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.
Impecunious
Word of the Day Friday, March 26, 2010
impecunious
\im-pih-KYOO-nee-uhs\ , adjective;
1. Not having money; habitually without money; poor.
Joshua sighed and pulled his electric razor out. It was ridiculous, shaving twice a day, but it was necessary.
The women he wanted to date were already out of his league. The last thing he needed was to hand them an easy excuse to turn him down. Swarthy is a good look on a pirate. Not on a dentist.
Luckily, he would be the good looking one tonight. Ever since Jack had started dating Bridgette, Joshua had been left without a wing-man. Of course, with Jack around all he got was the left overs. Women flocked to Jack like ants to sugar. You could almost see their antenna quivering when he entered a room.
But never mind that, he thought, Jack was off the market, and he was going out with Emmett. The perpetually impecunious bachelor. Famously attractive and equally stingy. He was the perfect wing-man. All the best looking women were glancing their way, but inevitably Emmett would start diving up the bill, a major social faux pas with high maintenance women.
It was at that point that Joshua would swoop in, pick up the tab and his clean shaven, if a little weak, jawline would look a lot more attractive.
impecunious
\im-pih-KYOO-nee-uhs\ , adjective;
1. Not having money; habitually without money; poor.
Joshua sighed and pulled his electric razor out. It was ridiculous, shaving twice a day, but it was necessary.
The women he wanted to date were already out of his league. The last thing he needed was to hand them an easy excuse to turn him down. Swarthy is a good look on a pirate. Not on a dentist.
Luckily, he would be the good looking one tonight. Ever since Jack had started dating Bridgette, Joshua had been left without a wing-man. Of course, with Jack around all he got was the left overs. Women flocked to Jack like ants to sugar. You could almost see their antenna quivering when he entered a room.
But never mind that, he thought, Jack was off the market, and he was going out with Emmett. The perpetually impecunious bachelor. Famously attractive and equally stingy. He was the perfect wing-man. All the best looking women were glancing their way, but inevitably Emmett would start diving up the bill, a major social faux pas with high maintenance women.
It was at that point that Joshua would swoop in, pick up the tab and his clean shaven, if a little weak, jawline would look a lot more attractive.
Lucre
Sheesh...was I kidnapped by pirates asking for ransom? Did I fall into my outhouse only to be saved by the Do-gooder neighbor dog 8 days later? Was I in a Vicodin haze?
One will forever wonder.....
Word of the Day Thursday, March 25, 2010
lucre
\LOO-kuhr\ , noun;
1. Monetary gain; profit; riches; money; -- often in a bad sense.
He sat with his chin prompted up in his hand idly staring out the window. He appeared to be nothing more than a bored high school senior willing the remaining minutes of Biology class to melt away. He was actually spending down his new found lucre. The revenge plans were, of course, out. High school security was tighter than a nun's ass these days. Which left women or booze. Or perhaps, women and booze.
No one notice as he raised his eyebrows with self congratulatory smugness at his own brilliance.
One will forever wonder.....
Word of the Day Thursday, March 25, 2010
lucre
\LOO-kuhr\ , noun;
1. Monetary gain; profit; riches; money; -- often in a bad sense.
He sat with his chin prompted up in his hand idly staring out the window. He appeared to be nothing more than a bored high school senior willing the remaining minutes of Biology class to melt away. He was actually spending down his new found lucre. The revenge plans were, of course, out. High school security was tighter than a nun's ass these days. Which left women or booze. Or perhaps, women and booze.
No one notice as he raised his eyebrows with self congratulatory smugness at his own brilliance.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Another Day Older and Deeper In Debt....
Ok, so this weekend was a bust for story writing. But hey, look at the fire pit we built!After digging out a fair bit of the yard (and it was raining most of the time so it was actually more mud than dirt), shoveling a cubic yard of gravel around, and moving 280 retaining wall bricks around the yard (sadly, multiple times)...I just didn't have much in me at the end of the night.
Well, okay, just enough in me to make sure pizza, or burritos, or whatever it was that we were eating got into my mouth.
However, I am working on story catch up. All is not lost, and we'll have a hell of a party space this summer....or whenever it stops raining here in Portland.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Defenestrate
Word of the Day Wednesday, March 24, 2010
defenestrate
\dee-FEN-uh-strayt\ , transitive verb;
1. To throw out of a window.
They drove along in silence. The warm summer air blowing in through the rolled down windows of the pick-up truck. The air wasn't cool enough to be refreshing, but it still felt good.
Margaret put her arm outside the window and moved it up and down in the air streaming around them. Kate looked over at her, her cowboy hat tipped back, and smiled. The hills and highway stretched on endlessly in front of them, and even though they were speeding into the future at 75 miles per hour, it left lazy as if they were traveling at a leisurely pace.
It had seemed like a lifetime ago that Kate had reached over and had defenestrated her bag speeding along the highway at 90, yelling at her the entire time. She had demanded that Kate let her out to retrieve her belongings. Everything she had left in the world. Kate had slammed on the brakes, the pick-up fish-tailing as it screeched to a halt and told her that if she got out of the car she would be hitch hiking to Austin.
She had gotten out of the truck anyway, and had watcher her life speed off without her.
It had taken a good hour to collect all the items that had burst out of her bag. In which time Kate had cooled off and returned for her. Things would be better. She knew this because she did not have the imagination to fathom them any worse.
defenestrate
\dee-FEN-uh-strayt\ , transitive verb;
1. To throw out of a window.
They drove along in silence. The warm summer air blowing in through the rolled down windows of the pick-up truck. The air wasn't cool enough to be refreshing, but it still felt good.
Margaret put her arm outside the window and moved it up and down in the air streaming around them. Kate looked over at her, her cowboy hat tipped back, and smiled. The hills and highway stretched on endlessly in front of them, and even though they were speeding into the future at 75 miles per hour, it left lazy as if they were traveling at a leisurely pace.
