Word of the Day: Vexatious

vex·a·tious ( P ) Pronunciation Key (vk-sshs)
adj.
Causing or creating vexation; annoying.
Full of annoyance or distress; harassed.
Intended to vex or annoy.

You know those kind of flip flops people wear that make incredible noise when you walk -- thunk, thunk, thunk?

An earlier conversation with coworker:

Ali: Are those your flip-flops I keep hearing?

Me: Even you suggesting that hurts me violently. I am about ready to go chop off that woman's feet. If she doesn't stop walking around in those things, I'm going to have to quit.

What is wrong with society that we must wear shoes that clearly serve no purpose but to annoy the hell out of coworkers as you thunk thunk thunk down the hall, back and forth, in and out of the kitchen, to the bathroom, to the printer, back to your desk. Lady, you're HURTING me!

This post on a blog I found has exactly the comments I want to make about flip flops, except if I posted all my complaints about them on here, you'd probably all stop reading because you'd think I was a lunatic. (P.S. I'm only crazy when it comes to strange and annoying office noises.) Here's my favorite comment:

Flip flops are hell for me. You know that *thing* that just drives you up the wall for no discernable reason and makes you want to rip off heads and scream and you have to look at pictures of cute baby animals until you calm down? Yep, that’s flip flops for me. Both the thwap-thwap when they pick up their feet and the skoosh-skoosh when they don’t. Aiee.

Addition: Perfect, the Washington Post doesn't like flip flops either!

Flip-flop defenders like to point to how comfortable they are. You know what? So are pajamas. And bathrobes. But you don't see your co-workers rolling up to the office in tank tops and flannel pants, do you?

Hot!

It's predicted to be 92 degrees today. That's fabulous. Don't get me wrong. I love warm weather. However, with weather changes comes the inevitable days worth of suffering in this office because whoever runs the temperature is incompetent.

Right now it is 80 degrees outside. But it is 82 degrees in the building. How does this occur? Do they get kicks out of turning up the heat just before the poor workers come back from the long weekend? "Burn um out!" Or is it the bosses making this decision? "We can't fire them, so we'll just make them sweat a little."

My coworker was locked out of her storage shed over the weekend and couldn't get her summer clothes out so she is currently wearing long sleeves and heavy wool pants. At least I'm not her. Darn it's hot.

Word of the Day: Abandoned

So here it is, the Friday before Memorial Day weekend and I am the only -- yes, the only -- person still in the office. My coworkers mostly all took the day off. That's fine. Except, they let us out early today, as the goverment sometimes does, and because my lovely coworkers are not here to do their jobs, I must stay and do their jobs for them before I can leave. Now when they said they were taking the day off, I didn't know this would keep me from taking part in the early release. Now I'm bummed.

It's quiet in here. And I'm a little scared. Deserted cubes and empty office air is a little worrisome to me. Who knows what could happen in an office when you're alone. All the lights might shut off soon, actually, because they are on a sensor and the only thing in the room that is moving is my fingers on the keyboard.

Oh how I despise the Photo of the Day.

To keep myself busy in the deserted realm of my pitiful existence in this office, I am looking up old Top Ten lists. Here's a good one for the weekend.

Top Ten Signs A Guest At Your Memorial Day Barbecue Is A Spy

10. He introduces himself as "00-Larry."

9. Keeps whispering into the potato salad.

8. Embarrassing slip up -- refers to A-1 Sauce as "The B-1 Bomber."

7. Seems oddly knowledgeable about who wants a burger and who wants a hot dog.

6. Kid who beats him in sack race sent to Siberian prison.

5. Asks if the hibachi has a gyroscopic laser guidance system.

4. Wears an apron which reads, "Kiss the spy."

3. You ask him how he likes his burger -- he bites down on a cyanide tablet.

2. After a couple drinks starts telling you nuclear launch codes.

1. He seems awfully interested in the Titan missiles you keep in the shed.

Word of the Day: Apocryphal

a·poc·ry·phal
Of questionable authorship or authenticity.
Erroneous; fictitious
Apocryphal Bible. Of or having to do with the Apocrypha.

Get this. A man is suing the Catholic Church for proof that Jesus existed.

I'm not kidding. It's on CNN.

He says the church is doing a lot of harm by continuing to profess that the man they build their credibility on is in fact not all that credible. He argues that all the historical proof of Jesus is not exactly "historical" but is merely fictional representations used to write a book, The Bible. He calls it a "con" and an abuse of the public's faith, the claim that Jesus ever existed. He calls Jesus a fictional "character", a mythical figure used to tell parables.

