2009: something that is completely and utterly awful on many levels. Just like our tragic year of late, 2009 sucks. Once the clock strikes midnight on December 31, 2009—2009 will forever signify infinite crappiness. From housing market crashes to banking crises and budget cuts and furlough days—this siege of shit never ends. It’s a like modern day spin of the biblical plagues of yore. God thought to himself in 2008, I must do something to get through to these earthly creatures. The populace of today won’t care about locusts, animals dying or water turning into blood, humans have science to fix all of that. Why don’t I do something that is really traumatic—take their money away and turn their economy upside-down!
Something that is 2009 is as high on the lame list as the rising rate of unemployment. As soon as you think that things couldn’t get any worse, it can. Case in point: you loose your job, your boyfriend dumps you, you find out your apartment (that you rented post-break-up) has cockroaches, you car breaks down and you have a death in the family. Now that is soo 2009.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
FKS
FKS: formerly known as sane. You have all had this happen to you, you meet someone who you think is super cool. You can't believe how well you guys are getting along. You start hanging out all the time. After a while you notice that there is something a bit off about her. First it manifests itself in an irrational outburst, she just snaps at you abruptly for nothing and she blames it on having a bad day. The next time, she doesn't like where you want to grab dinner and lucky for you she offered to pick you up and graciously leaves you out there on the side of the road. She calls later to apologize and come back to get you blaming it on her time of the month.
You start to wonder why she is free all the time, then you it hits you like her sudden outbursts of anger—she is a complete and utter headcase! So you try and back off from your new found friendship, but now she calls you all the time. You make up excuses and try to avoid her calls, but in true crazy person form they won't give up! The last time you hung out, she threw an eight-year-old hissy fit in the middle of a crosswalk and refused to get up, you almost wanted to throw her a bottle. Finally, you can't take it anymore and you have it out, and predictably, she handles it really well. If by well you mean that she only break three vases and luckily you ducked out of the way.
You start to wonder why she is free all the time, then you it hits you like her sudden outbursts of anger—she is a complete and utter headcase! So you try and back off from your new found friendship, but now she calls you all the time. You make up excuses and try to avoid her calls, but in true crazy person form they won't give up! The last time you hung out, she threw an eight-year-old hissy fit in the middle of a crosswalk and refused to get up, you almost wanted to throw her a bottle. Finally, you can't take it anymore and you have it out, and predictably, she handles it really well. If by well you mean that she only break three vases and luckily you ducked out of the way.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Knockliment
Knockliment: a compliment that comes from someone of questionable judgment. Case-and-point, you are rocking a new scarf that you pretty psyched about. Your friend (who is completely devoid of fashion sense) comes up to you and says, "Wow! I love you scarf." You know she is trying to be nice, but how could she like something that you (a self-proclaimed fashionista) is wearing? Which raises the question: is compliment from someone tacky, a real compliment? She obviously doesn't have good taste judging by the floral ensemble that they paired with corduroys (who wears those now anyways). After the encounter you think, if she likes it maybe this scarf isn't cute? Next time you wear it the scarf feels tainted, you can't help thinking about the knockliment.
Outside of fashion faux pas, a knockliment can apply to any like situation from work to your choice of significant other. It's all about taste people, who has it and who doesn't.
Outside of fashion faux pas, a knockliment can apply to any like situation from work to your choice of significant other. It's all about taste people, who has it and who doesn't.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Bag Watcher
Bag Watcher: someone who is basically useless. It’s the idea that they have nothing better to do with their time than watch your stuff (or that you think that they don’t have anything better to do and they don’t have enough gumption to tell you no). You have all done it: you have ran off to do something and said to a friend or colleague, “oh, can you watch my bag?” And before they can respond you are off having fun or doing something perceivably more important.
At a recent work event, my co-workers and I were all busy running around doing tasks, greeting people, setting things up—basically being functional human beings. One of my office mates seriously was standing around with a dumb-founded look on their face, doing absolutely nothing while we were being industries worker bees. Somehow it got decided that this person would stay at the registration desk (after everyone was checked in) with the sole purpose of watching peoples’ bags while everyone else participated in the event. My co-worker’s only purpose at our exclusive event was to watch bags, because our purses might run away from their secure hiding place—that is a bullshit job if I have ever heard of one. This menial task just highlights her tremendous utility to the company and the best part is, she gladly accepted the job and did not offer to help out in another capacity. She took pride in her task and fretted about when the bags where left alone.
To all the bag watchers out there (you probably don’t know who you are), I salute you in your ignorance, may your time spent watching bags be blissful.
At a recent work event, my co-workers and I were all busy running around doing tasks, greeting people, setting things up—basically being functional human beings. One of my office mates seriously was standing around with a dumb-founded look on their face, doing absolutely nothing while we were being industries worker bees. Somehow it got decided that this person would stay at the registration desk (after everyone was checked in) with the sole purpose of watching peoples’ bags while everyone else participated in the event. My co-worker’s only purpose at our exclusive event was to watch bags, because our purses might run away from their secure hiding place—that is a bullshit job if I have ever heard of one. This menial task just highlights her tremendous utility to the company and the best part is, she gladly accepted the job and did not offer to help out in another capacity. She took pride in her task and fretted about when the bags where left alone.
To all the bag watchers out there (you probably don’t know who you are), I salute you in your ignorance, may your time spent watching bags be blissful.
Friday, November 13, 2009
ATO
ATO: all talked out. This is the moment while you are engaged in conversation that it just hits you, you no longer wish to be talking to that person any more. It's not necessarily them (although it could be depending on the fellow conversationalist), but you have reached your human contact limit for the day and they just keep babbling. You are entirely saturated with the utterances of the English language—your verbal pot is full and you are reaching your boiling point. All you really want to say is "stop talking, I just can't listen anymore." You find yourself getting antsy and you have ceased listening to them altogether. Then, you just blurt out, "Great catching up with you. Talk to you soon." These words come out of your mouth subconsciously, interrupting them in the middle of their tale of woe, promptly ending the conversation before they could wipe the tears from their eyes.
ATO is worse over the phone then in person. Do your caller a favor when you are nearing ATO status, just don't answer. You will have a better conversation with them at a later time and, hey, they may actually enjoy talking to you when you don't prematurely end your gab sessions.
ATO is worse over the phone then in person. Do your caller a favor when you are nearing ATO status, just don't answer. You will have a better conversation with them at a later time and, hey, they may actually enjoy talking to you when you don't prematurely end your gab sessions.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Déjà cringe
Déjà cringe: the cringe you have when thinking about something stupid you have done. You most likely winced after it happen, but you just can't let it go. You will be going along your day and then you think about that bonehead thing you did last week and you cringe all over again. How could I be soo stupid!
Like any self-respecting writer, I have a healthy balance of narcissism and self-deprecation. I believe that my written word is exciting enough that other people will find it captivating and then I worry about what people will think of it. This carries through to my actions, though thankfully not all. I over-analyze my deeds and once I have deemed a particular move deficient, I over inflate the importance of it. The witness(es) of my alleged transgression will probably not remember it or think it was as humiliating as I do.
For my propensity to déjà cringe, I blame my sisters. My two sharp hermanas have never forget a stupid thing I have ever done. They even remember idiotic instances that I have managed to force from my memory. The most notorious of which was during high school and I had a ridiculous crush on a cashier at Safeway (yes, straight up Junior High style, I was a late bloomer). I would wait for his line to be free (even if it was longer) just so I could talk to him. (I have since seen him and let's just say, what was I thinking.) One day we were chatting and I was being my regular nervous (and hopelessly uncharming) self. My groceries were just about all rung up, signifying the end of our conversation, and I said "OK see when I buy my turkey at Thanksgiving." I am probably not capturing the essence of that awkward moment, but it was priceless. My sister and our friend burst into a laughing fit on the spot in the grocery aisle, they couldn't even make it outside the automatic glass doors. I déjà cringed for months after that.
Like any self-respecting writer, I have a healthy balance of narcissism and self-deprecation. I believe that my written word is exciting enough that other people will find it captivating and then I worry about what people will think of it. This carries through to my actions, though thankfully not all. I over-analyze my deeds and once I have deemed a particular move deficient, I over inflate the importance of it. The witness(es) of my alleged transgression will probably not remember it or think it was as humiliating as I do.