It had seemed like a lifetime ago that Kate had reached over and had defenestrated her bag speeding along the highway at 90, yelling at her the entire time. She had demanded that Kate let her out to retrieve her belongings. Everything she had left in the world. Kate had slammed on the brakes, the pick-up fish-tailing as it screeched to a halt and told her that if she got out of the car she would be hitch hiking to Austin.
She had gotten out of the truck anyway, and had watcher her life speed off without her.
It had taken a good hour to collect all the items that had burst out of her bag. In which time Kate had cooled off and returned for her. Things would be better. She knew this because she did not have the imagination to fathom them any worse.
Exiguous
Word of the Day Tuesday, March 23, 2010
exiguous
\ig-ZIG-yoo-us\ , adjective;
1. Extremely scanty; meager.
Loretta clutched her handbag, took a deep breath, and forced herself to walk into the store. It was like being submerged into Barbie's lingerie drawer. Hot pink, lace, ruffles everywhere. She stiffly walked over to a rack of camisoles and started flipping through the hangers, not even looking at the clothing. She was acutely aware of how out of place she looked. Dressed head to toe in black, well over 45, and with a stout build. She looked like frisking Darth Vader.
Darth Vader in a teddy. She giggled at the mental image and uttered a silent Fuck You to the store. Darth Vader deserved to get laid too.
"Are you finding everything okay?" a perky voice chirped behind her. Loretta turned around and was dismayed to see a blond, beautiful, hugely breasted nineteen year old sales clerk.
"I'm looking for a night gown. Something special," she replied, mentally turning on her Light Saber.
"We can definitely find you something. Are you looking for cute? Sexy? I want him to ravish me? Or mount him and spank him?" the girl asked smiling brightly.
Loretta smiled. The Force was strong with this one.
In her mind's eye she had always imagined an outrageously exiguous piece of lingerie for this particular night
"What exactly is the difference between ravish and spank?" she asked coyly.
The girl smiled back, "Let me show you."
exiguous
\ig-ZIG-yoo-us\ , adjective;
1. Extremely scanty; meager.
Loretta clutched her handbag, took a deep breath, and forced herself to walk into the store. It was like being submerged into Barbie's lingerie drawer. Hot pink, lace, ruffles everywhere. She stiffly walked over to a rack of camisoles and started flipping through the hangers, not even looking at the clothing. She was acutely aware of how out of place she looked. Dressed head to toe in black, well over 45, and with a stout build. She looked like frisking Darth Vader.
Darth Vader in a teddy. She giggled at the mental image and uttered a silent Fuck You to the store. Darth Vader deserved to get laid too.
"Are you finding everything okay?" a perky voice chirped behind her. Loretta turned around and was dismayed to see a blond, beautiful, hugely breasted nineteen year old sales clerk.
"I'm looking for a night gown. Something special," she replied, mentally turning on her Light Saber.
"We can definitely find you something. Are you looking for cute? Sexy? I want him to ravish me? Or mount him and spank him?" the girl asked smiling brightly.
Loretta smiled. The Force was strong with this one.
In her mind's eye she had always imagined an outrageously exiguous piece of lingerie for this particular night
"What exactly is the difference between ravish and spank?" she asked coyly.
The girl smiled back, "Let me show you."
Cacophony
Word of the Day Monday, March 22, 2010
cacophony
\kuh-KAH-fuh-nee\ , noun;
1. Harsh or discordant sound; dissonance.
2. The use of harsh or discordant sounds in literary composition.
Elliot pulled the front door shut behind her and started to dig through her purse looking for her keys. Her mother always chastised her for being so disorganized. "Just put your keys in the same place every time you come home," she had snapped irritably one morning while Elliot rummaged around the house. Elliot had decided a better solution would be to ride the bus to work in lieu of bumming a ride off of her mother in the morning.
Her fingers finally brushed the key ring and she quickly turned the dead bolt with a click. Tossing her keys haphazardly back into her purse she looked up at the sun caressed morning sky. It was definitely transitioning into spring. The chilly mornings now mild and sweet smelling.
This thought was greeted by a cacophony of honking noises somewhere above her head. She looked up in curiosity. The same blue sky beamed gently down at her. Then, suddenly, she saw a dark wing and then several bodies appear as a very large flock of geese spilled through the air. The honking and calling overwhelming all other morning noises.
Elliot stood on the front porch, head upturned until they were all out of sight.
Finally. God, finally. Something in her brain clicked. It was time for her to leave and return to where she belonged too.
cacophony
\kuh-KAH-fuh-nee\ , noun;
1. Harsh or discordant sound; dissonance.
2. The use of harsh or discordant sounds in literary composition.
Elliot pulled the front door shut behind her and started to dig through her purse looking for her keys. Her mother always chastised her for being so disorganized. "Just put your keys in the same place every time you come home," she had snapped irritably one morning while Elliot rummaged around the house. Elliot had decided a better solution would be to ride the bus to work in lieu of bumming a ride off of her mother in the morning.
Her fingers finally brushed the key ring and she quickly turned the dead bolt with a click. Tossing her keys haphazardly back into her purse she looked up at the sun caressed morning sky. It was definitely transitioning into spring. The chilly mornings now mild and sweet smelling.
This thought was greeted by a cacophony of honking noises somewhere above her head. She looked up in curiosity. The same blue sky beamed gently down at her. Then, suddenly, she saw a dark wing and then several bodies appear as a very large flock of geese spilled through the air. The honking and calling overwhelming all other morning noises.
Elliot stood on the front porch, head upturned until they were all out of sight.
Finally. God, finally. Something in her brain clicked. It was time for her to leave and return to where she belonged too.
Fatidic
Word of the Day Sunday, March 21, 2010
fatidic
\fuh-TID-ik\ , adjective;
1. Of, relating to, or characterized by prophecy; prophetic.
Diane breathed in a deep sign hoping it would release the huge burden of weight off of her chest. She found that she had been sighing frequently these days. And for the record, it didn't help.
She had dumped her bags in the foyer of their old Seattle house, the one they had been renting under her sister's management for years, and had crawled into bed.
