Chuckles the clown was that one kid who failed every class. He dropped out of clown school in his first year and lived a life on the road, impressing people with his juggling for food.
I chuckled as I saw this word. Didn’t I write on it last night at 10:36 pm, exactly 24 hours before? Shouldn’t a knew word be up today? Does this program use EST? And if so, why?
I hate clowns. Always have, always will. It’s not like they’ve ever done anything to me, and yeah, I consider myself a particularly understanding, open-minded individual. It’s not that I don’t believe in equality for all people, clowns and mimes included. It’s not that I discriminate against those with excessively large red noses, nor those with enormous feet and colorful hairdos. It’s not that I don’t appreciate magic tricks and laughter and practical jokes and balloon animals. It’s not anything I can put my finger on, really. I feel wrongfully judgemental when I tell people I hate clowns, or when I cringe upon seeing one in full garb, ready to run a party at a moment’s notice. I feel terrible every time I shiver at the thought of a clown–probably, in actuality, just a kind young grad student looking to make a few extra bucks here or there. I’m not proud of my discrimination, and I’m silently apologetic upon seeing a face-painted, red-nosed individual. I’m sorry that my first reaction is a negative one, and I’m sorry that I can’t look beyond the mask and makeup to see the person who lies underneath the layers of artificiality. I’m sorry that I never liked clowns, that I let all the creepy movies and horror stories get to me. I’m sorry that I can’t even like clowns now, that I can’t muster up a little bit of strength and find them cute or funny at a child’s birthday party. I’m sorry that even the knowledge that my best friend’s father worked as a clown to pay for rent during medical school can’t mend my broken perspective. I’m sorry that even Ronald McDonald, probably the sweetest clown known to man (and french fry), makes my insides knot up. I’m sorry that at five, my stomach did summersalts on my way to friend’s birthday celebrations, uncertain whether or not they’d hired a clown to entertain flocks of squirming pre-schoolers. I’m sorry that I begged my parents to stay with me at parties until it was determined that, no, there would not be a clown at this bash. I’m sorry that I still can’t forgive clowns for years of fear. I’m sorry that I’m scared, and weird, and irrational. I’m sorry.
She had lost it on the Metro ride from the Louvre to the brownstone cafe that only Arthur knew about.Or maybe she lost it before she even bought her ticket. Maybe it was still in her room, sitting on top of her unpacked boxes. A little fully white bunny sitting on top of all her brown unpacked boxes. Maybe. Either way she knew it wasn’t with her now, wasn’t in the blue plaid bag, wasn’t in her daughter’s outstretched hand.
“Where’s Chuckles?” Marie asked.
Where’s Chuckles? heard Arthur. Where’s Chuckles? heard Thomas. Where’s Chuckles? heard the little boy in blue pinstripe pants playing with his yoyo. But she didn’t hear Where’s Chuckles? She heard Where’s Mommy? She heard Where’s Mommy going? She heard Where’s Mommy going to live in Paris?
“Why isn’t Chuckles here?” they all heard.
Why isn’t Mommy going to live with us anymore? she heard. Why is Mommy leaving with that tall man? Why is Mommy leaving us to ride the Metro with that tall man who is the only one who knows of the little brownstown cafe?
hah that just reminds of butters from southpark. i love the way aracely chuckles, laughs whatever when we’re together, just kinda like a hahha, but soft like. god she’s awesome, i love her so much and wish i could hold her all the time. she’s the first person i’ve ever loved like this. she’s funny, smart, sexy, charming and soooo hipster. *sigh*
hah that just reminds of butters from southpark. i love the way aracely chuckles, laughs whatever when we’re together, just kinda like a hahha, but soft like. god she’s awesome, i love her so much and wish i could hold her all the time
I can’t stand him. Well I can. He’s my ex and that’s his nickname at the Ambulance Barn. He broke my heart a bit. Sure, I’ll get over it. But for now, it drives me crazy. To want someone who doesn’t want you back. It’s awful. Don’t try it.
– My friend Marissa nick named her brother Chuckles because of his obnoxious laugh.
– I constantly laugh at my friends brother Hunter because he chuckles like a hyena.
– My friend chuckles at me when I make funny faces.
– I don’t really understand the difference between chuckles or laughs.
– I think chuckles is a funny word, mainly because it reminds me right of my best friend Marissa who I miss very much
Chuckles the Clown—wasn’t that a character from a TV show? Dick Van Dyke I think. The TV shows of my childhood were so innocent. Rob and Laura, Lucy and Ricky, they all slept in separate beds. Extreme yes, but when did the pendulum swing to such raunch? Seems like we’ve been there forever.
The room filled with a sense of relief as chuckles soon filled the air, as men women and children glanced at each other they could see all the strain and tension leave the room.
