Word of the Day Friday, April 02, 2010
slake
\SLAYK\ , verb;
1. To satisfy; to quench; to extinguish; as, to slake thirst.
2. To cause to lessen; to make less active or intense; to moderate; as, slaking his anger.
3. To cause (as lime) to heat and crumble by treatment with water.
intransitive verb:
1. To become slaked; to crumble or disintegrate, as lime.
She glared at him from across the desk.
"What Gloria?" Marvin snapped glaring back at her.
"You set this all up somehow! You ruined me!" her hands trembled with fury, clutching her black patent leather hand bag. "It was all some elaborate plan!"
He stared at her in disbelief, then smirked and pulled open his bottom desk drawer with his toe. "Do you drink bourbon?" he asked.
"No," she spat at him.
"Good, more for me," he replied filling a tall tumbler with the bottle.
"You didn't answer me!" she snapped.
"What can I say to that?!? I had some crazy elaborate plan to get my wife to leave me? My marriage, the only thing I have ever really cared about in entire life, is over! With no chance of reconciliation. Why yes, you raging cunt, I planned all that out just to screw you over!" he gasped drinking heavily from the tumbler of bourbon.
"We never had an affair!" she yelled at him, "How can she have proof of that!"
Marvin buried his face in his hands. "She says she has pictures….of something. My lawyer has seen them and he says they are damning."
"I never let you put your filthy hand on me!" she yelled again.
He stared at her. "My reputation is ruined. My life is falling apart. You have to fight the rumors!" now she was pleading with him.
"What, or you are going to blackmail me?" he asked bitterly. She looked stung for a moment. "You know, this never would have happened if you hadn't gotten greedy. $200,000! I should have just let you out my grandfather. That is what tipped her off. The funny business with the accounting. She kept track of all that you know." Marvin explained growing more and more animated.
"No, it was you insisting on meeting up at hotels. That is what gave the wrong impression. The gossip circles are tearing me apart. I have been blacklisted all across town," she went on ignoring everything he had said.
"Why don't you just come out with the truth? Tell everyone that you were blackmailing me, not fucking me." he said bluntly draining the last of the bourbon in the glass.
"I will not be accused of blackmail on top of this affair scandal," she retorted.
"Accused?" Marvin asked dryly.
"Let me tell you what you are going to do Marvin Cohen," she hissed standing up from her chair.
Marvin slammed the bourbon bottle down on his desk slaking the momentum she was gathering for her tirade.
"No! Let me tell you what you are going to do. You are going to take that $200,000 I gave you and you are going to go away. You are going to let me and my wife divorce, messily I might add, with my ex-wife taking me to the cleaners, I might add. And that will be the end of all of this," he said.
"Why the hell would you ever imagine that I would agree to that?" she asked letting out peals of laughter.
Marvin settled back in his chair ready to toss out his trump card.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Hugger-mugger
Word of the Day Thursday, April 01, 2010
hugger-mugger
\HUH-guhr-muh-guhr\ , noun;
1. A disorderly jumble; muddle; confusion.
2. Secrecy; concealment.
adjective:
1. Confused; muddled; disorderly.
2. Secret.
adverb:
1. In a muddle or confusion.
2. Secretly.
transitive verb:
1. To keep secret.
intransitive verb:
1. To act in a secretive manner.
Leonard paused fro the first time in what seemed like hours and wiped his forehead with the bandanna he had wrapped around his neck.
He surveyed the small room, the lack of supplies, the over-whelming number of people in need and for a moment felt like he was drowning, gasping for air.
"Just ten more minutes," he told himself for the fiftieth time that day, "Ten more minutes and then you can call it quits." He felt his heart rate slow back down.
When he had run into a foreign aid group two weeks prior at a little local restaurant he hadn't thought too much about what he was getting himself into when he had volunteered his time with them.
He had been in the country for a little over a month, he had seen enough sights and had traveled around enough that he felt that he was starting to get the hang of the travel bum lifestyle. He knew how to make his way through a corded area without loosing any of his stuff, find a place to sleep without getting swindled and how to find a decent meal.