For my propensity to déjà cringe, I blame my sisters. My two sharp hermanas have never forget a stupid thing I have ever done. They even remember idiotic instances that I have managed to force from my memory. The most notorious of which was during high school and I had a ridiculous crush on a cashier at Safeway (yes, straight up Junior High style, I was a late bloomer). I would wait for his line to be free (even if it was longer) just so I could talk to him. (I have since seen him and let's just say, what was I thinking.) One day we were chatting and I was being my regular nervous (and hopelessly uncharming) self. My groceries were just about all rung up, signifying the end of our conversation, and I said "OK see when I buy my turkey at Thanksgiving." I am probably not capturing the essence of that awkward moment, but it was priceless. My sister and our friend burst into a laughing fit on the spot in the grocery aisle, they couldn't even make it outside the automatic glass doors. I déjà cringed for months after that.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Meenet
Meenet: it is when you think you look good and then take a closer look in the mirror later on and realize that you look toe-up. It's your own personal Monet, beautiful from afar and far from beautiful. Everyone has those days when you leave the house and you are like "I look good today, sweet." Then, at work you take a bathroom break and a second look in the mirror.
While you are checking yourself out, and procrastinating going back to your desk, you realize that your former assessment of your physical appearance was false. (Gasp!) You skin only looked clearer earlier because you caked on the concealer, which now makes you look like you have discolored blotches of flaky skin. (Damn that faulty lighting in your room.) The bold fashion statement you decided on in your haste to leave your cramped abode, now just looks tacky. And that form-fitting shirt that you thought brought out your curves, only looks good when you are standing perfectly still (and sucking in). All that taught top is accentuating is your love handles, and you better hang on tight because those things are in full force. The casually messy tresses you are rocking, looks like you have been head banging all night at an 80s rock show, and yes, it is passé.
At this stage of your realization you panic, you are already at work and you cannot change your outfit. What is a girl to do? So you do whatever primping you can in the bathroom, tweak your hair, throw on a little gloss and remove the colorful scarf you have on to "tone down" your outfit. You try to salvage what you have left of your shabby ensemble and you walk out of the bathroom, head held high with a tinge of insecurity. You swear to yourself, you won't let this happen again.
While you are checking yourself out, and procrastinating going back to your desk, you realize that your former assessment of your physical appearance was false. (Gasp!) You skin only looked clearer earlier because you caked on the concealer, which now makes you look like you have discolored blotches of flaky skin. (Damn that faulty lighting in your room.) The bold fashion statement you decided on in your haste to leave your cramped abode, now just looks tacky. And that form-fitting shirt that you thought brought out your curves, only looks good when you are standing perfectly still (and sucking in). All that taught top is accentuating is your love handles, and you better hang on tight because those things are in full force. The casually messy tresses you are rocking, looks like you have been head banging all night at an 80s rock show, and yes, it is passé.
At this stage of your realization you panic, you are already at work and you cannot change your outfit. What is a girl to do? So you do whatever primping you can in the bathroom, tweak your hair, throw on a little gloss and remove the colorful scarf you have on to "tone down" your outfit. You try to salvage what you have left of your shabby ensemble and you walk out of the bathroom, head held high with a tinge of insecurity. You swear to yourself, you won't let this happen again.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Nega-Booty
Nega-Booty: a butt that just butt curves inward, it just forgot to grow. It's like their backside falls off into nothingness, like a cliff. This is the polar opposite of a ghetto booty, a bum that just went concave.
Code Red
Code Red: the unexpected appearance of a hot individual. You turn around and all of a sudden bam, there is a beautiful specimen that flashes before your eyes. The Code Red instantly switches on in your mind and you attempt to take your awe-struck eyes from the Adonis in front of you. If you are lucky, and few of us are, an awkward encounter will take place. But, for most of us (aka the too chicken to do anything about it), this fleeting glance is all that we get of our Code Red and his appereance passes away like the flash of light he came in on.
This word came about the other day while my friend and I were vainly trying to park the car on Shattuck in Berkeley. After finding a spot on this random residential street, we were walking to the restaurant when all of sudden we realized we saw a flashing red light. We looked around and realized that we were at a fire station and there was a truck full of strapping firemen pulling into the driveway. Grinning at this unexpected turn of events, we were giggled like teen age girls and Code Red was born.
This word came about the other day while my friend and I were vainly trying to park the car on Shattuck in Berkeley. After finding a spot on this random residential street, we were walking to the restaurant when all of sudden we realized we saw a flashing red light. We looked around and realized that we were at a fire station and there was a truck full of strapping firemen pulling into the driveway. Grinning at this unexpected turn of events, we were giggled like teen age girls and Code Red was born.
Friday, October 2, 2009
AfterLaugh
AfterLaugh: the giggles you get went you think about something funny after it has happened. You might be driving in your car, just thinking to yourself and then all of a sudden you have a case of AfterLaugh and you burst into laughter.
This word came about when my sister was telling me a very, very funny story involving the misuse of the phrase scary hoe. I was laughing so hard I had an asthma attack, revenge of the nerds style (yes, I have an inhaler). Hours later in my car, I thought of the story and started cracking up all over again (minus the dorky respiratory failure), shortly thereafter "AfterLaugh" was coined.
I will give you a brief recap of it here because it is just that funny: my friends and I always use the word situation to describe the events or circumstances surronding something. My friend Nick decided that he would start using scenario instead of situation and later (inspired by Jay Z's song "Big Pimpin'") he swapped out scenario for scary hoe. So instead of saying the weekend scenario, he would say the weekend scary hoe.
One day he wrote his mom a shopping list of items to get for a particular recipe from the grocery store. He wrote down fried onions scary hoe, bread scary hoe and etc. His poor foreign mother goes to the grocery store scouring the aisles for fried onions made by "Scary Hoe" brand. Expasperated, she calls upon the help of a store clerk to find the unorthodox brand. I can just imagine her now asking the unassuming clerk (insert Egyptian accent here) can you help me, I cannot find the scary hoe onions. The pair of them were looking for an hour for the scary hoe brand in the store!!! She had no idea that this was not a brand and came home and scolded her son saying do you know what a scary hoe is, ufff!! (this is the frustrated Arabic sigh).
This word came about when my sister was telling me a very, very funny story involving the misuse of the phrase scary hoe. I was laughing so hard I had an asthma attack, revenge of the nerds style (yes, I have an inhaler). Hours later in my car, I thought of the story and started cracking up all over again (minus the dorky respiratory failure), shortly thereafter "AfterLaugh" was coined.
I will give you a brief recap of it here because it is just that funny: my friends and I always use the word situation to describe the events or circumstances surronding something. My friend Nick decided that he would start using scenario instead of situation and later (inspired by Jay Z's song "Big Pimpin'") he swapped out scenario for scary hoe. So instead of saying the weekend scenario, he would say the weekend scary hoe.
One day he wrote his mom a shopping list of items to get for a particular recipe from the grocery store. He wrote down fried onions scary hoe, bread scary hoe and etc. His poor foreign mother goes to the grocery store scouring the aisles for fried onions made by "Scary Hoe" brand. Expasperated, she calls upon the help of a store clerk to find the unorthodox brand. I can just imagine her now asking the unassuming clerk (insert Egyptian accent here) can you help me, I cannot find the scary hoe onions. The pair of them were looking for an hour for the scary hoe brand in the store!!! She had no idea that this was not a brand and came home and scolded her son saying do you know what a scary hoe is, ufff!! (this is the frustrated Arabic sigh).
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Doser
Doser: is someone you can take in only small doses. You still want to hang out with them, but they have an expiration time like a pint of milk. After kickin' it with a doser, you are mysteriously drained, like it took all of your efforts to put up with them. They are your cooky and crazy friends and they provide you with some amusement. A doser is the person you call when you are really, really bored and none of your normal friends are free.
Not only do you have to cut your doser sessions short you have to space them out. After a doser sesh, you need a detox period so that you can purge yourself of toxins and build up stregnth to handle the next time.
Not only do you have to cut your doser sessions short you have to space them out. After a doser sesh, you need a detox period so that you can purge yourself of toxins and build up stregnth to handle the next time.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Nom de Zoom
Nom de Zoom: likened to nom de plume, this is your bar name. While you are not creating a literary work of art, you are creating a complex character of fictional proportions. Prior to an evening outing, your friends give you a believeble yet slightly more exotic name. I was dubbed Mercedes and given that everyone thinks I am Mexican, the name is believable (or so they tell me). When you encouter someone who you do not wish to talk to you or you are just not feeling it, you give them your nom de zoom. Then when your conversation is over you can split, leaving the interlocateur unaware of your real name and identity.