She had hated L.A. when they first moved there, she actually missed the rain and clouds. After a while she had started to see them as a protective layer of skin. A shield keeping her from being exposed and naked to the sun.
Well, she thought wryly, there is always the smog. Of course, she considered as an after thought, only in L.A. would you consider something as nasty and harmful as smog as protective.
L.A. had left her bare and now she was hiding.
She remembered the first luncheon she had in L.A. with the wife of one of Marvin's business associates. She had been nice enough to actually make an effort with Diane.
"It all comes down to money," she had told her simply, "It always comes down to money." At the time Diane had felt repulsed at this notion. She had been four months pregnant at the time and was completely in love with the idea of finding the best in everyone and everything. But that woman's comment, Diane couldn't even remember her name now, had been depressingly fatidic.
She had been shocked and then numbed by the superficiality, the shiny image hiding the lack of substance, and the piles and piles of money. Each bit of peeling away a layer of humanity and replacing it with Botox and laser surgery to tighten the loose places.
Now she was back in Seattle where the rain eroded her hardened exterior and let her feel vulnerable again. Vulnerable but protected. And she had her daffodils back. They had greeted her with their silent, humble dance as she had plowed her way through the front door.
fatidic
\fuh-TID-ik\ , adjective;
1. Of, relating to, or characterized by prophecy; prophetic.
Diane breathed in a deep sign hoping it would release the huge burden of weight off of her chest. She found that she had been sighing frequently these days. And for the record, it didn't help.
She had dumped her bags in the foyer of their old Seattle house, the one they had been renting under her sister's management for years, and had crawled into bed.
She had hated L.A. when they first moved there, she actually missed the rain and clouds. After a while she had started to see them as a protective layer of skin. A shield keeping her from being exposed and naked to the sun.
Well, she thought wryly, there is always the smog. Of course, she considered as an after thought, only in L.A. would you consider something as nasty and harmful as smog as protective.
L.A. had left her bare and now she was hiding.
She remembered the first luncheon she had in L.A. with the wife of one of Marvin's business associates. She had been nice enough to actually make an effort with Diane.
"It all comes down to money," she had told her simply, "It always comes down to money." At the time Diane had felt repulsed at this notion. She had been four months pregnant at the time and was completely in love with the idea of finding the best in everyone and everything. But that woman's comment, Diane couldn't even remember her name now, had been depressingly fatidic.
She had been shocked and then numbed by the superficiality, the shiny image hiding the lack of substance, and the piles and piles of money. Each bit of peeling away a layer of humanity and replacing it with Botox and laser surgery to tighten the loose places.
Now she was back in Seattle where the rain eroded her hardened exterior and let her feel vulnerable again. Vulnerable but protected. And she had her daffodils back. They had greeted her with their silent, humble dance as she had plowed her way through the front door.
Garrulous
Word of the Day Saturday, March 20, 2010
garrulous
\GAIR-uh-lus; GAIR-yuh-\ , adjective;
1. Talking much, especially about commonplace or trivial things; talkative.
2. Wordy.
I flashed by my bus pass at the driver and squeezed my way towards the back of the bus. The last row was empty so I slid into the seat by the window and flipped open my day planner. With my head buried in my to-do lists and back-yard sketches I barely noticed the man on the other side of the back row.
Ok, this isn't true. I did notice his jaunty news-boy cap.
"I'm on hold."
I look up at him and he points towards his cellphone.
"Ah," I replied, turning back toward my notebook.
"With the airlines. I got someone who doesn't speak English and she is very hard to understand," he went on.
"Yeah, especially in the back of the bus with the noisy engine," I said looking back up from my notebook, inwardly sighing.
"Yeah, I told her my flight info and she asked if I was taking Amtrak," he said raising one eyebrow dubiously.
"Ah," I said again nodding empathetically, but feeling resentful about running into Mr. Garrgulous on the bus. I only get so much time in my life, and I would never willingly engage in idle airplane chitchat with a bus stranger when I could remain caught up in my own daydreams.
Thankfully, he stands up and makes his way to the front of the bus to let the driver know his stop is coming up.
I settle back into the last couple minutes of my ride with sketches of my dream garden floating in my head.
garrulous
\GAIR-uh-lus; GAIR-yuh-\ , adjective;
1. Talking much, especially about commonplace or trivial things; talkative.
2. Wordy.
I flashed by my bus pass at the driver and squeezed my way towards the back of the bus. The last row was empty so I slid into the seat by the window and flipped open my day planner. With my head buried in my to-do lists and back-yard sketches I barely noticed the man on the other side of the back row.
Ok, this isn't true. I did notice his jaunty news-boy cap.
"I'm on hold."
I look up at him and he points towards his cellphone.
"Ah," I replied, turning back toward my notebook.
"With the airlines. I got someone who doesn't speak English and she is very hard to understand," he went on.
"Yeah, especially in the back of the bus with the noisy engine," I said looking back up from my notebook, inwardly sighing.
"Yeah, I told her my flight info and she asked if I was taking Amtrak," he said raising one eyebrow dubiously.
"Ah," I said again nodding empathetically, but feeling resentful about running into Mr. Garrgulous on the bus. I only get so much time in my life, and I would never willingly engage in idle airplane chitchat with a bus stranger when I could remain caught up in my own daydreams.
Thankfully, he stands up and makes his way to the front of the bus to let the driver know his stop is coming up.
I settle back into the last couple minutes of my ride with sketches of my dream garden floating in my head.
Matutinal
Word of the Day Friday, March 19, 2010
matutinal
\muh-TOOT-n-uhl\ , adjective;
1. Relating to or occurring in the morning; early.
She drove b the building. It was run down on the outside with very few lights on outside. A giant wooden dragon head sat outside on the front corner of the property. She parked her car and gingerly made her way around the building to the entrance. Several tall bushy haired men, seriously inhaling on their cigarettes, hunched over in the brisk matutinal air, passed by her. the patches and safety pins on their leather jackets, and the combats boots giving her pause and made her feel slightly out of place.