In all honesty, he was looking for a new adventure while off on his adventure. So when this group of doctors had come into the restaurant, speaking English, he had immediately introduced himself. "Do you guys ever need extra volunteers?" he had asked.
The next day he had been initiated with the hugger-mugger of their little out-post clinic rushing the meager supplies they had from one crisis to the next, passing out water, and trying to ride out the roller coaster of emotion he found himself on.
Absentmindedly he put his hand in this left pocket and rolled the acorn nut between his fingers. I had become his worry stone, and for the first time in days he wondered what Elliot was up to. And at the same time couldn't imagine how he had ever been able to stand cubicle life in an insurance agency.
hugger-mugger
\HUH-guhr-muh-guhr\ , noun;
1. A disorderly jumble; muddle; confusion.
2. Secrecy; concealment.
adjective:
1. Confused; muddled; disorderly.
2. Secret.
adverb:
1. In a muddle or confusion.
2. Secretly.
transitive verb:
1. To keep secret.
intransitive verb:
1. To act in a secretive manner.
Leonard paused fro the first time in what seemed like hours and wiped his forehead with the bandanna he had wrapped around his neck.
He surveyed the small room, the lack of supplies, the over-whelming number of people in need and for a moment felt like he was drowning, gasping for air.
"Just ten more minutes," he told himself for the fiftieth time that day, "Ten more minutes and then you can call it quits." He felt his heart rate slow back down.
When he had run into a foreign aid group two weeks prior at a little local restaurant he hadn't thought too much about what he was getting himself into when he had volunteered his time with them.
He had been in the country for a little over a month, he had seen enough sights and had traveled around enough that he felt that he was starting to get the hang of the travel bum lifestyle. He knew how to make his way through a corded area without loosing any of his stuff, find a place to sleep without getting swindled and how to find a decent meal.
In all honesty, he was looking for a new adventure while off on his adventure. So when this group of doctors had come into the restaurant, speaking English, he had immediately introduced himself. "Do you guys ever need extra volunteers?" he had asked.
The next day he had been initiated with the hugger-mugger of their little out-post clinic rushing the meager supplies they had from one crisis to the next, passing out water, and trying to ride out the roller coaster of emotion he found himself on.
Absentmindedly he put his hand in this left pocket and rolled the acorn nut between his fingers. I had become his worry stone, and for the first time in days he wondered what Elliot was up to. And at the same time couldn't imagine how he had ever been able to stand cubicle life in an insurance agency.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Bedizen
Word of the Day Wednesday, March 31, 2010
bedizen
\bih-DY-zuhn\ , transitive verb;
1. To dress or adorn in gaudy manner.
It was one of the most extravagant events Evalina had ever been to. Certainly not gaudy, but clearly every single retail had been attended to with exquisite care. The large flower arrangements were breath-taking. The table settings elegant. The open bar impressive. A jazz quartet plinked away in the corner of the room at a conversationally friendly volume, and Evalina slowly made her way around the room enjoying the sweeping city skyline.
"Lina? Is that you?" a loud voice exclaimed behind her. Evalina turned at the sound of her childhood nickname, and was greeted with the dimpled cheeks of her cousin Bethany.
"Beth! I didn't know you were coming to this! How nice to see you," Evalina told her, trying to make her smile appear genuine.
Truth be told, Bethany was her least favorite cousin. Loud-mouthed and opinionated with no tact and very few personal boundaries, Bethany was, challenging.
"So, what do you think of this shindig?" she asked loudly.
"They did a beautiful job, I'm enjoying myself very much," Evalina replied helping herself to some of the hors d'oeuvres the wait staff was milling around with.
"Those look pretty, but they taste like horse crap," Bethany added loudly right as Evalina had positioned the cracker in front of her mouth. She took a bit anyway. Oh my God, she thought, this has a sliver of truffle on it. She briefly closed her eyes to savor the taste.
"I know what you mean. I had to close my eyes to choke that down too," Bethany remarked.
Evalina smiled falsely at her, "So, Bethany, where did you find that brilliantly bedizened dress?"