The persona you take on to embody your nom de zoom is completely different than your actual personality. For instance you could be a flight attendant, a bartender or a professor at the University of Pheonix online. To keep up appearences, you friends must refer to by your nom do zoom and play into your alter-ego. It is helpful to have a list of hobbies and a fake place of residence to keep the conversation going until your zooming point.
The persona you take on to embody your nom de zoom is completely different than your actual personality. For instance you could be a flight attendant, a bartender or a professor at the University of Pheonix online. To keep up appearences, you friends must refer to by your nom do zoom and play into your alter-ego. It is helpful to have a list of hobbies and a fake place of residence to keep the conversation going until your zooming point.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Digi-dust
Digi-dust: invisible dust that covers technology and the internet. Though you can't see it, digi-dust settles on something that has been replaced, improved upon, discarded or neglected. Just like the old and tired things collecting dust on your shelf at home (be it an old stuffed animal or earrings from last season), these digital entities are quickly covered in a film signaling that someone has moved on rendering them irrelevant. It refers to something that is passé like Friendster and MySpace, communicating with your friends exclusively via AIM and saving files on CDs.
Google often digs up digi-dust covered websites, blogs and articles via its search engine and it just fills your screen with dusty, old information. I wish that Google would develop a digi-dust filter with an added tab marked "Clicked here to rate this like as Tired" but maybe the search giant can't keep up with the rate of fallout.
Google often digs up digi-dust covered websites, blogs and articles via its search engine and it just fills your screen with dusty, old information. I wish that Google would develop a digi-dust filter with an added tab marked "Clicked here to rate this like as Tired" but maybe the search giant can't keep up with the rate of fallout.
Monday, September 14, 2009
PhOCD
PhOCD: obsessive compulsive checking of the cell phone. This is a disorder that particularly affects those people with iPhones, BlackBerrys, PDAs and Smart Phones. These super cell phones are basically an extension of their hand, a portal to the world—updating them on the status of everything. Without their phone, users can feel naked, disconnected and disoreinted.
Do you really need to know what everyone of your 600-plus Facebook friends are doing at 3 p.m.? Chances are if they are posting in the middle of the work day, it is probably to tell you what kind of latte they had on their coffee break (see Captain Status post), that's one caffeinated story that will make you yawn.
The constant need to stay in contact with whomever or whatever is "contacting" them is like an addiction. Everytime the little red light flashes on the top right corner of the cell phone it beams out check me, read me, respond to me. The warm glow of the electronic light signals that someone want to talk to you, connect with you. Maybe it's no coincidence that the cell phone manufactors selected red for the signal light, a color of urgency and love, something that your phone communicates to you. It's no wonder that these days people are soo "connected" with the world, but yet they feel so alone. If human relationships were all about being informed of what their freinds and families were doing, people would have just sent each other tearsheets from the day planner with notes like here is what I have been up to, say hi to the kids.
I have to admit I too have fallen victim to my BlackBerry's seductive ploys, constanting vibrating, rining and flashing, trying to get me to stay connected with the world at all hours of the day. Is this really making my life better? I doubt it, instead I am on my lunch break and I get a ridiculous email from my boss, which I don't want to read when I am out of the office. But, once again, I fall victim to the enticing red light, which gleams with the promise of offering me something new, exciting and different. It takes me all of one second to cave and I check it. I respond with the rapid whir of frantic thumbs to craft an appropriate response. However instead of really getting work done, I am really getting an advanced case of carpal tunnel thumb from the overuse of my opposable fingers.
Do you really need to know what everyone of your 600-plus Facebook friends are doing at 3 p.m.? Chances are if they are posting in the middle of the work day, it is probably to tell you what kind of latte they had on their coffee break (see Captain Status post), that's one caffeinated story that will make you yawn.
The constant need to stay in contact with whomever or whatever is "contacting" them is like an addiction. Everytime the little red light flashes on the top right corner of the cell phone it beams out check me, read me, respond to me. The warm glow of the electronic light signals that someone want to talk to you, connect with you. Maybe it's no coincidence that the cell phone manufactors selected red for the signal light, a color of urgency and love, something that your phone communicates to you. It's no wonder that these days people are soo "connected" with the world, but yet they feel so alone. If human relationships were all about being informed of what their freinds and families were doing, people would have just sent each other tearsheets from the day planner with notes like here is what I have been up to, say hi to the kids.
I have to admit I too have fallen victim to my BlackBerry's seductive ploys, constanting vibrating, rining and flashing, trying to get me to stay connected with the world at all hours of the day. Is this really making my life better? I doubt it, instead I am on my lunch break and I get a ridiculous email from my boss, which I don't want to read when I am out of the office. But, once again, I fall victim to the enticing red light, which gleams with the promise of offering me something new, exciting and different. It takes me all of one second to cave and I check it. I respond with the rapid whir of frantic thumbs to craft an appropriate response. However instead of really getting work done, I am really getting an advanced case of carpal tunnel thumb from the overuse of my opposable fingers.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Master-piece
Master-piece:is someone who is pleasing to the eye, but offensive to the ears. Like a work of art, you can appreciate the sheer beauty of the piece, the attention to detail when outfitting themselves and their overall appeal. However, when these striking creatures open their mouth it makes your head hurt—a beast-like speech flows from their mouth in the form of vapid, loud or ignorant commentary. You wish you could go back to that blissful moment before they spoke—when you appreciated their divine aesthetic without realizing how stupid they were.
Similar to a but-her-face, a master-piece is a but-her-brain and they can be either men or women. Their designation is much like that of a creative work, beauty is in the eye of the beholder—and only you can decide if someone goes from goes from a hot "piece" of ass to a master-piece. A perfect example of a master-piece is Brian’s girlfriend Jillian on Family Guy. Sure she is a super hot (in cartoon land), but she has less brain power than the illustrated silicon accentuating her curvy silhouette. But Brian being the appreciator of the Beaux Arts that he is, he just keeps going back for more a little more cultural education every time.
Similar to a but-her-face, a master-piece is a but-her-brain and they can be either men or women. Their designation is much like that of a creative work, beauty is in the eye of the beholder—and only you can decide if someone goes from goes from a hot "piece" of ass to a master-piece. A perfect example of a master-piece is Brian’s girlfriend Jillian on Family Guy. Sure she is a super hot (in cartoon land), but she has less brain power than the illustrated silicon accentuating her curvy silhouette. But Brian being the appreciator of the Beaux Arts that he is, he just keeps going back for more a little more cultural education every time.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
InBoxer
InBoxer: Someone who puts on a normal front to your face and then sends you a snarky email to tell you how they really feel. They don’t have the cojones to tell you something in person so they rely on technology to communicate their message. You may pass them in the halls and they will smile at you or hang out with them at an event and everything will be fine. You guys will laugh and joke around, they might even compliment you on your outfit.
Not even a minute goes by and your inbox pings with the sound of a new message as if to say you’ve got mail, but you don’t want read it. Its just a passive email from that fake person you have just been talking to. They can't seem to face you in person with honor. Instead they hide their real feelings behind feigned displays of affection and overly enthusiastic displays of emotion. When faced with such an irritating person I think to myself, I know you don't like me. Yet you put so much energy into leading this duel personality.
The gloves are off when it comes to text-based communication. They don't have to be present for your reaction to their message, they can text, type, e-mail, update or tweet until their heart's content. They will blindside you with an electronically delivered knock-out punch, leaving you stunned lying on the floor. In the real world (where genuine human interactions exist) you could "take this outside" to work things out when verbal altercations or disagreements happen. Well inboxer you need to get out of the ring. Stop hiding behind technologies excuses for cowardice and express your opinion with honor. There is no winner at the end of this verbal fighting match—the result is just a confusing chain of communication that leaves both parties panting from a repeated swing and a miss.
My friend Macie helped me solidify this current incarnation of this word, which went from Inbox Avenger to the InBoxer.
Not even a minute goes by and your inbox pings with the sound of a new message as if to say you’ve got mail, but you don’t want read it. Its just a passive email from that fake person you have just been talking to. They can't seem to face you in person with honor. Instead they hide their real feelings behind feigned displays of affection and overly enthusiastic displays of emotion. When faced with such an irritating person I think to myself, I know you don't like me. Yet you put so much energy into leading this duel personality.
