Randy Weeks

Published on July 7th, 2022 | by Randy Weeks


The View From The Balcony: “Notes in My Phone V”

The fifth installment of stuff I store in my phone

It’s a mood ring situation.

Horribly mediocre.

They were starting to stink.

I ovulate sand.

You’re welcome to my olives.

I don’t think that would be good on my greens.

Christmas music? Must be October.

Sleeping next to my failures.

So you were just sticking a pizza in your purse?

Rabbit ears: rabid ears.

Ragweed: drag weed.

Staff accountant: staph accountant.

Sin tax: syntax.

Entrepreneur: entremanure.

Thank y’all for beckoning. (John T. Edge)

He’s parked in dumb and stuck in stupid.

Gon’ git high in the sweet by an’ by.

I’ve got you on the edge of my seat.

Your mom skinned your pudding?

I’m ying-yangin’ it.

We’ve distracted each other way too long.

I walk the line between love and hate where I can see that there’s not much difference between the two.

I was really sad when that pawnshop turned into a Subway.

I’m re-toxing.

I want you to scoop my skittles…after you taste my rainbow.

He’s pretty dead now.

Hold on to your money, honey. I got me some lockpick earrings.

I was supposed to have my hairs done today.

I’m going to have a funeral bouquet on my ass.

A drunk mind is a terrible thing to waste.

Don’t stick your finger in. It’s fresh.

I did something horrible but I don’t know what.

Paganism is underrated.

If I could quit drinking for four hours I’d lose weight.

I’ve stiffened your hat before.

Is equilibrium really equal?

It was a messy blessing.

He had a heart-shaped callous.

It isn’t what it is until it is.

I’m the friendly neighborhood Jewish witch.

I’m all faulted up.

Not quite Minnie Pearl.

I don’t know what it is, but it feels good and it’s beautiful.

Speak your grief to the wind.

God really wanted Abraham to say, “No”.

I am an angel with a dirty face.

Mormons with chainsaws.

There’s a blanket of sadness draped around my heart.

It’s nice we live in an imaginary snow globe and none of it’s real. (Andrew George)

I had to get a muffuletta in me.

My house looks like a wedding threw up in it.

I’ll get an episiotomy.

If you’ve done it right they won’t look back. (Brooke Reeves on parenting)

He was a gentleman stalker.

I am Jew. Hear me kvetch. (Amadaes)

He flirts with brilliance.

Welome to the end of the world (Clay Jones)

Nuclear sushi.

You sold your soul to The Balcony. This is what you get. (Louis Bourgeois)

The North won the war but the South owns football.

I’m living naughty and it feels good.

She skates on the edge of being a hot mess.

Magnet schools are very attractive.

When I see red flags I think it’s a circus and I run to ‘em…then I find out they’re all clowns.

Verbal jujitsu.

There aren’t any chinks in my armor. They’re all gaping chasms.

How long have you not existed?

It’s not that I have something I want to hide. It’s that I have nothing I want you to see.

Bringing your girlfriend to Ole Miss is like bringing sand to the beach

Have you ever met a feral pack of angry women?

In the end, one encounters only oneself. (Louis Bourgeios)

My pencil doesn’t go that deep.

You’re always drunker than the chair.

Who the hell is Al Dente?

Your head would look better on a spike. (Louis Bourgeois)

You’ll have to shave your back to wear that dress.

God doesn’t punish sin. Sin punishes sin. (Sister Joan Chichester)

I’m fully capable of hating someone on my own terms.

His car sounds like a wet fart going down the road.

If I’m not gonna tone it I’m gonna tan it!

That’s the only time I’ve prayed for constipation.

On a clear day, how do you find a cloud? (Brum Elliott)

I’m living naughty and it feels good.

The only tattoos I got are scars.


Flow in the direction of love.

An obesity of grief.

I live in the loss.


The ass menagerie.

I have a degree in English. I speak it fluidly.

She was a dear in headlights.

It was a semenal moment.

Blaisé, blaisé, blaisé.

We were naïve. Now we’re jaded.

I just had a Lee Durkee moment.

Veni vidi vici. E-i-e-i-o.

Randy Weeks is a Licensed Professional Counselor, a Certified Shamanic Life Coach, an ordained minister, a singer-songwriter, and an actor. You’d be surprised what he keeps in his phone. Then, again, maybe you wouldn’t be. He may be reached at randallsweeks@gmail.com

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About the Author

Randy Weeks is a Licensed Professional Counselor, a Certified Shamanic Life Coach, an ordained minister, a singer-songwriter, and an actor, who lives in Oxford, Mississippi. He may be reached at randallsweeks@gmail.com.

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