Inside the building a small, respectfully quiet crowd stood around the stage. Two men dressed in tattered burlap sack robes stood over two pieces of machinery. Her first thought was, "Huh, ti looks like the Sand People in Star Wars." The music was a scratchy, static-y, whiny noise. The two men seriously manipulated the dials on the machines silently.
Slowly a heart-beat emerged out of the noise-music. The beat of humanity still pulling the different corners of the crowd together.
matutinal
\muh-TOOT-n-uhl\ , adjective;
1. Relating to or occurring in the morning; early.
She drove b the building. It was run down on the outside with very few lights on outside. A giant wooden dragon head sat outside on the front corner of the property. She parked her car and gingerly made her way around the building to the entrance. Several tall bushy haired men, seriously inhaling on their cigarettes, hunched over in the brisk matutinal air, passed by her. the patches and safety pins on their leather jackets, and the combats boots giving her pause and made her feel slightly out of place.
Inside the building a small, respectfully quiet crowd stood around the stage. Two men dressed in tattered burlap sack robes stood over two pieces of machinery. Her first thought was, "Huh, ti looks like the Sand People in Star Wars." The music was a scratchy, static-y, whiny noise. The two men seriously manipulated the dials on the machines silently.
Slowly a heart-beat emerged out of the noise-music. The beat of humanity still pulling the different corners of the crowd together.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Cozen
Word of the Day Thursday, March 18, 2010
cozen
\KUZ-un\ , transitive verb;
1. To cheat; to defraud; to deceive, usually by petty tricks.
2. To obtain by deceit.
intransitive verb:
1. To act deceitfully.
It wasn't like she had tried to lie about it. It had been an unfortunate misunderstanding not a cozen act of betrayal. The thing was, she just hadn't been hit on by a man in a really long time. When he had asked her if she would like to get something to eat, and she had uncertainly babbled, "Um….okay…." she had envisioned the three of them out to dinner and was still mentally hung up on how awkward that would be.
Now, oh christ, now what had she gotten herself into? Why couldn't she just suck it up and tell him, "Um, oops. You know when I told you I was interested in dinner? Um, what I actually meant was I"m sort of married?"
Although that made her sound like an idiot, and she couldn't have the cute guy thinking she was an idiot.
cozen
\KUZ-un\ , transitive verb;
1. To cheat; to defraud; to deceive, usually by petty tricks.
2. To obtain by deceit.
intransitive verb:
1. To act deceitfully.
It wasn't like she had tried to lie about it. It had been an unfortunate misunderstanding not a cozen act of betrayal. The thing was, she just hadn't been hit on by a man in a really long time. When he had asked her if she would like to get something to eat, and she had uncertainly babbled, "Um….okay…." she had envisioned the three of them out to dinner and was still mentally hung up on how awkward that would be.
Now, oh christ, now what had she gotten herself into? Why couldn't she just suck it up and tell him, "Um, oops. You know when I told you I was interested in dinner? Um, what I actually meant was I"m sort of married?"
Although that made her sound like an idiot, and she couldn't have the cute guy thinking she was an idiot.
Potable
Word of the Day Wednesday, March 17, 2010
potable
\POH-tuh-buhl\ , adjective;
1. Fit to drink; suitable for drinking; drinkable.
noun:
1. A potable liquid; a beverage, especially an alcoholic beverage.
John wiped his brow again for the umpteenth time and forced himself to take another drink of the marginally potable coffee the secretary had offered him.
"I don't understand," he said again slowly, looking the very serious balding man in front of him in the eye.
"What do you not understand?" the man asked leerily just as tired and at his patience end as John felt.
"I don't understand what about this whole situation constitutes sexual harassment," his voice rising on the last word.
The man sighed deeply. "Mr. Farragut. Your son pinched a little girl inappropriately on the playground. The girl complained to her mother and there is now a sexual harassment complaint."
"But it was St. Patrick's Day! And the girl wasn't wearing green! And it was on the arm! And they are six! Isn't this just a case of kids being kids?" John burst out.
"Mr. Farragut. My personal opinion on this case is irrelevant. I'm just passing along the information and advising you about the next steps in this process. Although I would imagine it would be completely reasonable to work this issue out without any further legal proceedings. However, Ms. Schubert seems disinclined to cooperate," the man replied, his lips set in a thin, drawn line.
potable
\POH-tuh-buhl\ , adjective;
1. Fit to drink; suitable for drinking; drinkable.
noun:
1. A potable liquid; a beverage, especially an alcoholic beverage.
John wiped his brow again for the umpteenth time and forced himself to take another drink of the marginally potable coffee the secretary had offered him.
"I don't understand," he said again slowly, looking the very serious balding man in front of him in the eye.
"What do you not understand?" the man asked leerily just as tired and at his patience end as John felt.
"I don't understand what about this whole situation constitutes sexual harassment," his voice rising on the last word.
The man sighed deeply. "Mr. Farragut. Your son pinched a little girl inappropriately on the playground. The girl complained to her mother and there is now a sexual harassment complaint."
"But it was St. Patrick's Day! And the girl wasn't wearing green! And it was on the arm! And they are six! Isn't this just a case of kids being kids?" John burst out.
"Mr. Farragut. My personal opinion on this case is irrelevant. I'm just passing along the information and advising you about the next steps in this process. Although I would imagine it would be completely reasonable to work this issue out without any further legal proceedings. However, Ms. Schubert seems disinclined to cooperate," the man replied, his lips set in a thin, drawn line.
Hirsute
Word of the Day Tuesday, March 16, 2010
hirsute
\HUR-soot; HIR-soot; hur-SOOT; hir-SOOT\ , adjective;
1. Covered with hair; set with bristles; shaggy; hairy.
Joshua's real problem was hair. His quest for attaining uber coolness forever damned by his International Hirsute Club for Men membership.
He'd always thought it was cool that he had been the first guy in his class to sprout whiskers and chest hair, like it was a testament to his manliness. However, about the time Vivian Cox announced that instead of a Treasure Trail he had a treasure Super Highway he found out that the one characteristic that he thought made him manlier actually resulted in all sorts of urn-manly behavior.
