me b/c I want to feel useful and strategic. or…could be “socks”