She grinned feebly, holding back a chuckle that she wanted to escape her lips. But it would draw attention to her, and she learned from day one that even the slightest attention would get you caught. Stay low, pass under the radar, be someone you’re not as long as they don’t know who you are.
Charlie the pudding. With his bright red, curly hair, his pale, freckled-covered skin, his posh english accent and his slight pudge, Charlie is the pudding. He is our pudding. I never knew such a strange pudding, or such a strange Charlie.
I believe that the sound of chuckels brings joy. It sets a mood of happiness in any room. Laughter is one of the most important things in a friendship. If you never hear chuckles when your with your “friends”, I dont believe that its a true friendship. It shows that you aren’t comfortable or even enjoying being with that person.
Chuckles was a clown. He worked for Barnum and Bailey circus. Especially, he enjoyed riding the train from city to city. He wasn’t too fond of riding each night in the clown car. Being packed into the car like a sardine made his back hurt. He’s thinking of retiring and going to the clown retirement community.
Oh chuckles. Again. I keep refreshing the page to see if there will be a new word, but it must be the word of the day. I like chuckling, but I prefer to titter, guffaw, giggle.
Hello. My name is Chuckles. I don’t know why my mother gave me that name. I am after all the most serious person I have ever met. Maybe she did it for a laugh. My mom liked to laugh.
He chuckles as she slips over the banana. The crowd goes wild. Why did he choose that slapstick and not another one? Because he wants to become the new Charlie Chaplin.
If I had a goldfish I would name him chuckles. Or maybe it would be a girl. I dont think you can really tell with goldfish. I mean, i know i dont feel like getting all up the goldfish’s business in order to find out.
Chuckles the clown was that one kid who failed every class. He dropped out of clown school in his first year and lived a life on the road, impressing people with his juggling for food.
He didn’t laugh so much.
I chuckled as I saw this word. Didn’t I write on it last night at 10:36 pm, exactly 24 hours before? Shouldn’t a knew word be up today? Does this program use EST? And if so, why?
I hate clowns. Always have, always will. It’s not like they’ve ever done anything to me, and yeah, I consider myself a particularly understanding, open-minded individual. It’s not that I don’t believe in equality for all people, clowns and mimes included. It’s not that I discriminate against those with excessively large red noses, nor those with enormous feet and colorful hairdos. It’s not that I don’t appreciate magic tricks and laughter and practical jokes and balloon animals. It’s not anything I can put my finger on, really. I feel wrongfully judgemental when I tell people I hate clowns, or when I cringe upon seeing one in full garb, ready to run a party at a moment’s notice. I feel terrible every time I shiver at the thought of a clown–probably, in actuality, just a kind young grad student looking to make a few extra bucks here or there. I’m not proud of my discrimination, and I’m silently apologetic upon seeing a face-painted, red-nosed individual. I’m sorry that my first reaction is a negative one, and I’m sorry that I can’t look beyond the mask and makeup to see the person who lies underneath the layers of artificiality. I’m sorry that I never liked clowns, that I let all the creepy movies and horror stories get to me. I’m sorry that I can’t even like clowns now, that I can’t muster up a little bit of strength and find them cute or funny at a child’s birthday party. I’m sorry that even the knowledge that my best friend’s father worked as a clown to pay for rent during medical school can’t mend my broken perspective. I’m sorry that even Ronald McDonald, probably the sweetest clown known to man (and french fry), makes my insides knot up. I’m sorry that at five, my stomach did summersalts on my way to friend’s birthday celebrations, uncertain whether or not they’d hired a clown to entertain flocks of squirming pre-schoolers. I’m sorry that I begged my parents to stay with me at parties until it was determined that, no, there would not be a clown at this bash. I’m sorry that I still can’t forgive clowns for years of fear. I’m sorry that I’m scared, and weird, and irrational. I’m sorry.
She had lost it on the Metro ride from the Louvre to the brownstone cafe that only Arthur knew about.Or maybe she lost it before she even bought her ticket. Maybe it was still in her room, sitting on top of her unpacked boxes. A little fully white bunny sitting on top of all her brown unpacked boxes. Maybe. Either way she knew it wasn’t with her now, wasn’t in the blue plaid bag, wasn’t in her daughter’s outstretched hand.
“Where’s Chuckles?” Marie asked.
Where’s Chuckles? heard Arthur. Where’s Chuckles? heard Thomas. Where’s Chuckles? heard the little boy in blue pinstripe pants playing with his yoyo. But she didn’t hear Where’s Chuckles? She heard Where’s Mommy? She heard Where’s Mommy going? She heard Where’s Mommy going to live in Paris?
“Why isn’t Chuckles here?” they all heard.