The gloves are off when it comes to text-based communication. They don't have to be present for your reaction to their message, they can text, type, e-mail, update or tweet until their heart's content. They will blindside you with an electronically delivered knock-out punch, leaving you stunned lying on the floor. In the real world (where genuine human interactions exist) you could "take this outside" to work things out when verbal altercations or disagreements happen. Well inboxer you need to get out of the ring. Stop hiding behind technologies excuses for cowardice and express your opinion with honor. There is no winner at the end of this verbal fighting match—the result is just a confusing chain of communication that leaves both parties panting from a repeated swing and a miss.
My friend Macie helped me solidify this current incarnation of this word, which went from Inbox Avenger to the InBoxer.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Palcohol
Palcohol: past alcohol consumption. It is not the feeling you get after an all night bender or the expanded abdomen after a day of pounding beers. It is the long term effects of drinking. Not to be confused with a hangover, palcohol is the reason you get winded after walking up a flight of stairs, even though you put in time at the gym. Palcohol is the mysterious "cushion" you find lining your six-pack abs after a summer of fun.
Palcohol is the reason you can't remember anything that happened last week, last night or last year. Palcohol (aka your favorite wine) is the reason you will never be a size four, the reason why you are in a constant state of dehydration and the reason why you have bruises on random places of your body. Palcohol is why you can't seem to keep your balance and why you always stumble into static objects that just appeared out of no where. It is why your head always feels heavy at work from lack of sleep, though you pass out cold every night. It is the reason your brain hurts when you attempt simple math or anything else that requires more than a fifth grade education.
Palcohol is the reason you can't remember anything that happened last week, last night or last year. Palcohol (aka your favorite wine) is the reason you will never be a size four, the reason why you are in a constant state of dehydration and the reason why you have bruises on random places of your body. Palcohol is why you can't seem to keep your balance and why you always stumble into static objects that just appeared out of no where. It is why your head always feels heavy at work from lack of sleep, though you pass out cold every night. It is the reason your brain hurts when you attempt simple math or anything else that requires more than a fifth grade education.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Man Howl
Man Howl: is the unofficial call of the male species that draws them into a pack. Like Jack London's Call of the Wild, a man howl is a signal makes men instinctively come together. One "howl" is placed into the environment and every man in an audible radius has the same reaction. Women don't respond to the howl, we just look on perplexed as a group of men magically form a pack. The TV is one with a football game humming in the background and by the next touchdown play every man in the building is glued to the set, high-fiving after an awesome play. The man howl can apply to many situations of unsolicited male togetherness and often occurs among men who are complete strangers.
When thinking about the Man Howl, one recent event comes to mind. My friends and I were hanging out at a local dive bar when we discovered that the pool table was broken. As soon as the words this pool table is broken were uttered the men just started showing up. Gentlemen of all shapes and sizes were walking around the table and scoping it out from every angle, analyzing how they would fix it. All of sudden a few of them just lifted the table of the ground and got the pool balls out again. It was their calling to form a pack and fix this table. No other events transpired until the pool table was restored to its full operation.
When thinking about the Man Howl, one recent event comes to mind. My friends and I were hanging out at a local dive bar when we discovered that the pool table was broken. As soon as the words this pool table is broken were uttered the men just started showing up. Gentlemen of all shapes and sizes were walking around the table and scoping it out from every angle, analyzing how they would fix it. All of sudden a few of them just lifted the table of the ground and got the pool balls out again. It was their calling to form a pack and fix this table. No other events transpired until the pool table was restored to its full operation.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Bud-E
Bud-E: is that person who always comments on your status, but is not really your friend. They are only really connected to you via an invisible internet sphere linking every connection you have ever made in your life to each other—keeping you privy to the lives of people you would never have remembered existed otherwise. They always "like" your status (denoted by a thumbs-up symbol on facebook) and post "cute pic" on your photos. You may not be quite sure who they are: an old friend from grade school, someone you met in a lecture once or someone you met in a bar once.
In any case, you never hang out, but for whatever reason they feel compelled to share their opinion of your actions with the world. I don't really get these Bud-Es. I have a few of them and I wonder do you just have no life, or are you on a mission to boost the self-confidence of random people that you went to high school with but never talked you? Is this some kind of Internet pay-it-forward, I comment on your status so that you feel liked, and then you do the same to some other marginal friend in your network and in the end the whole world feels loved?
Well Bud-E if so I am confused. I feel like I should respond to your posts, but since we don't really know each other, I don't. So what is the purpose of this all? I am just going to go with the option that I am just that interesting that you wish you were part of my highly selective inner circle of which you can only reach the outskirts via my 600-strong Facebook network.
In any case, you never hang out, but for whatever reason they feel compelled to share their opinion of your actions with the world. I don't really get these Bud-Es. I have a few of them and I wonder do you just have no life, or are you on a mission to boost the self-confidence of random people that you went to high school with but never talked you? Is this some kind of Internet pay-it-forward, I comment on your status so that you feel liked, and then you do the same to some other marginal friend in your network and in the end the whole world feels loved?
Well Bud-E if so I am confused. I feel like I should respond to your posts, but since we don't really know each other, I don't. So what is the purpose of this all? I am just going to go with the option that I am just that interesting that you wish you were part of my highly selective inner circle of which you can only reach the outskirts via my 600-strong Facebook network.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Captain Status
Captain Status: someone who constantly updates their status via the many social media networks. Captain Status we salute you! It is you who thinks that we (the people) care about your every breath, thought, occurrence and, even, ingestion. You are your own sports announcer—giving us the play-by-play of your oh-so fascinating life. I can hear it now over the loud speaker announced with the zeal of an imminent grand slam accompanied by the roar from the stadium, he gets out of bed, he drinks the best coffee ever, he looks hungry, he’s going for the sesame bagel. Oh no, wait, the crowd is in suspense—he selects the apple fritter and he could go all the way! He hops in his car, drives around the block, avoids the cop and arrives to work on time—a home run!
With the BlackBerry, iPhone and the progeny of Smart Phones out there updating your status has become even easier leading to the false assumption that C.S.'s status needs to be updated—ah, no one in the Whole World Wide Web knows what I ate for lunch! Sure I want to hear about your day, but leave something for the imagination. Like the why-buy-the-cow saying goes, why should I hang out with you when I can find out know all I need to know about you via your hourly tweets? Have you heard of over communication or how about interpersonal communication? (You know that thing where you meet people in person and you exchange words communicated through the movement of lips as opposed to the “conversation” generated through a frenetic movement of fingertips.)
For you Captain Status I have a tribute to you reminiscent of my 1980s’ youth.
Facebook
Twitter
GChat
LinkedIn
Smart Phones
Update Status!
Social networks and technology combine to make Captain Status
Captain Status, what a zero
You post when you eat a gyro
He is social media glorified
And he is adding friends to boost his pride
Captain Status, what a zero
You post when you eat a gyro
Going to tweet 100 times today
Because virtual communication is the only way
We are Captain Status
And you can be one too!
Cuz perpetually updating is the thing to do.
The Status is Yours!
With the BlackBerry, iPhone and the progeny of Smart Phones out there updating your status has become even easier leading to the false assumption that C.S.'s status needs to be updated—ah, no one in the Whole World Wide Web knows what I ate for lunch! Sure I want to hear about your day, but leave something for the imagination. Like the why-buy-the-cow saying goes, why should I hang out with you when I can find out know all I need to know about you via your hourly tweets? Have you heard of over communication or how about interpersonal communication? (You know that thing where you meet people in person and you exchange words communicated through the movement of lips as opposed to the “conversation” generated through a frenetic movement of fingertips.)
For you Captain Status I have a tribute to you reminiscent of my 1980s’ youth.
GChat
Smart Phones
Update Status!
Social networks and technology combine to make Captain Status
Captain Status, what a zero
You post when you eat a gyro
He is social media glorified
And he is adding friends to boost his pride
Captain Status, what a zero
You post when you eat a gyro
Going to tweet 100 times today
Because virtual communication is the only way
We are Captain Status
And you can be one too!
Cuz perpetually updating is the thing to do.
The Status is Yours!
Saturday, August 15, 2009
DPS
DPS: Drunk personality syndrome. This syndrome is characterized by extremely divergent behavior patterns while one is intoxicated versus while one is sober. People with dps exhibit different preferences after a few drinks, and they may like a certain type of music and hang out with different people while drunk. An innocent bystander might think, wow this dude is fun! He's the life of the party. He is busting a move on the dance floor, buying everyone shots and chatching it up.
Next time you hang out it earlier in the night before he's had a few drinks in him. His "favorite" song comes on and you say hey, let's go dance its your favorite song! He responds no, and I don't dance, with a confused and socially-awkward look on his face. You think to yourself, who replaced my friend with this boring droid.