Use some common sense, man! Are you saying that Jesus is Coyote??

He sued a priest because he couldn't sue the Pope. The case was then stopped because the prosecutor said there was no evidence to take the process farther because there was no way to confirm or confute the claim that Jesus was who the church professes he is. The church claims there is evidence in the gospels and in Greek and Jewish histories. But this man claims that the gospels cannot prove Jesus.

Okay, I tend to agree with him that the Bible cannot prove the Bible. Many times the church uses this sort of circular reasoning. But it seems to me there are enough historical accounts of Jesus outside of church documents, including the sarcophogus of James, Jesus' brother, which states "James, brother of Jesus" on the side in script.

But let's assume Jesus was not real, that he was indeed a mythical figure. Darn. Millions and millions of people are going to feel pretty stupid upon death when they find this out for themselves. The thing is, I'd rather spend a lifetime believing in a fairytale then an eternity burning in hell.

An Ode to Elliot

Elliot...

This cool guy came to visit last week after spending the past year in the Israeli Army, which he enlisted himself into voluntarily in 2004. Why? I like to think he got bored of his job or he hated his friends or something (impossible seeing as we *are* his friends) ... but I think he just wanted to do something good with himself.

Maybe I should give Elliot a code name so I don't give away his identity in cyberspace. Only problem is I can't think of a good enough name. Michelle and I went to New York City in 2003 with Elliot to crash a party his friends were throwing. We had the best time and coincidentally came up with a title for a very interesting book "A British Guy on the Jersey Turnpike". And believe me, you don't ever want to come across one of those. Scary.

So anyway, that's the whole story. I told him I was going to take this photo and he wasn't all that happy about it, but this is why I took your picture, Elliot. We must preserve the memories. Just forget about that last shot we made you do. Big mistake. I hope you don't hate us.

Word of the Day: Conflate

conflate \kuhn-FLAYT\, transitive verb:
1. To bring together; to fuse together; to join or meld.
2. To combine into one whole.

This weekend was so much fun. In order to illustrate, I must use photos. So welcome to my weekend slideshow:

First was Barb's Big Backyard BBQ: Barb is my awesome coworker. We all drove down to Fredericksburg to her amazing dream home that they built. It's gorgeous. The best part about the BBQ, aside from the yummy food and the good company, was that Michelle, Dida and I were together again.



And the bad part about Barb's party was the traffic. It took approximately 45 minutes to get there, and about 2.5 hours to get back. Therefore, I was a bit, okay a lot, late for Lindsey's birthday party. I don't have a photo of this stop. We went to her house for a bit and then out to Eleventh in Arlington (which I love) but I had a hard time loving it this time due to a HUGE headache that refused to go away.

And that brings us to Sunday. We had an awesome social with the best group of guys, our good friends, the Apples group. Why do we call them the Apples group? It has something to do with a game we played once. Anyway, I was asked how I met this group and it occured to me that it would make a good book. The first line would be "It all started on a boat on the Sea of Galilee." However it began, the Apples group is great fun. The BBQ was fabulous. The weather was perfect (mostly because we *thought* it would rain and it didn't). The company was great. And best of all, there was a bag and a half of charcoal leftover so I guess that means there are more BBQs in our future.

SCREEN ON THE GREEN

Screen on the Green starts July 17!!! Who's coming with me?

Word of the Day: Cliche

cli·ché also cliche ( P ) Pronunciation Key (kl-sh)
n.
A trite or overused expression or idea
A person or character whose behavior is predictable or superficial

Yesterday I skipped work to attend the Writer's Digest Writer's Conference in conjuction with the Book Expo of America. I was thrilled that Jerry B. Jenkins was there as the keynote speaker. He had a lot of insightful things to say, and a little bit of encouragement to the hopefuls in the audience. I don't know what I was expecting really -- possibly just some motivation and encouragement. I did come away with some of that, although most of the stuff I learned I already knew. I know that being a writer of anything these days means that you're going to have to wait through numerous rejections before getting published, if you ever do. I know that even when you do, oftentimes the product is not exactly what you expected. But I also know that to not write is not a choice for many writers. Me included. If I did not write, I would not be me. It's how I define myself and how I share myself with the world. Some people are able to express themselves to other people through discussion, and others express themselves through art, like painting and drawing and acting. To not put words on paper is like suffocating me with a heavy hand.