Like shaving his chest.
If the International Hirsute Club for Men had a mascot, it would definitely be the Rogue Brewery guy, fist raised defiantly in revolt, clutching a pair of hair clippers.
hirsute
\HUR-soot; HIR-soot; hur-SOOT; hir-SOOT\ , adjective;
1. Covered with hair; set with bristles; shaggy; hairy.
Joshua's real problem was hair. His quest for attaining uber coolness forever damned by his International Hirsute Club for Men membership.
He'd always thought it was cool that he had been the first guy in his class to sprout whiskers and chest hair, like it was a testament to his manliness. However, about the time Vivian Cox announced that instead of a Treasure Trail he had a treasure Super Highway he found out that the one characteristic that he thought made him manlier actually resulted in all sorts of urn-manly behavior.
Like shaving his chest.
If the International Hirsute Club for Men had a mascot, it would definitely be the Rogue Brewery guy, fist raised defiantly in revolt, clutching a pair of hair clippers.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Gravitas
Don't worry ya'll....I have all my stories written, it just turns out I'm horrible at posting every day.
:::clapping hands:::
Ok, let's get this Story A DAY thing back on track people!
Word of the Day Monday, March 15, 2010
gravitas
\GRAV-uh-tahs\ , noun;
1. High seriousness (as in a person's bearing or in the treatment of a subject).
"How is it that you are even with this girl? She just doesn't seem like your type at all," Joshua said cradling his beer in front of him.
Jack shrugged, "I think she is very my type."
Joshua frowned.
Jack was one of those effortlessly cool people. His clothing, his hobbies, his home, his women. Everything was beautiful and chic, stream-lined and function driven like a purest minimalist, but elegant in a way that made it all seem luxurious. With a twist of 70's quirk nostalgia, of course.
If Joshua could be anyone, he would have chosen Jack.
Well, after Steve McQueen, obviously.
But part of what made Jack so effortlessly cool was the fact that it was all, well, effortless. He didn't think about any of it. Whereas Joshua was a studied cool. Jack drank his favorite microbrew because he liked the taste and drank it at this particular pub because he liked that people could bring their dogs with them to drink and he liked the sausages. Joshua drank the beer that he though would make him look sophisticated and worldly, with just a smidge of elitism, and he drank at this particular bar because the Hipsters that were always hanging around were the It group at the moment.
Jack genuinely enjoyed Joshua. He was a good guy at heart when he could forget himself a little bit. One of the good points about Josh's relentless pursuit of being cool was that he kept up on world events so he could hit all the talking points. Jack found that he was good for interesting conversation.
"But all the other girls you have dated have been so much more…polished,' Joshua continued.
"Yeah, that's true, Bridgette is a lot more earthy. But that is what is the most appealing thing about her. The things that she has in her life she genuinely cares about. She doesn't keep anything that doesn't have importance to her. She strips out the non-essential," Jack explained.
When he had first met her, this silly blind date, he had been shattered by how strong of an urge he had felt to open up to her. He had found himself inviting her up to his apartment and making her mulled wine in his grandfather's old chipped mug. Something he had never done for anyone.
He remembered that the look she had on her face that night was the same look she had the night of their first Valentine's Day together. She had scoured through a dozen antique stores buying old silver baby spoons, and being a metal artist, she had sculpted a little baby bird perched on the edge of a nest getting ready to launch himself into flight for the first time as a gift for him.
She had been searching his face the entire time he opened the gift, and when he felt his eyes tear up slightly, they both just knew that the sculpture embodied the two of them. A nascent connection leaping towards the unknown with nothing other than instinct and the belief that open, unlimited sky was where they belonged as a rationale.
"Everything about her is genuine. Her personality. Her kindness. Her art. All those other girls were just the same Gustav Klimt painting over and over," Jack continued, the gravitas of his voice causing Joshua to look up at him sharply.
Joshua secretly wondered if Jack was talking about the tacky bird statue that had appeared in his apartment a couple weeks ago. Obviously it was something Bridgette had brought over. He still couldn't understand what was so special about this hippie girl. But he also made the mental note not to bother with Gustav Klimt anymore.
:::clapping hands:::
Ok, let's get this Story A DAY thing back on track people!
Word of the Day Monday, March 15, 2010
gravitas
\GRAV-uh-tahs\ , noun;
1. High seriousness (as in a person's bearing or in the treatment of a subject).
"How is it that you are even with this girl? She just doesn't seem like your type at all," Joshua said cradling his beer in front of him.
Jack shrugged, "I think she is very my type."
Joshua frowned.
Jack was one of those effortlessly cool people. His clothing, his hobbies, his home, his women. Everything was beautiful and chic, stream-lined and function driven like a purest minimalist, but elegant in a way that made it all seem luxurious. With a twist of 70's quirk nostalgia, of course.
If Joshua could be anyone, he would have chosen Jack.
Well, after Steve McQueen, obviously.
But part of what made Jack so effortlessly cool was the fact that it was all, well, effortless. He didn't think about any of it. Whereas Joshua was a studied cool. Jack drank his favorite microbrew because he liked the taste and drank it at this particular pub because he liked that people could bring their dogs with them to drink and he liked the sausages. Joshua drank the beer that he though would make him look sophisticated and worldly, with just a smidge of elitism, and he drank at this particular bar because the Hipsters that were always hanging around were the It group at the moment.
Jack genuinely enjoyed Joshua. He was a good guy at heart when he could forget himself a little bit. One of the good points about Josh's relentless pursuit of being cool was that he kept up on world events so he could hit all the talking points. Jack found that he was good for interesting conversation.
"But all the other girls you have dated have been so much more…polished,' Joshua continued.
"Yeah, that's true, Bridgette is a lot more earthy. But that is what is the most appealing thing about her. The things that she has in her life she genuinely cares about. She doesn't keep anything that doesn't have importance to her. She strips out the non-essential," Jack explained.
When he had first met her, this silly blind date, he had been shattered by how strong of an urge he had felt to open up to her. He had found himself inviting her up to his apartment and making her mulled wine in his grandfather's old chipped mug. Something he had never done for anyone.
