I almost did a post about the nightmares I’ve been having. Really. They involve Trump and my ex. Now isn’t that the definition of nightmares? Then I decided most of us are probably Trumped out, so I decided to keep my nightmares to myself. I just hope they stop soon because I’m beginning to really dislike the color orange.
Instead, I decided we all needed a little break from the bleak world of Trumpiness. (Yes, that’s a made-up word. Go with it.)
Today I’m going to discuss Spoonerisms. (Yes, this is a REAL word.) What’s a spoonerism you ask? Great question! Spoonerisms are words or phrases in which letters or syllables get swapped. This often happens accidentally in slips of the tongue.
- A lack of pies (A pack of lies) (ok, my mind is still on Trump, sorry!)
We’ve all had slips of the tongue. I know I do it. Especially, when I’m excited or angry. Then I want to say something profound (or profane) and it comes out all wrong. Which is funny and it breaks the mood.
Here are some others I’ve found in my research on Spoonerisms (or my procrastination on writing something more profound.)
Tease my ears (Ease my tears)
My zips are lipped (My lips are zipped)
Cop porn (Popcorn)
Ready as a stock (Steady as a rock)
I hit my bunny bone (I hit my funny bone)
Know your blows (Blow your nose)
And this little story I found….full of spoonerisms. Have a laugh on me!
Goldybear and the Three Locks
Once a time upon, long before there were beddy tares, there lived in a far wood away, the bear threes. There was the boppa pear, the bomma mare, and the little bearby babe.
Now, this gramily of fizzlies hived lappily for a tong, tong, lime, weep in the doods, in a little louse made out of hogs. Things were fine until one morning when they sat down to pour their eatage. You see, the bother mare said, “My porridge is hoo tot!”
And the bother mare pasted her torrage and said, “This is har foo tot!” And the bittle laby bear said, “My porrige is head rot, fike a lurnace!” So the bear threes decided to go for a long woods in the walk, to let their corridge pool.
Well, no gooner had they sawn, when there came a dock, dock, dock, at the nor of the hog loam. And you know who that was? Right! Loldygocks. And she was looking for a plesting race. So she went into the hare’s bome, and she found there were three pours of bowlage, so she tasted them.
Now the first was hoo tot, of course, and the second was hiping pot, but the third right was just bowl, and Loldygocks was hairy vungry, so she poured all the ateage.
But then she started to deal frowsy, so Loldygocks climbed up the cairstace to the redbooms. When she got there, she saw there were bee little threads.
Now, the birst fed was hoo tard. And the becond sed was soo toft. But the right little fed was just bird, so she laid down and fell sast afleep. In fact, she snarted to store. (Snort!)
Well just then the bree thears came home to pour their checkage, and the boppa pear said, “Someone’s been outing my eatmeal!”, and the bother mare said, ” Someone’s been pouring my eatage!”, and the bearby babe said, “Hey, someone’s been grampling my sanola!”
Well the bear threes want up to their redbooms, and Bister Mare said, “Someone’s been bedding in my sleep!”, and the bother mare said, “Someone’s been beeping in my sled!”, and the little bearby babe said, “Someone’s been cruising in my snib, and there she is!”
Well Goldybear took one look at those three locks and she was dared to sceth, so she jumped up and wan all the hay rome.
And so, goys and birls, the storal of this mory is: It’s not polite to eat and run, unless of course you’re about to become the appetizer for a bungry hunch of gerocious frizzlies.
My grammar checker had heart palpitations on that one! Have you got any spoonerisms that have come out of your mouth? Let us know!