Why isn’t Mommy going to live with us anymore? she heard. Why is Mommy leaving with that tall man? Why is Mommy leaving us to ride the Metro with that tall man who is the only one who knows of the little brownstown cafe?
well thats a chocolate at woolworths, sweet delectable goodness. And now I am giggling? GOL or something?
hah that just reminds of butters from southpark. i love the way aracely chuckles, laughs whatever when we’re together, just kinda like a hahha, but soft like. god she’s awesome, i love her so much and wish i could hold her all the time. she’s the first person i’ve ever loved like this. she’s funny, smart, sexy, charming and soooo hipster. *sigh*
hah that just reminds of butters from southpark. i love the way aracely chuckles, laughs whatever when we’re together, just kinda like a hahha, but soft like. god she’s awesome, i love her so much and wish i could hold her all the time
ben looked into his coffee and chuckled quietly. Of course joanna wouldn’t have cared if he didn’t come home that night. he was invisible to her.
I can’t stand him. Well I can. He’s my ex and that’s his nickname at the Ambulance Barn. He broke my heart a bit. Sure, I’ll get over it. But for now, it drives me crazy. To want someone who doesn’t want you back. It’s awful. Don’t try it.
laugh smile funny giggle happy chuck good times silly
– My friend Marissa nick named her brother Chuckles because of his obnoxious laugh.
– I constantly laugh at my friends brother Hunter because he chuckles like a hyena.
– My friend chuckles at me when I make funny faces.
– I don’t really understand the difference between chuckles or laughs.
– I think chuckles is a funny word, mainly because it reminds me right of my best friend Marissa who I miss very much
Chuckles the Clown—wasn’t that a character from a TV show? Dick Van Dyke I think. The TV shows of my childhood were so innocent. Rob and Laura, Lucy and Ricky, they all slept in separate beds. Extreme yes, but when did the pendulum swing to such raunch? Seems like we’ve been there forever.
Chuckles was a nickname of a friend of mine once… and I can’t remember now who it was… Or maybe it was “Mumbles.” Who knows?
The room filled with a sense of relief as chuckles soon filled the air, as men women and children glanced at each other they could see all the strain and tension leave the room.
my life is somewhat of a chuckles sometime but you need to laugh at yourself and not take yourself too seriously. Life is short
She grinned feebly, holding back a chuckle that she wanted to escape her lips. But it would draw attention to her, and she learned from day one that even the slightest attention would get you caught. Stay low, pass under the radar, be someone you’re not as long as they don’t know who you are.
i think when you chuckle you laugh and it is really funny b
Charlie the pudding. With his bright red, curly hair, his pale, freckled-covered skin, his posh english accent and his slight pudge, Charlie is the pudding. He is our pudding. I never knew such a strange pudding, or such a strange Charlie.
The boy chuckles when his friend falls off the chair.
I fucking love you
She chuckles
It’s not a joke
I start to bite my thumb nail
I really am inlove with you
I have nothing else to say.
Chuckles means someone is not quite laughing but it’s kinda of a small laugh.
example: Brianna chuckles when her teacher made a small joke.
I believe that the sound of chuckels brings joy. It sets a mood of happiness in any room. Laughter is one of the most important things in a friendship. If you never hear chuckles when your with your “friends”, I dont believe that its a true friendship. It shows that you aren’t comfortable or even enjoying being with that person.
chuckles the clown.
He was my worst fear as a child.
Now I wish all I had to fear was chuckles.
Chuckles was a clown. He worked for Barnum and Bailey circus. Especially, he enjoyed riding the train from city to city. He wasn’t too fond of riding each night in the clown car. Being packed into the car like a sardine made his back hurt. He’s thinking of retiring and going to the clown retirement community.
Oh chuckles. Again. I keep refreshing the page to see if there will be a new word, but it must be the word of the day. I like chuckling, but I prefer to titter, guffaw, giggle.
The amazing chocolate love bubbles they sell at woolies that make you believe hapiness can be bought. The smell alone is heaven.
Chuckles are little laughs. They make me chuckle a bit when I think about them. The word also reminds me of a clown.
Hello. My name is Chuckles. I don’t know why my mother gave me that name. I am after all the most serious person I have ever met. Maybe she did it for a laugh. My mom liked to laugh.
He chuckles as she slips over the banana. The crowd goes wild. Why did he choose that slapstick and not another one? Because he wants to become the new Charlie Chaplin.
What joy, what mirth… The kitchen full of merry chuckles. Happy guests make a happy host.
If I had a goldfish I would name him chuckles. Or maybe it would be a girl. I dont think you can really tell with goldfish. I mean, i know i dont feel like getting all up the goldfish’s business in order to find out.