He remembered that the look she had on her face that night was the same look she had the night of their first Valentine's Day together. She had scoured through a dozen antique stores buying old silver baby spoons, and being a metal artist, she had sculpted a little baby bird perched on the edge of a nest getting ready to launch himself into flight for the first time as a gift for him.
She had been searching his face the entire time he opened the gift, and when he felt his eyes tear up slightly, they both just knew that the sculpture embodied the two of them. A nascent connection leaping towards the unknown with nothing other than instinct and the belief that open, unlimited sky was where they belonged as a rationale.
"Everything about her is genuine. Her personality. Her kindness. Her art. All those other girls were just the same Gustav Klimt painting over and over," Jack continued, the gravitas of his voice causing Joshua to look up at him sharply.
Joshua secretly wondered if Jack was talking about the tacky bird statue that had appeared in his apartment a couple weeks ago. Obviously it was something Bridgette had brought over. He still couldn't understand what was so special about this hippie girl. But he also made the mental note not to bother with Gustav Klimt anymore.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Fulminate
Word of the Day Sunday, March 14, 2010
fulminate
\FUL-muh-nayt\ , intransitive verb;
1. To issue or utter verbal attacks or censures authoritatively or menacingly.
2. To explode; to detonate.
transitive verb:
1. To utter or send out with denunciations or censures.
2. To cause to explode.
They waited for the old lady with the scruffy little dog to pass by the green park bench they were sitting on before they continued their mutual fulmination.
It was silly really, clearly Johanna was correct in arguing that Pi Day was the most important holiday of the year. Bob definitely needed to take his Christmas tidings and shove them up his ass.
fulminate
\FUL-muh-nayt\ , intransitive verb;
1. To issue or utter verbal attacks or censures authoritatively or menacingly.
2. To explode; to detonate.
transitive verb:
1. To utter or send out with denunciations or censures.
2. To cause to explode.
They waited for the old lady with the scruffy little dog to pass by the green park bench they were sitting on before they continued their mutual fulmination.
It was silly really, clearly Johanna was correct in arguing that Pi Day was the most important holiday of the year. Bob definitely needed to take his Christmas tidings and shove them up his ass.
Erudite
Word of the Day Saturday, March 13, 2010
erudite
\AIR-yuh-dyt; -uh-dyt\ , adjective;
1. Characterized by extensive reading or knowledge; learned.
She had been immensely intimidated by the large library he kept just off of the living room. Floor to ceiling book shelves lined every wall, a large sunken leather chair the only piece of furniture in the room other than the reading lamp.
"Is this a collection? Or do you read all of these?" she asked gesturing towards all the books.
He glanced towards where she was pointing, "Oh, all the books? I suppose you can call it a collection, I don't really like getting rid of books. Maybe obsession would be a better word than collection," he said with a smile, "But I have read almost everything in there. I have a stack over here that I'm waiting to get to."
She stared again at the room full of books.
"What do you do that you have time to read all of those?" she asked.
He frowned slightly, "Well, some of them, like this one," he said walking over to one shelf full of worn paperback books, the spines heavily creased, "These are science fiction from when I was a kid. So, I guess when you consider that this represents a good 30 years worth of reading, it actually seems kind of small. Don't you think?"
She smiled, "Yeah, I guess when you put it that way it makes sense."
She gently brushed her hand against a shelf of books, a pang of jealously at his effortless eruditeness. She had felt out of her league all night long, like she was swimming in deep, choppy water and could barely keep her head from going under.
"Do you have any books on fashion?" she asked immediately regretting the request.
To her surprise his eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "It is sort of a photography book, but there are a lot of fashion icons used as the subjects. But really, in a lot of ways the clothing makes as much of an impact in the photo as the faces of the model," he said plucking a large hardcover book off of the shelf and sitting down in the leather chair.
She relaxed slightly deciding that maybe the best part about this guy was the fact that he kept trying to bridge the gaps between them.
erudite
\AIR-yuh-dyt; -uh-dyt\ , adjective;
1. Characterized by extensive reading or knowledge; learned.
She had been immensely intimidated by the large library he kept just off of the living room. Floor to ceiling book shelves lined every wall, a large sunken leather chair the only piece of furniture in the room other than the reading lamp.
"Is this a collection? Or do you read all of these?" she asked gesturing towards all the books.
He glanced towards where she was pointing, "Oh, all the books? I suppose you can call it a collection, I don't really like getting rid of books. Maybe obsession would be a better word than collection," he said with a smile, "But I have read almost everything in there. I have a stack over here that I'm waiting to get to."
She stared again at the room full of books.
"What do you do that you have time to read all of those?" she asked.
He frowned slightly, "Well, some of them, like this one," he said walking over to one shelf full of worn paperback books, the spines heavily creased, "These are science fiction from when I was a kid. So, I guess when you consider that this represents a good 30 years worth of reading, it actually seems kind of small. Don't you think?"
She smiled, "Yeah, I guess when you put it that way it makes sense."
She gently brushed her hand against a shelf of books, a pang of jealously at his effortless eruditeness. She had felt out of her league all night long, like she was swimming in deep, choppy water and could barely keep her head from going under.
"Do you have any books on fashion?" she asked immediately regretting the request.
To her surprise his eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "It is sort of a photography book, but there are a lot of fashion icons used as the subjects. But really, in a lot of ways the clothing makes as much of an impact in the photo as the faces of the model," he said plucking a large hardcover book off of the shelf and sitting down in the leather chair.
She relaxed slightly deciding that maybe the best part about this guy was the fact that he kept trying to bridge the gaps between them.
Solecism
Word of the Day Friday, March 12, 2010
solecism
\SOL-uh-siz-uhm\ , noun;
1. A nonstandard usage or grammatical construction; also, a minor blunder in speech.
2. A breach of good manners or etiquette.
3. Any inconsistency, mistake, or impropriety.
Diane glared at him from across the table.
He averted her gaze and refilled his glass of wine.