DPS can be troubling to those around them because they are never quite sure who they really are. Most of the time the drunk personality is the more tolerable one (as long as they don't get super faded), because the sober side of the coin is someone who barely exhibits any signs of consciousness. How do these people get through the day? It's like they storing up all of their interesting personality inside until the drop of alcohol hits their body and becomes the catalyst for fun. As the vodka-Red Bull flows through their veins, Queen's "I want to break free" rings through their ears—Dr. Heckle leaves the building replaced by Mr. Fried.
Next time you hang out it earlier in the night before he's had a few drinks in him. His "favorite" song comes on and you say hey, let's go dance its your favorite song! He responds no, and I don't dance, with a confused and socially-awkward look on his face. You think to yourself, who replaced my friend with this boring droid.
DPS can be troubling to those around them because they are never quite sure who they really are. Most of the time the drunk personality is the more tolerable one (as long as they don't get super faded), because the sober side of the coin is someone who barely exhibits any signs of consciousness. How do these people get through the day? It's like they storing up all of their interesting personality inside until the drop of alcohol hits their body and becomes the catalyst for fun. As the vodka-Red Bull flows through their veins, Queen's "I want to break free" rings through their ears—Dr. Heckle leaves the building replaced by Mr. Fried.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Mayded
Mayded: Stands for mysteriously faded. It is the drunk that came out of no where. One second you are enjoying a great conversation with someone and the next you think hello intoxicated!
This term actually originated from my friend Christina. This peculiar phenomenon happens to her quite frequently. I turn to her to say something and I am like damn when did you get drunk! You only had one drink! But really I am thinking, I am jealous because I wish I could join her in her giggly merriment as she grooves to the music in the bar and makes covert pizza runs with a smirk on her face.
This term actually originated from my friend Christina. This peculiar phenomenon happens to her quite frequently. I turn to her to say something and I am like damn when did you get drunk! You only had one drink! But really I am thinking, I am jealous because I wish I could join her in her giggly merriment as she grooves to the music in the bar and makes covert pizza runs with a smirk on her face.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Hibernation Day
Hibernation Day: an obligatory day of rest. For anyone that knows me, I am kind of a busy body. And to counter this active lifestyle, I (like a bear) need to hole myself up in my home, in warm, comfy clothing (fur is not a requirement, but fuzzy slippers are) and hibernate—aka watch TV, sleep and eat in the same clothes for an extended period of time. It is important not to interrupt someone during hibernation as they will likely harm intruders—watch out for the grizzly growl. This day of rest is almost essential to my survival as a species, I missed a much needed hibernation day last week and now I am sick forcing me to hibernate for longer than I like to be out of commission.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
MOTO
MOTO: Master of the Obvious. This person is someone who has nothing insightful to contribute to a conversation or situation. They are good at, well, stating the obvious. It's like having a sports announcer for all things conspicuous.
This word actually goes way back to high school. I was in physics class and we were broken into lab groups. My friends and I had a great little science team, but then we were paired up with someone who we were not friends with—you can imagine the high school horror. We got over our annoyance and tried to integrate our new partner who we hoped with bring up the intelligence quotient of our group. Eh, wrong!
Lab after lab, when we were looking for analysis (or some kind of redux of the physical events that transpired), we got nothing. We were all racking our brains for formulas and trying to understand the physics mumbo jumbo, and all the while, her contributions would be obvious! Oh, the water is boiling. The ball rolled down the slope (yes we do know about gravity!). It turned blue. Thanks, your penetrating commentary is integral to the scientific discovery process, we are glad that you are in our lab. Thankfully, I have smart friends and we did well in physics no thanks to this intellectual free-loader. All I wanted to say to her is, you are the weakest link, goodbye.
This word actually goes way back to high school. I was in physics class and we were broken into lab groups. My friends and I had a great little science team, but then we were paired up with someone who we were not friends with—you can imagine the high school horror. We got over our annoyance and tried to integrate our new partner who we hoped with bring up the intelligence quotient of our group. Eh, wrong!
Lab after lab, when we were looking for analysis (or some kind of redux of the physical events that transpired), we got nothing. We were all racking our brains for formulas and trying to understand the physics mumbo jumbo, and all the while, her contributions would be obvious! Oh, the water is boiling. The ball rolled down the slope (yes we do know about gravity!). It turned blue. Thanks, your penetrating commentary is integral to the scientific discovery process, we are glad that you are in our lab. Thankfully, I have smart friends and we did well in physics no thanks to this intellectual free-loader. All I wanted to say to her is, you are the weakest link, goodbye.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
The Pepper Scale
The Pepper Scale: is a rating scale for how hot someone is. You control the pepper scale, there can be as many levels of heat as you crave, all the way up to the spiciest. Note: This scale is not for everyone, the person needs to be at least a little spicy to make the chart.
First on the scale is the bell pepper. These sweet peppers add only a little flavor to the situation, but no heat; they are neither attractive, nor ugly. Overall, meh.
Next up is the Anaheim. This mild pepper has just a little heat and features better than average looks—maybe it comes in the form of nice eyes or a warm smile.
The jalapeno follows the Anaheim and ups the heat quotient. A chile pepper found flavoring nachos and spicing up salsas, this level of heat is rather common, but hot none the less. This isn't the hottest pepper around, but whether it comes in the form of a nice hair or a hot ass—they are packing some heat. A great personality can make the pepper hotter!
Cayenne is hot, hot, hot. This spicy fruit (yes, it is considered a fruit, I actually looked it up) is virtaully the total package. Finding a cayenne pepper is more rare than a jalapeno because they boast the best features, and the most rare types have the charisma to match. But watch out, once you decide you can take the heat, these puppies can burn you.
Habañero, one of the hottest peppers of all, this person is supermodel hot—just too hot to handle. Before this caliente character you can hardly speak, like you ate a habañero, you're mouth (and your whole body) is on fire. This kind of heat your rarily experience in person and is most often observed via the TV, in magazine spreads, on billboards or on the big screen.
First on the scale is the bell pepper. These sweet peppers add only a little flavor to the situation, but no heat; they are neither attractive, nor ugly. Overall, meh.
Next up is the Anaheim. This mild pepper has just a little heat and features better than average looks—maybe it comes in the form of nice eyes or a warm smile.
The jalapeno follows the Anaheim and ups the heat quotient. A chile pepper found flavoring nachos and spicing up salsas, this level of heat is rather common, but hot none the less. This isn't the hottest pepper around, but whether it comes in the form of a nice hair or a hot ass—they are packing some heat. A great personality can make the pepper hotter!
Cayenne is hot, hot, hot. This spicy fruit (yes, it is considered a fruit, I actually looked it up) is virtaully the total package. Finding a cayenne pepper is more rare than a jalapeno because they boast the best features, and the most rare types have the charisma to match. But watch out, once you decide you can take the heat, these puppies can burn you.
Habañero, one of the hottest peppers of all, this person is supermodel hot—just too hot to handle. Before this caliente character you can hardly speak, like you ate a habañero, you're mouth (and your whole body) is on fire. This kind of heat your rarily experience in person and is most often observed via the TV, in magazine spreads, on billboards or on the big screen.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
E-PDA
E-PDA: is excessive-electronic PDA. We have all witnessed these overt, public and viral displays of affection—posted all over Facebook pages, in gchat away messages, tweets, photos and MySpace pages. The E-PDA offenders just want the Whole World Wide Web to know how much they love their love.
Which leads me to believe that this is all theatrics to say look WWWW, we are in love and you have to know about it. This is exactly what the couple making out in the checkout line of the grocery store is communicating through audible smooching noises, I want you (and you and you and you) to know that we could not resist kissing each other right here, right now, right next to the trashy tabloid magazines and last-minute impulse buys.
E-PDA is just that, we are just bursting with so much love that we have to send a message to my 600 hundred closest friends on Facebook about it, update my twitter status and change my MySpace wallpapper to pictures from our last date. However, this form of PDA does not really require any human contact. So are these characters exclusively overly affectionate via the online extension of themselves, or is this just one more way for them to annoy us with their eternal flame?
It can take many forms. Having constant profile pictures with significant others and commenting underneath it don't we look cute. Posting constant status updates saying I love my boyfriend, he's the best. Commenting incessantly on each other posts (like you didn't just see each other!). Revealing too much information about their intimate lives, (can we say earmuffs!).
