Tag Archives: funny

lists schmists

Do you have any words that just kill you? Make you want to throw up in your mouth or all over the person next to you on the bus? Or how about those words that just make your friggin’ day, and you have no idea why, whether it be the way the letters just dance on your tongue, or how exc ited you get when you can actually use that word in a sentence, or in a term paper?

I figured since I’m a writer and an English major, it’s only natural that one (or two) of my lists be about one of my favorite things ever – words. Obviously there are thousands if not MILLIONS of words in the English language, and if I went through the entire dictionary it would take forever for me to comprise these lists. So here are abridged versions of my favorite and least favorite words, based on a) the way they sound/feel to say, b) what they mean/represent, and c) just general opinion lacking any true reason. Warning: some are vulgar.

Words I hate:

The C Word – an obvious starting point

MOIST – see above.

Torn, ruptured, detached, or anything of the like in regards to body parts

Squeamish/queezy

Ointment – stopstopstopstop

Gangrene

Loin

Faggot

Curdled – is it bad that I can smell this word?

Goiter

Clitoris – this word just makes me angry, no real reason why

Maggot – it invokes awful images in my brain

Toot – Just stop.

Any slang word to describe male or female sexy parts

Titillating

Spleen

Pus – why?

Panties – MY LEAST FAVORITE WORD, EVER

Words I love:

Juxtaposition – I try to use it in every English paper I write

Blasé, Passé, Résumé, and any other word that automatically is accented in MS Word

Flabbergasted

Willy-nilly

Wishy-washy

Cerulean – love the color and the word

Scrumtrulescent – I had to

Oblivion

Synecdoche – not only is it fun/difficult to say, but it’s one of my favorite literary devices

Ejercicio – not in English, but still a very delightful word to say

Superfluous

Cornucopia

Colloquial

Xi – especially on a triple word score in Scrabble

Tempestuous

Cantankerous – though I never know when/how to use it

Antidisestablishmentarianism – I was reminded about this word by my uncle; never used it in my life

Plethora

I’d be curious to hear about the words that make you squeamish or fill you with a cornucopia of delight! :)

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listing my neuroses, i mean…fears

So. In an attempt to allow my readers to learn a little more about me – note the empty About the Author page – I’ve decided to compile a few lists in the next couple of days. Because who doesn’t like a good list every now and again? In my eyes, neurotic list-making is about as American as obesity and reality TV. Let’s go!

My Top 5 Strangest/Funniest Fears (in no particular order):

1. Electricity: Yep, you heard me. Anyone who knows me at all has probably been asked by yours truly to plug any major appliance into a wall socket, international converter, or surge protector (the word “protector” means nothing to me) at least once in their life. Ironically, the smaller/”dinkier” the plug, the less afraid I am of getting electrocuted. It’s those dang 3-prong suckers that freak me out. Will it kill me? Unless I’m blow-drying my hair in the bathtub, probably not. And yet I dry my hands 10 times before even walking near a plug, I don’t wear slippers on carpet, and sometimes I stand for 20 minutes, holding the plug, staring at the socket, and pep-talking/praying before actually proceeding.

I tried searching Yahoo! Answers for common cures to this incredibly inconvenient and slightly embarrassing phobia, or at least validation that others share this fear and I’m not insane. To my surprise, someone else actually had this same fear! However, upon further reading, I saw all the answers had been something along the lines of, “Go stick a fork in your toaster.” If I needed any proof of how foolish I am for being afraid of electricity, that certainly took care of it. (But seriously, if anyone has any advice more helpful than that, it would be greatly appreciated.)

2. Eyes: Not in the paranoid, Rockwell’s “Somebody’s Watching Me” kind of way, but more in the “Is than an Xray of my eye? I thought it was an alien fetus” kind of way. Anything having to do with eyes – touching, poking, scratching, slicing, bulging – makes me squeamish (so does the word “squeamish,” but that’s a whole different barrel of monkeys). I refused to wear contacts until I was 15 because I was perturbed by the thought of me having to touch my own eyeball. When my mother told me she had to have cataract surgery, and when she told me she was going to be awake for the procedure, and then when she started recounting the procedure to me, I thought I would die. I can’t stand looking at bloodshot eyes, because my own eyes force me to zoom in on those little clusters of stringy red veins. And if you have a popped blood vessel in your eye, back away now. Because if you think looking like a child accidentally colored in the wrong place with a red crayon is bad enough, try having me vomit in your face. Seriously.

Needless to say, this video will forever haunt my dreams: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jxHQ1zMWSEk&feature=related

3. The Dark: If you’re ever in my room and you happen to see a little pink lamp on my stereo, yeah, that’s my nightlight. Maybe it’s a step up from a traditional My Little Pony or Barney nightlight, but the concept is still the same: can’t sleep in the dark. It’s not a fear only assigned to nighttime, and it’s not so much the fear that the Boogie Man will jump out at me, unannounced, and tear my face open or whatever it is that he does; it’s more the general fear of not knowing what’s in front of- or around me, at any time of the day (but mostly at night, let’s face it).

4. Fire: Or should I say, starting fires. Years ago, when I was home alone, I tried lighting a match for one of my candles. When I lit it, I got freaked out by the thought of burning my finger off, and without any thought, I threw the match to the floor. Still lit. On the carpet. With that little stroke of genius, I could’ve burnt the whole apartment down, giving me more of a reason to be afraid of fire. But thankfully, it went out before hitting the floor. Either way, I’m sure my mother loved reading that little nugget.