After several heavy moments of silence he carefully set down his wine glass, "What?" he asked, exasperated. She had made the dinner reservation for that night, leaving the information about where he was expected to show up with his secretary that afternoon. Now, she had barely said two sentences to him once he had joined her at the table.
She had turned a frosty cheek to his kiss.
He, in turn, had quickly downed two glasses of wine, and was no longer very sober.
"You are a piece of shit," she replied curtly, her lips pursing.
Marvin smirked at her, "Is that all?" he asked, and took another sip of wine.
She stared at him, "I know," she replied lowering her voice.
He looked up at her, "Know what?"
"About her," she hissed leaning across the table.
He leaned back in his chair away from his wife's face, "Blah, blah, blah. I already discussed this with you. She is blackmailing me, remember? We talked about it. I'm paying her a shit load of money discretely. It is depressing the fuck out of me," he said his voice sounding very tired.
"You lied to me," Diane whispered.
"I lied to you! You are absurd!" he scoffed picking his glass of wine back up.
"You are fucking her," she hissed back at him.
He coughed as a lug of wine shot up his nose. People turned and stared as he coughed heavily. "You are being ridiculous, I made the money exchanges at the hotels like we discussed. I'm too well known in this city to meet up with her in public. We talked about this!" he said hoarsely, still trying to catch his breath.
"I have pictures you son of a bitch!" she yelled at him.
Everything in the restaurant drew to an abrupt halt, all eyes swiveling towards Diane.
"Diane, stop," he hissed.
"No! I will not stop, you miserable fuck! We are over! And the best part is that the last laugh will be on you because while you were spending all your time with your whore I was taking over your business!" she continued to yell.
His neck was crawling with all the eyes in the restaurant glued onto him waiting for what he would say. He could almost hear the gossip columnists scribbling away. "I love you," he said.
She stood up and tossed the last of her glass of wine into his face, turned on her heel, and swept out of the restaurant. The crowd had gasped at this final humiliating solecism and watched to see what the famous Marvin Cohen would do next.
He slowly pushed his chair back, left a pile of bills on the table, and gently lifted the snow white trench coat off of the back of Diane's chair as he made his way outside to catch a cab.
solecism
\SOL-uh-siz-uhm\ , noun;
1. A nonstandard usage or grammatical construction; also, a minor blunder in speech.
2. A breach of good manners or etiquette.
3. Any inconsistency, mistake, or impropriety.
Diane glared at him from across the table.
He averted her gaze and refilled his glass of wine.
After several heavy moments of silence he carefully set down his wine glass, "What?" he asked, exasperated. She had made the dinner reservation for that night, leaving the information about where he was expected to show up with his secretary that afternoon. Now, she had barely said two sentences to him once he had joined her at the table.
She had turned a frosty cheek to his kiss.
He, in turn, had quickly downed two glasses of wine, and was no longer very sober.
"You are a piece of shit," she replied curtly, her lips pursing.
Marvin smirked at her, "Is that all?" he asked, and took another sip of wine.
She stared at him, "I know," she replied lowering her voice.
He looked up at her, "Know what?"
"About her," she hissed leaning across the table.
He leaned back in his chair away from his wife's face, "Blah, blah, blah. I already discussed this with you. She is blackmailing me, remember? We talked about it. I'm paying her a shit load of money discretely. It is depressing the fuck out of me," he said his voice sounding very tired.
"You lied to me," Diane whispered.
"I lied to you! You are absurd!" he scoffed picking his glass of wine back up.
"You are fucking her," she hissed back at him.
He coughed as a lug of wine shot up his nose. People turned and stared as he coughed heavily. "You are being ridiculous, I made the money exchanges at the hotels like we discussed. I'm too well known in this city to meet up with her in public. We talked about this!" he said hoarsely, still trying to catch his breath.
"I have pictures you son of a bitch!" she yelled at him.
Everything in the restaurant drew to an abrupt halt, all eyes swiveling towards Diane.
"Diane, stop," he hissed.
"No! I will not stop, you miserable fuck! We are over! And the best part is that the last laugh will be on you because while you were spending all your time with your whore I was taking over your business!" she continued to yell.
His neck was crawling with all the eyes in the restaurant glued onto him waiting for what he would say. He could almost hear the gossip columnists scribbling away. "I love you," he said.
She stood up and tossed the last of her glass of wine into his face, turned on her heel, and swept out of the restaurant. The crowd had gasped at this final humiliating solecism and watched to see what the famous Marvin Cohen would do next.
He slowly pushed his chair back, left a pile of bills on the table, and gently lifted the snow white trench coat off of the back of Diane's chair as he made his way outside to catch a cab.
Salient
Word of the Day Thursday, March 11, 2010
salient
\SAY-lee-unt; SAYL-yunt\ , adjective;
1. Shooting out or up; projecting.
2. Forcing itself on the attention; prominent; conspicuous; noticeable.
3. Leaping; springing; jumping.
noun:
1. An outwardly projecting part of a fortification, trench system, or line of defense.
2. A projecting angle or part.
Eric huddled in his hut with his head buried in his arms. All he knew was that he had been captured originally six months prior, and they hadn't killed him.
He kept expecting to be liquidated, like all the rest of the humans they came across, but they didn't. He had begged and pleaded, yelling from inside his cage until he had lost his voice. Then he had lost consciousness and had woke up outside, in the same eery rock formation filled forest where they had found him.
He didn't remember how he had escaped, but he must have. He had quickly melted into the landscape hiding as best as he could. He soon ran into all the same obstacles that he had been faced with before, where to find shelter, where to find food and water, and how to keep himself undetected and safe from all the horrifying creatures that were out there with him in the rock forest.
It seemed like every day there were new challenges to every miniscule bit of progress that he had made the day before. Part of his shelter had collapsed or washed away, or his food supply missing. He remembered spending four straight days devising a contraption to collect a bunch of edible fruits that were hanging in an salient, but out of reach, branch of a tree, after a swarm of ants had devoured a couple of fig-like fruits he had saved.