I say to these people less is more. Because when you break up, it's going to be ugly and public. News of your relationship status will be beamed out to the WWWW (that you previously cherished as your noble devotees) via a broken heart symbol on Facebook signifying that you are now (begrudginly) on the market.
Which leads me to believe that this is all theatrics to say look WWWW, we are in love and you have to know about it. This is exactly what the couple making out in the checkout line of the grocery store is communicating through audible smooching noises, I want you (and you and you and you) to know that we could not resist kissing each other right here, right now, right next to the trashy tabloid magazines and last-minute impulse buys.
E-PDA is just that, we are just bursting with so much love that we have to send a message to my 600 hundred closest friends on Facebook about it, update my twitter status and change my MySpace wallpapper to pictures from our last date. However, this form of PDA does not really require any human contact. So are these characters exclusively overly affectionate via the online extension of themselves, or is this just one more way for them to annoy us with their eternal flame?
It can take many forms. Having constant profile pictures with significant others and commenting underneath it don't we look cute. Posting constant status updates saying I love my boyfriend, he's the best. Commenting incessantly on each other posts (like you didn't just see each other!). Revealing too much information about their intimate lives, (can we say earmuffs!).
I say to these people less is more. Because when you break up, it's going to be ugly and public. News of your relationship status will be beamed out to the WWWW (that you previously cherished as your noble devotees) via a broken heart symbol on Facebook signifying that you are now (begrudginly) on the market.
Flammable
Flammable: a drink that is soo strong that you feel like your are drinking rubbing alcohol. You know that kind of pour from the a-little-too-old-to-be-hitting-on-you bartender, who winks at you as he hands you your glass of vodka with a splash of soda. A drink that you can smell from across the dive bar and if a match were taken to your breath, fire would flow from your mouth. You want to drink it because it's such a good value (way too much bang for your buck), but you can hardly choke it down. So the flammable beverage becomes your new accessory, you carry it around with you all night as the ice melts the bubbles away from your virtually nonexistent soda and you continually spill it because it's soo full that it becomes even more disgusting.
You finally imbibe, in an act of desperation, for, afterall, the bar that you are at is even worse without it. The next drink is just as "dry," but somehow you just don't notice (alkie), and you proceed to get your "fire" on because like the dragon you are breathing fire.
You finally imbibe, in an act of desperation, for, afterall, the bar that you are at is even worse without it. The next drink is just as "dry," but somehow you just don't notice (alkie), and you proceed to get your "fire" on because like the dragon you are breathing fire.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Multi-Manger
Multi-Manger: is someone who does something else while they eat. From the french for to eat, manger, a multi-manger is essentially a multi-tasking eater. Someone who does not focus on their food while eating, but instead, answers the phone, walks around the office and replies to emails, all while trying to choke down the sandwich that they grabbed from downstairs in their five spare minutes of the day.
I hate to say it, but these days I spend many "lunch breaks" at my desk trying to update our company's social networking status or fact checking an article. This is the American way of life, and it no doubt contributes to obesity and our nation's unhealthy relationship with food. For all you know, I am eating right now as I am writing this—thankfully I am not, I try to save the multi-mangering for the office.
I hate to say it, but these days I spend many "lunch breaks" at my desk trying to update our company's social networking status or fact checking an article. This is the American way of life, and it no doubt contributes to obesity and our nation's unhealthy relationship with food. For all you know, I am eating right now as I am writing this—thankfully I am not, I try to save the multi-mangering for the office.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Splenda Daddy
Splenda Daddy: its a man who tries in vain to be a sugar daddy. He wears nice clothes, always has a drink in his hand (preferably a dark, malted beverage) and appears well-coiffed and overly perfumed. Despite all his efforts to create a sense of excessive wealth, Mr. Splenda really has no money to speak of, and this likely middle-aged specimen will go to great lengths to impress the lady folk.
A Splenda Daddy's manner of speech, dress and general demeanor are fueled by his penchant for younger women. You often find him floating indiscriminately from one 20-something to another, hoping to strike up a conversation with any unsuspecting, young female that will lend him an ear. Then when one victim falls prey to his rehearsed witticisms and over-used yacht stories, she listens patiently expecting that she time spent listening to his self-aggrandizing stories will be rewarded with a drink. He drones on so long about his lifestyles of the rich and famous (clearly overselling himself) that she ends up ordering herself a drink. She soon realizes that he can't afford one and the one in his hand was the result of a pilfered glass and a covert splash from the flask in the dark corner of the bar by the bathroom or mooched off of one of his actually wealthy friends. She tries to extricate herself from this unsavory situation, but he just won't give up until she makes "the gesture" to her friends to come rescue her.
Unlike the Sugar Daddy, this not-so convincing impostor has less luck with women. Many females can see through his attire of faded Seven jeans and a retro blazer (worn just one too many times) to the broke ass that lies within. The beamer he is driving is probably his dad's that he borrowed for the weekend and that watch on his wrist a knock-off from Ross. Veritable sugar daddies pounce on the hottest girls in the bar hoping that their power and fame will win over the object of their desire. While Splenda daddies go for the quantity approach working the field until someone gives in.
This name came about when my friend Nick and I encountered a specimen firsthand and couldn't quite decide what to call him. Then it hit us, his sleazy-sleek appearance and polished yet eager conversations made him a fake sugar daddy...and Splenda Daddy was born out of combined genius.
A Splenda Daddy's manner of speech, dress and general demeanor are fueled by his penchant for younger women. You often find him floating indiscriminately from one 20-something to another, hoping to strike up a conversation with any unsuspecting, young female that will lend him an ear. Then when one victim falls prey to his rehearsed witticisms and over-used yacht stories, she listens patiently expecting that she time spent listening to his self-aggrandizing stories will be rewarded with a drink. He drones on so long about his lifestyles of the rich and famous (clearly overselling himself) that she ends up ordering herself a drink. She soon realizes that he can't afford one and the one in his hand was the result of a pilfered glass and a covert splash from the flask in the dark corner of the bar by the bathroom or mooched off of one of his actually wealthy friends. She tries to extricate herself from this unsavory situation, but he just won't give up until she makes "the gesture" to her friends to come rescue her.
Unlike the Sugar Daddy, this not-so convincing impostor has less luck with women. Many females can see through his attire of faded Seven jeans and a retro blazer (worn just one too many times) to the broke ass that lies within. The beamer he is driving is probably his dad's that he borrowed for the weekend and that watch on his wrist a knock-off from Ross. Veritable sugar daddies pounce on the hottest girls in the bar hoping that their power and fame will win over the object of their desire. While Splenda daddies go for the quantity approach working the field until someone gives in.
This name came about when my friend Nick and I encountered a specimen firsthand and couldn't quite decide what to call him. Then it hit us, his sleazy-sleek appearance and polished yet eager conversations made him a fake sugar daddy...and Splenda Daddy was born out of combined genius.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Shamployee
Shamployee: an employee who pretends to work while not actually being productive. This worker comes in early and stays late, but never manages to get anything done. This person is constantly organizing, printing, photocopying, rexamining old projects or whatever it takes to keep them looking busy. He or she can be seen wondering around the office with an air of purpose, but never actually goes anywhere. A shamployee may approach a collegue as if to ask a question or give them something when in fact the shamployee forgets what he or she was going to say to the collegue and ends up hanging around and trying to strike up a conversation. This feigned hard worker also makes multiple trips to the kitchen to make tea or coffee which often remains on the kitchen counter unconsumed as a physical reminder of time wasted.
Surprisingly the charade of productivity does not stop there. Shamployees like to drag other people into their self-induced game of play progress. This character often initiates meetings about issues that do not need to be discussed just so that he or she may be productive by talking about getting work done. So many meetings in fact that you end up meeting more than you work. Work does not happen until much later, in fact at the last possible second—effectively screwing over all of their fellow workers.
This vile form of an employee also complains so much about the burden of his or her work that other people (who just want to get the job done) end up picking up the slack left by time spent wandering the office or pouring over meaningless, old files.
The most frustrating thing of all is that sometimes managers fail to see through the masquerade of the shamployee. They are fooled by the appealing mask of productivity and fail to see the truth behind their choreographed dance of time wasting—this person is just lazy. These employees will sometimes be rewarded for the "extra effort," which basically means they are there all the time and translates into, hi I don't have a life.
Surprisingly the charade of productivity does not stop there. Shamployees like to drag other people into their self-induced game of play progress. This character often initiates meetings about issues that do not need to be discussed just so that he or she may be productive by talking about getting work done. So many meetings in fact that you end up meeting more than you work. Work does not happen until much later, in fact at the last possible second—effectively screwing over all of their fellow workers.