Between lighting matches or using lighters, I guess I’m just afraid of the idea of fire being so close to my hand. As if the match is going to burn out in .4 second, giving me no time to do anything but stand there and watch my finger crumble into a pile of ash like someone standing too close to dynamite in a cartoon. Or maybe it’s a fear that subconsciously arose from years of being told that my brother almost burned his nose off from blowing out the candles on his 3rd birthday.

5. Mezzanine seating in a theater/stadium: Okay, so this stems from a larger, more mainstream fear of heights. But something about the height and the depth combination of nosebleed seats sends me running for the hills (the non-steep hills). If a nosebleed is the worst thing to happen to me here, then I can’t complain. Logically, I know it’s no less safe than floor seating. However, in my twisted, worst-case-scenario mentality, I envision myself, oh I don’t know, somehow defying gravity and somersaulting over ten rows of seats and then, unable to stop myself, being hurled over the railing and going kersplat all the way down in orchestra seating. Do I really think that will happen? No, but tell that to my trembling knees when I arrive in Section 507 Row Q.

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grimy girls & googly eyes

While spending some time with my man friend (aka the love of my life, Dan) at a local mall, I had an almost encounter that filled my chest with feelings of amusement, anger, and a pinch of embarrassment. I classify it as almost because the encounter had happened when she was already behind me. Allow me to explain:

Have you ever had a moment where you’re sort of lost in your own thoughts, eyes mindlessly drifting from face to face as you pass through a crowd? You are aware that you are looking at people, and not just space, even (especially) when you catch their eye, but you look anyway because, you tell yourself, it is only for a split second. And it’s always a mutual agreement between you and that person – it’s harmless. Still with me? Okay good.

That’s normal. However, there are the rare cases when something about that person catches your attention, unintentionally. You’re still “staring off into space” but now you are slightly more aware that you are staring at someone because you choose to stare longer. It still only lasts a matter of seconds, but this unexpected “overtime” causes a severe misunderstanding in your subject; now that you have exceeded the split-second window of acceptable staring, you are officially “grilling” them. This is a serious no-no.

I got schooled on the topic of (in)appropriate eye wandering by a girl, walking towards me, who must have been at least 5 years younger than me. She was walking with a boy who had noticeably dyed his hair platinum blonde in the last week or so. Actually, of the two, he’s who originally caught my eye, for obvious reasons. I was going to look away, returning to Dan and what we were talking about, when all of a sudden, before I knew it, I was looking at Judy Attitudey. And what’s more, my eyes had overstayed their welcome in her general direction.

To make a frighteningly long story a little shorter, she was pissed. As we were escaping each other’s peripheral vision, she raised an eyebrow, practically curled her upper lip into her nostril, and her face took on this absolutely disgusted look (similar to the one happening in my brain when I saw the life-size Ken doll and his wicked ‘do). She waited until I was well out of reach to shout “Why was she looking at me?!” And for those who are not familiar with the language of Bitch, allow me to offer a phonetic spelling and translation:

How it was said: “WHY was she looKINGggggGgg at meeeEeE-YUH???!” (I’m sure there was a seizure-like eye roll to boot)
What it meant: “Why do I hafta be so ridiculously good looking that strangers in the mall have to stare at me? What, is she gay or something?! My life is so frustrating because of this overwhelming beauty… *le sigh*”

If you don’t believe me, well… you should. Girls like that assume that anyone who looks their way must be infatuated with them, male or female. Must be because they are so breathtakingly fantabulous. I know this because I was friends with a girl like this, and it was torture.

At first, I was slightly embarrassed. Probably because she misinterpreted the situation and was now shouting about it on the 3rd floor of the mall. Probably because innocent passers-by are now looking at me registering that I’m that person. I know with people like that – who you pass by at the mall – you can only recognize that you’ll NEVER see them again, but for that brief moment a tinge of humiliation can’t help but seep into my bloodstream.

But because I was with Dan and didn’t want to seem childish in that moment, I decided to be amused. It was pretty funny how pathetic it was. But then, in an instant, my blood started to boil. What an obnoxious little bitch! It got me thinking about why girls (obnoxious ones) act that way. My guess (writing under the pseudonym of Captain Obvious) would be that it’s an insecurity thing. Instead of assuming that I wasn’t paying attention to where my eyeballs were turning, or wondering if something was wrong with her (a train of thought her frosty friend should take up), she assumed that I was staring out of jealousy or something trite of that nature. Fact is, I get incredibly paranoid when someone else is experiencing those pupil-malfunctions in my directions, and especially if they’re deliberately staring. I assume I’m the one with the problem. Maybe that’s how she felt too. The difference is, I internalize it, or just downright ignore it. She turned it into a one-man Jerry Springer show, minus the midget body guards. And there, my friends, is the first of many differences between me and 99% of the female population.

If I cared enough, I would’ve marched back to her and said, flatly “Get over yourself.” She needed to hear that. But because she lacks maturity, she probably would’ve reached for my scalp and pulled my hair out with her freshly sharpened cat claws. Instead, I walked away and laughed about it with Dan and decided (hoped) that she’ll learn to do that someday.

xx

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