"What? No, this wasn't BeDazzled. I only WISH I had a BeDazzler! If I had I would have just gussied up one of my own dresses instead of spending so much money at Saks Fifth Avenue. I don't know where I'll wear this thing again, but you know, I didn't want to stand out or anything at the Big Party."
bedizen
\bih-DY-zuhn\ , transitive verb;
1. To dress or adorn in gaudy manner.
It was one of the most extravagant events Evalina had ever been to. Certainly not gaudy, but clearly every single retail had been attended to with exquisite care. The large flower arrangements were breath-taking. The table settings elegant. The open bar impressive. A jazz quartet plinked away in the corner of the room at a conversationally friendly volume, and Evalina slowly made her way around the room enjoying the sweeping city skyline.
"Lina? Is that you?" a loud voice exclaimed behind her. Evalina turned at the sound of her childhood nickname, and was greeted with the dimpled cheeks of her cousin Bethany.
"Beth! I didn't know you were coming to this! How nice to see you," Evalina told her, trying to make her smile appear genuine.
Truth be told, Bethany was her least favorite cousin. Loud-mouthed and opinionated with no tact and very few personal boundaries, Bethany was, challenging.
"So, what do you think of this shindig?" she asked loudly.
"They did a beautiful job, I'm enjoying myself very much," Evalina replied helping herself to some of the hors d'oeuvres the wait staff was milling around with.
"Those look pretty, but they taste like horse crap," Bethany added loudly right as Evalina had positioned the cracker in front of her mouth. She took a bit anyway. Oh my God, she thought, this has a sliver of truffle on it. She briefly closed her eyes to savor the taste.
"I know what you mean. I had to close my eyes to choke that down too," Bethany remarked.
Evalina smiled falsely at her, "So, Bethany, where did you find that brilliantly bedizened dress?"
"What? No, this wasn't BeDazzled. I only WISH I had a BeDazzler! If I had I would have just gussied up one of my own dresses instead of spending so much money at Saks Fifth Avenue. I don't know where I'll wear this thing again, but you know, I didn't want to stand out or anything at the Big Party."
Popinjay
Word of the Day Tuesday, March 30, 2010
popinjay
\POP-in-jay\ , noun;
1. A vain and talkative person.
"Fucking asshole, narcissist, popinjay, self-deluded, prick," she chanted under her breath. She wrung the steering whet pretending it was his neck.
"Piece of shit, rat-bastard," she continued.
The next morning, after she had had a night to cool off, she had been able to be more reasonable about the whole situation. It really wasn't his fault, she was shooting the messenger. Well, the arrogant messenger. But in her defense, she truly had been devastated to find out that Ricky Martin was gay.
popinjay
\POP-in-jay\ , noun;
1. A vain and talkative person.
"Fucking asshole, narcissist, popinjay, self-deluded, prick," she chanted under her breath. She wrung the steering whet pretending it was his neck.
"Piece of shit, rat-bastard," she continued.
The next morning, after she had had a night to cool off, she had been able to be more reasonable about the whole situation. It really wasn't his fault, she was shooting the messenger. Well, the arrogant messenger. But in her defense, she truly had been devastated to find out that Ricky Martin was gay.
Neophyte
Word of the Day Monday, March 29, 2010
neophyte
\NEE-uh-fyt\ , noun;
1. A new convert or proselyte.
2. A novice; a beginner in anything.
Elliot slid into an empty seat and fiddled with her pad of paper and pencil. She was always early to everything. A trait that drove almost everyone she knew a little bonkers.
Absentmindedly she started sketching a pile of boxes lying in the middle of the room. Slowly more students started to filter into the room. She looked up and smiled at them. They all looked so young and artsy. Fresh out of high school. Well, duh, she thought to herself. They probably are fresh out of high school.
She felt ancient at age 25. The ancient neophyte university student.
It suited her though.
Packing up her belongings from her mouther's house had been particularly satisfying. Her mother had been so excited when she had mentioned she was applying to colleges. No doubt she had been hoping Elliot would follow in her brother's footsteps and grace the family with another doctor. Her face had actually fallen in disappointment when Elliot had gleefully announced her acceptance to the Art Institute of Chicago.