This vile form of an employee also complains so much about the burden of his or her work that other people (who just want to get the job done) end up picking up the slack left by time spent wandering the office or pouring over meaningless, old files.
The most frustrating thing of all is that sometimes managers fail to see through the masquerade of the shamployee. They are fooled by the appealing mask of productivity and fail to see the truth behind their choreographed dance of time wasting—this person is just lazy. These employees will sometimes be rewarded for the "extra effort," which basically means they are there all the time and translates into, hi I don't have a life.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Vintage Mustang
Vintage Mustang: is the male version of a cougar. He is that older man you find at local watering holes that isn't a stallion anymore, but an older specimen roaming free in the singles field. These males sometimes travel in a herd along with their salt-and-pepper haired companions.
While in the wild, it's important to keep in mind that all Vintage Mustangs or "VM"s are not created equal. You can spot a VM that is in great condition with less visible signs of aging and maybe a few wrinkles caused by a recent divorce. Or you can get a really beat up mustang worn by years of drinking and hanging out in dive bars hitting on younger chicks. These creatures will flirt with anything that moves and don't have any standards, where as those in better condition are usually much more driven by physical appereance.
Many vintage mustangs like to impress younger chicks by talking about how much money they have and the accoutrements of their priveledged life. In San Francisco they like to graze in the Marina among the blond and the scantily clad to find their next hot young chick. And somehow the female inhabitants find their talk of money and their grey-flecked hair attractive.
While in the wild, it's important to keep in mind that all Vintage Mustangs or "VM"s are not created equal. You can spot a VM that is in great condition with less visible signs of aging and maybe a few wrinkles caused by a recent divorce. Or you can get a really beat up mustang worn by years of drinking and hanging out in dive bars hitting on younger chicks. These creatures will flirt with anything that moves and don't have any standards, where as those in better condition are usually much more driven by physical appereance.
Many vintage mustangs like to impress younger chicks by talking about how much money they have and the accoutrements of their priveledged life. In San Francisco they like to graze in the Marina among the blond and the scantily clad to find their next hot young chick. And somehow the female inhabitants find their talk of money and their grey-flecked hair attractive.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Josik
Josik: Arabic for "your husband," this is a word said to refer to a repulsive guy. You would say this to a female companion to joke around when you spot a rather unattractive male (that she would never consider in a million years or after that many beers) that is in your vicinity; as if to say he is soo unfortunate, I will marry you off to him. The utterance of this foreign sound launches this game of one-upmanship, and it's up to your companion to find you an even more fugly-looking specimen and so on—until the pickings are slim.
This not-so-nice diversion started in my youth, probably after a trip to Jordan, and it became a sort of sport that my sisters and I played out of boredom. The goal: to find the best (aka the worst) "husband" for each other by scanning the area looking for the most overweight, poorly dressed and disheveled male around, and upon sighting him we would utter josik before the other can spot the funny fellow. The ridiculous game eventually spread to our friends and the word still gets thrown around when the perfect specimen walks by. We found that it is especially amusing at places like ballparks and amusement parks where the people watching is great and varied.
This not-so-nice diversion started in my youth, probably after a trip to Jordan, and it became a sort of sport that my sisters and I played out of boredom. The goal: to find the best (aka the worst) "husband" for each other by scanning the area looking for the most overweight, poorly dressed and disheveled male around, and upon sighting him we would utter josik before the other can spot the funny fellow. The ridiculous game eventually spread to our friends and the word still gets thrown around when the perfect specimen walks by. We found that it is especially amusing at places like ballparks and amusement parks where the people watching is great and varied.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
DAS
DAS: drunk and stupid. It's pronounced with a Germanic accent and it refers to that particular condition that affects those who have reached their visible limit of alcohol consumption. When words just flow freely from his or her mouth with no censor and the individual (or individuals) behaves like a total idiot.
When they go beyond the typical DAS and reach a whole new level, then überDas is necessary. For that sloppy drunk who is still pretty funny, but all you can say is, they are soo wasted.
This word was conceived during a recent cab ride when my friend and I shrewdly walked up a hill to catch a cab while a group of guys lazily waiting on the corner. We hopped in the cab and this drunken group starting yelling inappropriate exclamations instead of being gentlementlike. Shocked at this unbecoming behavior, I said, they are just drunk and stupid. And DAS was born.
When they go beyond the typical DAS and reach a whole new level, then überDas is necessary. For that sloppy drunk who is still pretty funny, but all you can say is, they are soo wasted.
This word was conceived during a recent cab ride when my friend and I shrewdly walked up a hill to catch a cab while a group of guys lazily waiting on the corner. We hopped in the cab and this drunken group starting yelling inappropriate exclamations instead of being gentlementlike. Shocked at this unbecoming behavior, I said, they are just drunk and stupid. And DAS was born.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Mastache
Mastache (mah-stash): refers to unsightly facial hair on the upper lip of a woman (or someone that is perceived to be so). This unkempt individual either does not notice that her upper lip looks like a handlebar moustache out of a Western flick, or simply does not care. Well, I have news for you mastache-wearer, people notice—so just like the the Karate Kid wax on, wax off.
This word came about while my friend Christina and I were discussing an old mutual friend. The conversation shifted to this friend's mom, who, incidentally, has serious upper lip growth. So much so that Christina exclaimed through laughter, "It looks like her eyebrow fell on her lip!" After toying with a few ways to convey this message (and the gravity of the facial hair situation) we landed on mastache. Upper lips have never been the same since.
This word came about while my friend Christina and I were discussing an old mutual friend. The conversation shifted to this friend's mom, who, incidentally, has serious upper lip growth. So much so that Christina exclaimed through laughter, "It looks like her eyebrow fell on her lip!" After toying with a few ways to convey this message (and the gravity of the facial hair situation) we landed on mastache. Upper lips have never been the same since.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Slash
Slash: used to denote the truth will be coming after uttering a sugar-coated or semi-truthful statement. Can be used also to separate what was said to the public from what was the person actually experience or thought about the topic.
Her haircut was ok slash it looks like she paid $80 for an "edgy" coiffe executed by an old weed-wacker.
I am soo over it slash not really but saying it makes me feel better.
I told my boss that this is bullshit slash I thought that in my head and said ok this is not what I had in mind, but I will see what I can do through clenched teeth.
Her haircut was ok slash it looks like she paid $80 for an "edgy" coiffe executed by an old weed-wacker.
I am soo over it slash not really but saying it makes me feel better.
I told my boss that this is bullshit slash I thought that in my head and said ok this is not what I had in mind, but I will see what I can do through clenched teeth.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Frenemy
Frenemy: is someone often in your professional realm or social circle that you are nice to even though you don't like them, and you are fairly certain they don't like you. You don't really have any reason not to like them other than the fact that they rub you the wrong way. They are just a little too nice, too well put together or just too well connected, but you can see through the toothy grin to the fake friendship forged out of convenience and getting ahead.
Despite your efforts, you somehow always end up at the same place though both of you happen to avoid direct contact but remain distinctly aware of each other's presence. When you bump into (slash you are cornered and have no where else to run) you have pleasant conversations through forced smiles and feigned interest appearing to be friends to onlookers, successfully hiding your true feelings. The more you attend work events and social functions, the more you realize that everyone knows your frenemy and can't stop telling you how great she is (I mean hypothetically—I am not speaking from experience, of course). This drives you crazy and reinforces her frenemy status.
Despite your efforts, you somehow always end up at the same place though both of you happen to avoid direct contact but remain distinctly aware of each other's presence. When you bump into (slash you are cornered and have no where else to run) you have pleasant conversations through forced smiles and feigned interest appearing to be friends to onlookers, successfully hiding your true feelings. The more you attend work events and social functions, the more you realize that everyone knows your frenemy and can't stop telling you how great she is (I mean hypothetically—I am not speaking from experience, of course). This drives you crazy and reinforces her frenemy status.
Accurate
Accurate: something you would say when you are trying to validate a statement. This word does not refer to the results of scientific experiments or the theorems of physicists. Accurate can be used to over emphasize a statement, confirm a judgment while people watching or simply serve as a cocky response to a compliment.
The use of this word was popularized during, you guessed it, late-night imbibing. I got stuck on the word during a trip to Los Angeles and in lieu of using any other confirmation (or words at all) accurate quickly became my response to everything.
This place is ghetto, we should leave. Accurate.
