• Scrine is the home of lost, forgotten, and lonely sentences.
• Play nice. Be kind. Post only single sentences.
• Scrine gives everyone plenty of rope to play with, but reminds everyone that even the longest rope is capable of hanging a person.
• Censorship is ugly, but still not the ugliest bird in the sky. Happily, this has never been necessary.
• The appropriateness of all sentences will remain the sole discretion of Scrine's tender.
• Anyone. Reading along costs nothing but time.
• Membership is required to post your own sentences. Joining is quick and painless.
• With membership comes the unique privilege of calling yourself a Scriner.
• Your information will never be sold, given away, shared, or even traded for an unimaginably delicious slice of pie.
• The above sentence may be the only sentence on this site that is 100% true.
Use this space for notes and reminders to yourself.
This is a private space. Only you will see your notes.
Expiration date is not required, only if you want the note to magically disappear.
A great place to keep your fantastic ideas, like, "Hey! I need to write more sentences about crickets and English gentlemen with unruly beards."
Just as soon as I finish this beer, I’m going to get out of my hammock, turn on the hose, and put out the fire that seems to have spread from the grill to the house.
I was too busy for lunch, but for dinner I had a 20 oz. Hefeweizen just minutes before take-off.
Scott decided that since it was Friday afternoon and sunny out, it was the perfect time to begin testing his hypothesis that a beer and a nap in the shade beats working.
Have you ever been 44 years old and working under a boiling hot sun, digging in the dirt, and almost passing out because you’re out of shape and out of focus and out of breath, basically, and then finished the job, still 44 years old but feeling much older, and then stumbled into your car and driven into the downtown of the nearest small town, and then stumbled even more into the first little tavern you came to with a long, wooden bar, air conditioning, cold beer, and wireless internet service, and for whatever reason, you happened to have your laptop strapped to your back, because, if you must know, you thought you were absolutely going to die because of that boiling hot sun and you weren’t sure you would make it to the shade of a barstool before you gave up the ghost, and if you didn’t make it, you wanted to make damn sure you died with all your typed words close by, even if they would just be grabbed up by some old drunk who just liked the look of your backpack - well, I just did.Update: Due to an official complaint filed against this sentence, it will be provided with an alternate ending until an official ruling is handed down from the Dash & Question Mark Subcommittee. Thank you for your patience in this matter. Have you ever been . . . . grabbed up by some old drunk?
“It’s all in vain,” Bob was heard muttering just before he asked the bartender for another beer.
As Bob sat at the bar alone and stared into his second beer, he was struck by an ephiphany, of sorts: He was a man who had no luck—no good luck and no bad luck—and that began to gnaw a him.
’Mouse has convinced Bakerina to be my proxy re: buying Boot a beer should Boot be in NYC.
As Bob signalled the bartender for another beer, his eye fell on the stats and he realized with a shock that he’d been here for almost 1000 beers—hell, he’d died and talked to God and yet he always found himself back in the same damn bar—would he still be here after another 1000—or 10,000—would he ever be free?
More beer, more beer, more beer, more beer, more beer, more beer, more beer, more beer, more beer, more beer, more beer, more beer, more beer, more beer.
Motivation to stay at the office working late is inversely proportional to the amount of Guinness that makes its way from the office mini-fridge into one’s mug.
i’ve just broken into my scrine mailbox in desperation and found 103 (or so) messages; and to think i had been feeling neglected- i’m down to 59 now, and…and i love all of you (you didn’t see that beer i just took a slug off of did you?).
Wine works a lot better than beer, but expensive drinks made by recent immigrants are the most effective of all.
If he’d been wearing a watch, a quick glance at his wrist would have told him that there was time for a pint before the plane began boarding, but since he was not, in fact, wearing a watch, and had not now for quite some months, it was pure instinct that guided him onto the pub stool.
While the man sipped his beer, the baggage handlers apparenty decided to test the water-retentive characteristics of his luggage by leaving it out in the pouring rain; the bags, he discovered upon reaching his destination, had failed miserably.
“I really shouldn’t be this happy,” Ron said to his best friend as they strolled contentedly through the park toward the bar where they liked to drink Guinness on Friday afternoons, “my wife is older, my whiskey comes in plastic bottles, I barely have beer money, and my horse… well, it’s a minivan and not fast at all.”
Chester wiped his hands across the front of his jeans and prepared to climb, his eyes focused on the beer-drinking window of opportunity.
“And I decide how cheap I’ll sell myself on the beer and cum stained floor.”
Beaucoup de bières!
You will be very thirsty in two hours time.
i loved you so much, cheered you on just so far; but then you lost your first real season game, and spilled beer in my car.