The only really crazy part was the lunch speaker who claimed that no one has original thoughts and we are actually making ourselves stupider by succumbing to what he calls "dimwitticisms". These dimwitticisms are colloquial and cliched andm etaphorical phrases that we say just by force of habit, such as "a dime a dozen" "piece of cake" "just in the knick of time" etc. The guy rattled off a hundred phrases we use everyday, and though they are undoubtedly overused and somewhat dim, there is no possible way to write and/or speak without using one. Try it. It's impossible. In any case (another dimwitticism) it would be just as vexing to try to speak without them as it is to use them repeatedly. Consider this sentence: The conference ran like clockwork, on the other hand, there was a heated debate over metaphors. If I were trying to avoid these dimwitticisms and replace them with original thoughts so I don't force my reader to become stupider, the sentence would have to look something like this: The conference was successful in that there were no problems and each activity pleased the attendees. Several conference attendees quarrelled about the overuse and/or misuse of specific phrases that make use of another object as a similar comparison for the original thought. Wouldn't you much prefer I just say it rather than muck it all up like that?

One thing I learned is that having a blog is quite beneficial to your eventual writing career so at least I have a headstart on that.

Hawaii

I realized that I never mentioned Hawaii on the blog when I got back except to say that life had gone completely back to normal the second I stepped off the plane. Ignoring the subject on my blog is a little like ignoring my wet and dirty shoes that were sufficiently wrapped in a plastic bag. I just discovered the bag yesterday and the shoes, I discovered, were encased in mold. Nothing a tumble in the washer can't fix. So I figure if I at least post some photos on my blog, it'll be a little like ridding the shoes of mold.



Michelle and I sat underneath this palm tree contemplating how much better life in Hawaii is than life in Washington DC. I could come up with a full list of reasons, but most of you already know them. So I'll spare you. Needless to say, one of the reasons is this very palm tree. And another is this:


The World's Best Mai Tai.

Word of the Day: Cotton

Oh how I wish I were laying between my lovely cotton sheets right now sleeping blissfully. Getting out of bed at 8am this morning was *not* a good idea.

But my comfy bed not what this entry is about, sadly. It's about cotton. Not the noun, but the verb. Who knew cotton could be used as a verb? Timoni pointed this out to me this morning and I feel it is important enough to tell the world about. You may have been living your life all this time without knowing you could use the word cotton as a verb in your vocabularly, thus severly limiting the amount of things you *could* be saying if you adopted it's use. So here is how you can add the cotton to your lexicon.

intr.v. cot·toned, cot·ton·ing, cot·tons

To take a liking; attempt to be friendly: a dog that didn't cotton to strangers; an administration that will cotton up to the most repressive of regimes.

To come to understand. Often used with to or onto: “The German bosses... never cottoned to such changes”

From now on, you can say things like "I cotton you" instead of the bland and overused "I like you".

"I cottoned him, he started to cotton me back" to show your compassionate attempt at friendship towards another.

The possibilities are endless that you'll start cottoning the word and will begin using it with frequency.

Word of the Day: Crapulous

crapulous \KRAP-yuh-lus\, adjective:
1. Suffering the effects of, or derived from, or suggestive of gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous stomach.
2. Marked by gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous old reprobate

I've left the sunshine, the white sandy beaches and the fruity drinks of Hawaii in exchange for the life I've, for some unknown reason, opted to build for myself in Washington, D.C. I contemplated staying in Hawaii. I've designed a plan which would allow me to live in Hawaii year-round and generate enough cash to basically buy my own island if I chose to do so. My only hang-up with the plan is that it would require me to work early morning hours, and we all know that I'm incapable of doing that. Judging by the fact that I've missed the bus two mornings in a row, I don't see being able to pull off this plan of mine. But perhaps when I live in Hawaii I won't care what time of the morning I have to get up. Because I… live in… Hawaii. ALOHA!

Last night was another David Shelby ATM party. This one was a rager. I'm surprised that half of the participants are even alive today, much less at work. A bottle of expensive tequila was given to Tofu Todd as a parting gift and it was summarily drained within half an hour. I was not "crapulous" last night, but so many were that I feel it's necessary to use the word because it's just so fitting. I particularly enjoy the "gross intemperance" part because that's the whole crux of the ATM (Anti-Temperance Monday). But drinking six tequila shots after work on Monday when you've had no dinner and must attend work the next day is probably a pretty crapulous thing to do.