No Poles, More Ladies

I seriously received a work-related file with this name tonight:

AMOA DAY FINAL color adjust psdd v4 no poles more ladies tighter crop.jpg

Our Family Hearts The Ice Truck Killer

Through the miracle of Netflix, we have watched almost all 12 episodes of Dexter: Season One in a single sitting. One of us is developing a serious man-crush.

I'm For Obama, But THIS I Don't Tolerate

Is it really that hard to learn that the apostrophe does not a plural noun make?

Favorite NBA Scoreboard Message

It's Time For Bangers!

Neology

The Washington Post has published the winning submissions to its yearly neologisms, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.

The winners are:

Coffee (n.), the person upon whom one coughs

Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained

Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach

Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk

Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent

Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown

Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp

Gargoyle (n.), olive-flavored mouthwash

Flatulence (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller

Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline

Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam

Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists

Pokemon (n), a Rastafarian proctologist

Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms

Frisbeetarianism (n.), The belief that, when you die, your Soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there

Circumvent (n.), an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men

Overheard at Work

Thanks, I’ll get that tickled!

Why Can't This Be My Job?

The Washington Post's Style Invitational asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.

Here are this year's winners:

Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

Foreploy (v): Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.

Giraffiti (n): Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

Inoculatte (v): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

Hipatitis (n): Terminal coolness.

Osteopornosis (n): A degenerate disease.

Karmageddon (n): Its like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.

Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

Glibido (v): All talk and no action.

Dopeler effect (n): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you're eating.

And the pick of the literature:

Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an asshole.

Monkey Cold Medina

Just What Kind of Hint Is That?

Today's exercise on my Scrabble page-a-day desk calendar - something kept distracting me from completing it.

Refranes: Repitanlo

Mucho ruido y pocas nueces.

Grossest Word in Tonight's Democratic Debate

Fissile

My Favorite Foreign Laws - Part One

1. Eat a Sandwich!
2. No, Your Child Will NOT Become a Superhero Just Because You Name Him Aquaman.

Campfire Girl: Why I Love Yards

On This Day in History

It's in the Hole!

Par: 72
Me: 110
Golf Balls Lost: 7
Golf Balls Found: 8
Favorite Golf Ball: Fuzz "Wicked Long, Wicked Soft"
Shiners: 4
Expensing the Round: Priceless

Apparently This Is an Emergency in Old English

From: [Site Manager]
Sent: Thursday, April 10, 2008 4:38 PM
To: [Construction Manger]
Subject: [Project] offices
Importance: High

Is there any rime or reason to the outlets in each office. There isn't any color coding that you know of that indicates what should be plugged where, is there?

[Site Manager]
[Company] Real Estate
Site Manager - [Building]

Say Anything

Madness Subsides

Word of the Day: luftmensch

The Word of the Day for April 7 is:

luftmensch \LOOFT-mensh (the “OO” is as in “foot”)\ noun

: an impractical contemplative person having no definite business or income

Example sentence:

I worry that my nephew, who has several advanced degrees but no practical skills, will be a luftmensch all his life.

Did you know?

Are you someone who always seems to have your head in the clouds? Do you have trouble getting down to the lowly business of earning a living? If so, you may deserve to be labeled a "luftmensch." That airy appellation is an adaptation of the Yiddish "luftmentsh," which breaks down into "luft" (a Germanic root meaning "air" that is also related to the English words "loft" and "lofty") plus "mentsh," meaning "human being." "Luftmensch" was first introduced to English prose in 1907, when Israel Zangwill wrote, "The word 'Luftmensch' flew into Barstein's mind. Nehemiah was not an earth-man.... He was an air-man, floating on facile wings."

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!

Yesterday marked my indoor soccer debut. I calculated that it may have been 20 years since I last played soccer of any kind (unless foozball counts) which is pretty amazing when you consider that within that same span of time I've spent at least an afternoon playing just about every other sport except ice hockey but including tackle football.

My debut began later than planned, as I sprinted across to the bench as the starting whistle blew. See, at about 9:00 before the 9:30 game I realized that I only owned one shin guard and no indoor shoes. I put on my shorts in the parking lot of the Academy on 290. My team was still happy to see me (and as I gathered my lungs from off the turf later on that morning I realized why) and I got into the game with about 15 minutes remaining in the first half.

The first ball that came my way was an excellent pass up the sideline that would have put me in a one-on-one breakaway to the goal. My response? Fall flat on my face. I mean, the closest person to me was probably 25-30 feet away, the ball was already gone upfield, and I turned around to run toward the goal and just ate it - belly buster onto the omniturf, sending all those little black rubber pellets flying. Strangely, despite overwhelming evidence that I may not be able to stay upright, my teammates let me keep playing.

Kicking a soccer ball is hard. Just as Kristi Yamaguchi has taught us that ballroom dancing is nothing like figure skating, I have to say that playing soccer is nothing like playing basketball or field hockey. Your whole center of gravity is different when your lower body is responsible not only for moving your mass around but also for moving the ball - I'm used to that being my arms' job. When in basketball and field hockey you can lunge for a loose ball, I found out (repeatedly) that if you try to lunge for a ball with your legs and miss, your feet usually keep on going without bothering to wait for your upper body to join. The result: a lot of rubber pellets in your socks, shoes, and unmentionables as well as a 3-inch by 4-inch strawberry on your left knee and shin. (I actually did just measure it.)

I also found out that I am capable of the joy-threshold of a seven-year-old. I am not apolgizing for it, either. In fact, I am ecstatic over its rediscovery. See, I scored a goal. It was a terrible, terrible, weak, bouncing goal, but it counted. When I was on the field, I raised my arms and jumed once, but then acted cool - you know, like I'd been there before. But when I got home, I was a babbling idiot to my husband: "Honey guess what!" I shouted as a opened the back door. "I scored a goal! SO COOL! SoccerissomuchfuntheothergirlsonmyteamaresoneatitwastotallyAWESOME!" and I collapsed into a heap on the rug next to where he was sitting playing Madden on Xbox. He finally got me to shut up about it by convincing me to shower to clean off my turf wound. Then I called my mom's cell phone and told IT about my goal. Then I called my grandmother and told her. She, of course, wants to come see my next game.

I really do like team sports. Next goal I'm going to pretend like I'm an airplane.

Ridiculous Spam Subject Line of the Day

Don't waste your life with your right hand.

Give Me Back My Mojo!

I am really excited to try to host a game of MojoKickball.

Hotter than the Fourth

Willie's Fourth of July Picnic Coming to Selma.

Fantasy Baseball after Opening Day