That chick is showing a little too much skin, Britney Spears-style. Accurate.
You look super hot tonight. Accurate.
The use of this word was popularized during, you guessed it, late-night imbibing. I got stuck on the word during a trip to Los Angeles and in lieu of using any other confirmation (or words at all) accurate quickly became my response to everything.
This place is ghetto, we should leave. Accurate.
That chick is showing a little too much skin, Britney Spears-style. Accurate.
You look super hot tonight. Accurate.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Fired
Fired: is something you say to a friend or acquaintance when they disappoint you or when they do something stupid. It is not to be confused with their current employment situation, so use it with caution in the workplace. It is kind of like being friend fired a metaphorical way of temporarily being voted off the island or TV show a la Donald Trump.
This new meaning for the term originated in casual conversation with a possible male suitor, yes I said suitor, who asked me what my origins were. I responded with my usual from Jordan response and he responds So you must eat a lot of bagels. If by bagels you mean hummus and pita bread or to imply that since I am "Jewish" I eat a lot of bagels. I was like well, not really. Is this your way of asking if I am Jewish, because I am not. His response, I know a lot of Jews from Jordan, it's one of the most Jewish countries. To save myself (and him) from an embarrassing political discourse (that would not be facilitated by the multiple vodka sodas I had just consumed), all I could respond is You're fired. (Don't you even glance at the news headlines, seriously!)
And yes, I do like bagels and Jews for that matter, but what does that have to do with Jordan?
This new meaning for the term originated in casual conversation with a possible male suitor, yes I said suitor, who asked me what my origins were. I responded with my usual from Jordan response and he responds So you must eat a lot of bagels. If by bagels you mean hummus and pita bread or to imply that since I am "Jewish" I eat a lot of bagels. I was like well, not really. Is this your way of asking if I am Jewish, because I am not. His response, I know a lot of Jews from Jordan, it's one of the most Jewish countries. To save myself (and him) from an embarrassing political discourse (that would not be facilitated by the multiple vodka sodas I had just consumed), all I could respond is You're fired. (Don't you even glance at the news headlines, seriously!)
And yes, I do like bagels and Jews for that matter, but what does that have to do with Jordan?
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Unazi
Unazi: is someone who takes playing the game of Uno too seriously. They enforce every rule and even stop the game when they think that one code of the game is violated. Each transgression angers them more and more until they finally have to stop playing.
This term came from a particularly heated game of Uno during which my sister called out every rule in the book, and was from hence forth was dubbed Unazi (much to her dismay).
The term Unazi can be applied to aggressive players of any game. You know who they are, the rule book totting, game-stopping, obnoxious type who take game night to a whole new level, a level of anti-fun. The phrase it's just a game, was invented for them.
This term came from a particularly heated game of Uno during which my sister called out every rule in the book, and was from hence forth was dubbed Unazi (much to her dismay).
The term Unazi can be applied to aggressive players of any game. You know who they are, the rule book totting, game-stopping, obnoxious type who take game night to a whole new level, a level of anti-fun. The phrase it's just a game, was invented for them.
Friday, June 26, 2009
The Taxi Murmerer
The Taxi Murmerer: you know who you are, the perpetually talking cab drivers talking irreverently on their bluetooth headsets the entire ride. Is that really safe?
The scene: you get into a cab, your greet the cab driver and tell him (or rarely her) where you would like to be taken. He (or she) doesn't not respond but you think they responded because they are talking. But to who you ask yourself, to the hidden person on the other end of their bluetooth. In many circumstances these invasive conversation (resulting in the disregard of the passenger) occur in a language you don't understand causing a weird situation for the cab driver and the passenger. I try to talk to him and tell him that he is taking me the wrong way, but he does not listen...he is busy try to work out the details of the arranged marriage for his daughter. Seriously! Now I am at the wrong destination, you took the slowest streets to get me there and all I want to do, Taxi Murmerer, is get out of your cab.
After ignoring me the whole time do you really expect me to tip you.
The scene: you get into a cab, your greet the cab driver and tell him (or rarely her) where you would like to be taken. He (or she) doesn't not respond but you think they responded because they are talking. But to who you ask yourself, to the hidden person on the other end of their bluetooth. In many circumstances these invasive conversation (resulting in the disregard of the passenger) occur in a language you don't understand causing a weird situation for the cab driver and the passenger. I try to talk to him and tell him that he is taking me the wrong way, but he does not listen...he is busy try to work out the details of the arranged marriage for his daughter. Seriously! Now I am at the wrong destination, you took the slowest streets to get me there and all I want to do, Taxi Murmerer, is get out of your cab.
After ignoring me the whole time do you really expect me to tip you.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Rein Release Phobia
Rein Release Phobia: This is particular disease afflicts the most consummate micro managers. They will seriously just not let go. They give you assignment (you are filled with glee and a false sense of autonomy), which is followed by an inordinate influx of mini meetings and follow up emails regarding this assignment. You have so many interactions regarding this (and every assignment) that you don't even have time to get the job done.
While working with this person, all you really feel like you have accomplished throughout the day is over communication, which is underlined by the passive aggressive behavior (emails versus face-to-face contact) and condescension that is overshadowed by excessive worrying over every project, don't you think you have enough wrinkles!
To this you need to say, seriously, release the reins, I got this. I wasn't born yesterday and after all you hired me, I am a professional.
My advice if you encounter such an abhorrent specimen of professional is to you set the tone for independence early and be direct if not, you will be caught in the reins.
While working with this person, all you really feel like you have accomplished throughout the day is over communication, which is underlined by the passive aggressive behavior (emails versus face-to-face contact) and condescension that is overshadowed by excessive worrying over every project, don't you think you have enough wrinkles!
To this you need to say, seriously, release the reins, I got this. I wasn't born yesterday and after all you hired me, I am a professional.
My advice if you encounter such an abhorrent specimen of professional is to you set the tone for independence early and be direct if not, you will be caught in the reins.
Fröm
Fröm: is a mom that is your friend as well. She is not always a fröm but when you talk about certain things (and you don't want her to judge), you say ok I am going to tell you this as a fröm and not a mom. Moms can transition in and out of this status depending on the situation, like when you get pedis together she is your fröm and when she scolds you about leaving the window open in your aparment and asks you is this safe, then she is your mom, obviously!
Friday, June 19, 2009
Frenaissance
Frenaissance: is a rekindling or rebirth of friendship after a long absence, or one that appears to be so. This could be a conversation, an outing or even a weekend extravaganza, the choice is yours!
I owe this word to my sister, Tamara, who uses it often and since then it has frequently been used in my vocab.
I owe this word to my sister, Tamara, who uses it often and since then it has frequently been used in my vocab.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
SMS
SMS: Short Man Syndrome. Commonly known as Napoleon complex this sociocultural phenomenon occurs generally in adults males who are small in stature and who have a propensity towards anger. Just think of the little yappy dogs who bark all day because they want to be heard; males who exhibit SMS tend to talk louder, try harder in sports, talk more shit (and won't admit defeat) and can be overall just plain abnoxious.
Next time you encounter such a person just think of the small yap dog and say, down boy!
Next time you encounter such a person just think of the small yap dog and say, down boy!
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Hovercraft
Hovercraft: is a person (or group of persons) who linger or hover around your desk or in your personal space long after your conversation has ended. In some cases no conversation took place at all and you are not really sure why they are there, but yet they linger. This unwanted hovering causes social awkwardness and prompts the hoveree act abruptly to throw the hoverer off of their hover rotation.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Frawesome
Frawesome: Stands for fucking-rad-awesome is used in cases where awesome just doesn't cut it. Can be used to indicate total awesomeness like that happy hour was frawesome. It can also be used to denote sarcasm when something was just that bad like The way my boss threw me under the boss was frawesome.
Saber Tooth
Saber Tooth: This is the word used for a woman that is, well, past her prime. She is too old to be a cougar and in reality she is a grandma, but just doesn't want to admit it. I have seen many of these specimens (enhanced by surgical advances) in their designer wear at bars in San Francisco. And like the long-toothed cats of our past, these felines are extinct in the social scene.
The Inagural Post
A wise friend of mine once said that I always had my own way of saying things, she said that I needed a Talia dictionary. Its funny that I ended up becoming a writer and now I get paid for my "unique voice" as they say in the biz.
Well Jessica this blog is for you, I have decided to create a loose dictionary with all the words and phraseology that makes me, me.
Well Jessica this blog is for you, I have decided to create a loose dictionary with all the words and phraseology that makes me, me.
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