"Mom, do you even realize how prestigious that school is?" she had asked incredulously. "Well, it isn't Juilliard now, is it? had been her mother's nasty reply.
Elliot continued doodling the boxes. The boy sitting next to her leaned over, "Are you working on the assignment?" he asked earnestly, a slight look of apprehension coloring his face.
"No, I was just the first person in here and didn't know what else to do with myself," she replied with a smile. He smiled back briefly.
Yes, Elliot thought, this was the right place for her. Africa would have been an excuse, following someone else's dream. She had floundered for years in the mucky expectations of other people's dreams. She was finally following the path she knew in her heart, just like the geese heading back north, was the one she should be following.
neophyte
\NEE-uh-fyt\ , noun;
1. A new convert or proselyte.
2. A novice; a beginner in anything.
Elliot slid into an empty seat and fiddled with her pad of paper and pencil. She was always early to everything. A trait that drove almost everyone she knew a little bonkers.
Absentmindedly she started sketching a pile of boxes lying in the middle of the room. Slowly more students started to filter into the room. She looked up and smiled at them. They all looked so young and artsy. Fresh out of high school. Well, duh, she thought to herself. They probably are fresh out of high school.
She felt ancient at age 25. The ancient neophyte university student.
It suited her though.
Packing up her belongings from her mouther's house had been particularly satisfying. Her mother had been so excited when she had mentioned she was applying to colleges. No doubt she had been hoping Elliot would follow in her brother's footsteps and grace the family with another doctor. Her face had actually fallen in disappointment when Elliot had gleefully announced her acceptance to the Art Institute of Chicago.
"Mom, do you even realize how prestigious that school is?" she had asked incredulously. "Well, it isn't Juilliard now, is it? had been her mother's nasty reply.
Elliot continued doodling the boxes. The boy sitting next to her leaned over, "Are you working on the assignment?" he asked earnestly, a slight look of apprehension coloring his face.
"No, I was just the first person in here and didn't know what else to do with myself," she replied with a smile. He smiled back briefly.
Yes, Elliot thought, this was the right place for her. Africa would have been an excuse, following someone else's dream. She had floundered for years in the mucky expectations of other people's dreams. She was finally following the path she knew in her heart, just like the geese heading back north, was the one she should be following.
Portentous
Word of the Day Sunday, March 28, 2010
portentous
\por-TEN-tus\ , adjective;
1. Foreboding; foreshadowing, especially foreshadowing ill; ominous.
2. Marvelous; prodigious; wonderful; as, a beast of portentous size.
3. Pompous.
She leaned on her shovel for a moment, in between moving piles of ravel, and looked up at the sky. Dark purple, portentous clouds were moving towards them from the southwest.
She wiped her brow and scooped up a shovel full of gravel as her dad came around the corner with the wheel barrow. They would just keep working until that rain cloud broke. Luckily it appeared it would happen any moment now.
portentous
\por-TEN-tus\ , adjective;
1. Foreboding; foreshadowing, especially foreshadowing ill; ominous.
2. Marvelous; prodigious; wonderful; as, a beast of portentous size.
3. Pompous.
She leaned on her shovel for a moment, in between moving piles of ravel, and looked up at the sky. Dark purple, portentous clouds were moving towards them from the southwest.
She wiped her brow and scooped up a shovel full of gravel as her dad came around the corner with the wheel barrow. They would just keep working until that rain cloud broke. Luckily it appeared it would happen any moment now.
Sylvan
Word of the Day Saturday, March 27, 2010
sylvan
\SIL-vuhn\ , adjective;
1. Of or pertaining to woods or forest regions.
2. Living or located in a wood or forest.
3. Abounding in forests or trees; wooded.
noun:
1. A fabled deity or spirit of the woods.
2. One that lives in or frequents the woods or forest; a rustic.
"You are aware of the abundance of female attention that is directed towards you, right?" she asked.
An easy smile broke out on his face, "Well, yeah," he replied.
"Good. I'd hate to see all that effort wasted on an oblivious male," she teased.
He looked at her for a long moment, "Does it bother you?" he asked.