Every Saturday at 11:30 a.m. sharp, Ernie would pop the top on his first can of Schlitz and quietly mourn the death of what he referred to as “wrestlin’s glory days.”
I wanna snog… and drink beer… and scotch… and beer and scotch and beer and scotch and snog some more (maybe not all at once or exactly in that order) , after which it will be time to look at her shape, rub her flesh against my cheek, close my eyes and feel the smoothness of her glowing orb as I open her up—her juices flowing while I bury my face in her moistness and taste her buttery mango perfection on my tongue.
Steve Shemmeningster sold his smile for a pint of beer and was immediately renamed Lumphead Steve by the Upright Fivers, a small band of 3rd St. hobos who all claimed to have ascended, but as hobo luck would have it, only to sink back to earth a day or two later.
When all you can talk about is boots, beer and cake, it might be time to give up and just damn well go and drink beer.
Agreeing to give up beer for the duration of her pregnancy seemed like a much better idea in the middle of winter, when it was too cold to stand by a grill stacked with meat.
Just having seen three bands ranging from rock to variations of metal my ears are ringing, my clothes smell like the pub, my nostrils are saturated with the smell of sweat and beer yet I know I’m going to sleep well and have peaceful dreams.
“Beer?” motioned the pint-holding man, “Mmm-hmm” nodded the mango-munching woman.
Henrietta stormed into the pub, pushed Bob off his bar-stool, slapped Juan in the face, threw a pint of perfectly good beer at Henry’s trousers and shouted “Pay attention to me!”
Inspired by the fact that the U.S. Government subsidized a study on cow flatulence and global warming, Howard proposed a study linking rednecks, beer and honky-tonks to irreversible climatic change.
Beer might not heal all wounds, but it’s a pretty damn good bandaid.
Woohoooooo! and a beer.
When the chief was off, but on call, he made a point to limit the number of beers he drank, just in case there was an emergency that required delicate use of channel locks.
She knew she had her latest victim convert when, on uttering the word Guinness, the woman’s eyes sparkled in lusty anticipation.
Ah, the life of a pirate is made happy with the simplest pleasures; beer, the open sea, a sodding huge pile of gold coins.
Is it possible to judge a workplace on the quality of their free beer at Friday afternoon drinks?
This could be the beer, Zoloft, Effexor and Welbutrin talking, but I feel kind of strange.
Oh beer; I forgot about beer for some reason!
The cashier asked me if I was 21—old enough to buy the beer—so I told him he could cut me in half and both pieces would still be old enough to buy beer, except, I added, depending on how he sliced me and considering the wallet issue, one half probably wouldn’t have any money and couldn’t afford beer.
Glowstick bracelets and some sparklers combine to form the perfect Independence Day props for the 6 and under crowd.
Coffee O’Clock and Beer O’Clock.
Where’s a Guinness-swilling mate when you need one?
The scrine of last night was magnificent and beer-fueled; so it probably wasn’t.
I can hear the call of beer o’clock approaching and tags in quick posts may be something worth celebrating with a cold one.
Beer O’Clock had arrived and all of Rosie’s friends were busy being sensible, practical and unavailable.
I was looking in the office fridge for an afternoon snack; Guinness will do nicely.
We were drinking beers in this dive bar in Seward, Alaska and Imaginary Juan was listening mesmerized to Imaginary Keith’s amazing stories.
I hate being disappointed by beer, especially reasonably expensive beer that’s supposed to be good, because when it’s bad, it’s like every sip feels like you’re watching a puppy limp down a lonely road trying to keep up with the footsteps of some sad little kid holding a sparkler.
Sometimes I worry the Australians will drink all the Friday-night beer in the world and none will be left by the time I get a chance to get to the icebox.
Finding his mountain stream nearly dried up in the suffocating heatwave, Little Bear decided it was time to visit the suburbs where, with the judicious removal of a child-fence, he had a quiet week’s sole use of the vacationing family’s beautiful blue pool and several six-packs of beer he found in their convenient poolside outdoor refrigerator.
At the end of the day, the whole of the internet is just what a bunch of guys thought might be a good idea.
My beer can be delivered in many ways, but it’s been a long time since I’ve heard my favourite - the pony - ordered in anger.
Caution: Australians and Scrabble may lead to wild tales of fancy or dangerous re-tellings of the truth.
When Johnny Cash sings about it, Coors sounds a whole lot better than what we used to call "bear whiz beer."
The way beer tastes so much better after a day of dirty, sweaty, hard work almost makes the work worth the effort.
Copyright @ 2005 - 2017
243 queries in 1.6265 seconds