"Yes and no," she answered glancing around the secluded, sylvan cottage they had rented for a weekend get-away. Their first weekend out of town together. "I mean, it represents all the other choices you have. And lord knows you have choices. I have found a piece of happiness with you and all that choice means that someday you might change your mind about spending time with me. But really that doesn't matter so much," she continued.
"Really? How can that not matter? The idea of losing a piece of happiness?" he asked, a frown mark deepening between his brows.
"Because, it exists, and it can't be changed. We already experienced that happiness and we can't undo it. So we can't loose it either. We can choose to make more happiness together, or we can choose to make happiness without one another," she said simply.
"I like that. That you can't loose any of your happiness. Although it seems rather Pollyanna-ish. Are you really able to choose happiness in all the moments of your life?" he asked seriously.
"If you are asking if I'm always happy, the answer is no. At one point in my life I had literally lost everything I cared about. That meant anything to me. That is a dark place to be. It took me a long time to decide to build my life back up around the beliefs that truly mattered to me."
"So, you try to enjoy every moment," he replied, his beautiful chin nestled into his palm.
"It is more than that. It is more like I try to have the moment I'm experiencing now be the most important thing. Not to let my uncertainly of the future, or the darkness of my past affect my enjoyment of today," she said.
"That sounds almost spiritual," he murmured.
She shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not. All I know is that sultry brunette that was at dinner the other night? The one with the double D's bursting out of her dress? She may entice you later, or she may not. I'm just not going to make myself unhappy worrying about it. Especially now worry about it enough to ruin the enjoyment of that roast duck and amazing bottle of wine that we had."
"Wow, double D's?" he asked grabbing her foot and pulling her across the sheets, "And you didn't even point them out to me? I would have gotten enjoyment out of that," he murmured.
"Eh, they were fake, totally not your style," she murmured back against his lips.
sylvan
\SIL-vuhn\ , adjective;
1. Of or pertaining to woods or forest regions.
2. Living or located in a wood or forest.
3. Abounding in forests or trees; wooded.
noun:
1. A fabled deity or spirit of the woods.
2. One that lives in or frequents the woods or forest; a rustic.
"You are aware of the abundance of female attention that is directed towards you, right?" she asked.
An easy smile broke out on his face, "Well, yeah," he replied.
"Good. I'd hate to see all that effort wasted on an oblivious male," she teased.
He looked at her for a long moment, "Does it bother you?" he asked.
"Yes and no," she answered glancing around the secluded, sylvan cottage they had rented for a weekend get-away. Their first weekend out of town together. "I mean, it represents all the other choices you have. And lord knows you have choices. I have found a piece of happiness with you and all that choice means that someday you might change your mind about spending time with me. But really that doesn't matter so much," she continued.
"Really? How can that not matter? The idea of losing a piece of happiness?" he asked, a frown mark deepening between his brows.
"Because, it exists, and it can't be changed. We already experienced that happiness and we can't undo it. So we can't loose it either. We can choose to make more happiness together, or we can choose to make happiness without one another," she said simply.
"I like that. That you can't loose any of your happiness. Although it seems rather Pollyanna-ish. Are you really able to choose happiness in all the moments of your life?" he asked seriously.
"If you are asking if I'm always happy, the answer is no. At one point in my life I had literally lost everything I cared about. That meant anything to me. That is a dark place to be. It took me a long time to decide to build my life back up around the beliefs that truly mattered to me."
"So, you try to enjoy every moment," he replied, his beautiful chin nestled into his palm.
"It is more than that. It is more like I try to have the moment I'm experiencing now be the most important thing. Not to let my uncertainly of the future, or the darkness of my past affect my enjoyment of today," she said.
"That sounds almost spiritual," he murmured.
She shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not. All I know is that sultry brunette that was at dinner the other night? The one with the double D's bursting out of her dress? She may entice you later, or she may not. I'm just not going to make myself unhappy worrying about it. Especially now worry about it enough to ruin the enjoyment of that roast duck and amazing bottle of wine that we had."
"Wow, double D's?" he asked grabbing her foot and pulling her across the sheets, "And you didn't even point them out to me? I would have gotten enjoyment out of that," he murmured.
"Eh, they were fake, totally not your style," she murmured back against his lips.
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