All the while trying to keep on the run from the aliens. Although it seemed like they had lost the furor with which they were pursuing him. Days would go by and all he would hear would be a group of them marching past through the bushes hissing and clicking at one another.
However, the thing that he found the most disconcerting was the fact that the panther-like creatures that had stalked him the entire time he had been on the run previously had not made an appearance yet. They were incredibly proficient predators, but not this stealthy.
He couldn't quite put his finger on what was not right about his current situation, even though everything about it was not right. All he knew was that before he had been out right terrified. This time he was uneasy, and out right terrified.
salient
\SAY-lee-unt; SAYL-yunt\ , adjective;
1. Shooting out or up; projecting.
2. Forcing itself on the attention; prominent; conspicuous; noticeable.
3. Leaping; springing; jumping.
noun:
1. An outwardly projecting part of a fortification, trench system, or line of defense.
2. A projecting angle or part.
Eric huddled in his hut with his head buried in his arms. All he knew was that he had been captured originally six months prior, and they hadn't killed him.
He kept expecting to be liquidated, like all the rest of the humans they came across, but they didn't. He had begged and pleaded, yelling from inside his cage until he had lost his voice. Then he had lost consciousness and had woke up outside, in the same eery rock formation filled forest where they had found him.
He didn't remember how he had escaped, but he must have. He had quickly melted into the landscape hiding as best as he could. He soon ran into all the same obstacles that he had been faced with before, where to find shelter, where to find food and water, and how to keep himself undetected and safe from all the horrifying creatures that were out there with him in the rock forest.
It seemed like every day there were new challenges to every miniscule bit of progress that he had made the day before. Part of his shelter had collapsed or washed away, or his food supply missing. He remembered spending four straight days devising a contraption to collect a bunch of edible fruits that were hanging in an salient, but out of reach, branch of a tree, after a swarm of ants had devoured a couple of fig-like fruits he had saved.
All the while trying to keep on the run from the aliens. Although it seemed like they had lost the furor with which they were pursuing him. Days would go by and all he would hear would be a group of them marching past through the bushes hissing and clicking at one another.
However, the thing that he found the most disconcerting was the fact that the panther-like creatures that had stalked him the entire time he had been on the run previously had not made an appearance yet. They were incredibly proficient predators, but not this stealthy.
He couldn't quite put his finger on what was not right about his current situation, even though everything about it was not right. All he knew was that before he had been out right terrified. This time he was uneasy, and out right terrified.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Phantasmagoria
Word of the Day Wednesday, March 10, 2010
phantasmagoria
\fan-taz-muh-GOR-ee-uh\ , noun;
1. A shifting series or succession of things seen or imagined, as in a dream.
2. Any constantly changing scene.
The phantasmagoria of faces blurred together into one steady stream. Like watching a video camera on fast-forward. A face would stop in front of him, move its mouth as if speaking to him, although he would devour hear any of the words coming out of their mouths. Some of them wore masks, some wore hats. Some were pretty young women, other serious middle aged men. The only thing that remained the same was the back drop behind them.
The lights would dim around him, although they never went completely out, on some sort of regular schedule. But he had no idea what sort of time frame all this activity happen within. There was no clock visible against his backdrop.
Once or twice he thought his father's face slide past him. Which was odd because his father lived across the country in Ohio and had never been able to conquer his fear of flying to make it out for a visit. His mouth seemed to tremble and his eyes were very moist.
It took a long time for it to occur to him that it was odd that the scenery in front of his eyes never changed, and then slowly, the slightly buoyant memories of a silver car appearing suddenly started to rise and coalesce on the tip of his brain.
phantasmagoria
\fan-taz-muh-GOR-ee-uh\ , noun;
1. A shifting series or succession of things seen or imagined, as in a dream.
2. Any constantly changing scene.
The phantasmagoria of faces blurred together into one steady stream. Like watching a video camera on fast-forward. A face would stop in front of him, move its mouth as if speaking to him, although he would devour hear any of the words coming out of their mouths. Some of them wore masks, some wore hats. Some were pretty young women, other serious middle aged men. The only thing that remained the same was the back drop behind them.
The lights would dim around him, although they never went completely out, on some sort of regular schedule. But he had no idea what sort of time frame all this activity happen within. There was no clock visible against his backdrop.
Once or twice he thought his father's face slide past him. Which was odd because his father lived across the country in Ohio and had never been able to conquer his fear of flying to make it out for a visit. His mouth seemed to tremble and his eyes were very moist.
It took a long time for it to occur to him that it was odd that the scenery in front of his eyes never changed, and then slowly, the slightly buoyant memories of a silver car appearing suddenly started to rise and coalesce on the tip of his brain.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Sachet
Sheesh! What a break! Don't worry.....I didn't forget about you =)
Word of the Day Tuesday, March 09, 2010
sachet
\sa-SHEY\ , noun;
1. A small bag, case, or pad containing perfuming powder or the like, placed among handkerchiefs, etc., to impart a pleasant scent.
2. Also, sachet powder, the powder contained in such a case.
She slipped into the master bedroom and listened carefully for the signature noises that her parents made around the house. Her mother was singing, loudly and off-key, in the kitchen while washing the dishes, and her father was playing computer games, the sounds of sword fighting and stilted narration coming from the family room.
She silently moved across the carpeted floor over to the chest of drawers. She slid her hand lightly over the dark, smooth wood stopping on top of the cool silver nob. She fondled the elegant pull briefly admiring the comforting weight of it in her hand pleased with its aesthetics.
Silently she pulled the drawer open, lifting slightly to avoid any squeaking of the wood. Once open, the light floral scent from the sachet, buried at the bottom of the drawer, wafted to her nose. She leaned down and inhaled the scent. It smelled of her mother, of being a woman, of mature adultness, and of feminine beauty. "I got this as a wedding gift," her mother had mused, holding the green satin sack lined with ivory lace and delicate purple trimming gently in one hand.
She pushed the slips and lace aside until she found the little sachet and gently squeezed its sides. The potpourri crunching slightly under her fingers. As her mother continued to sing downstairs in the kitchen she mentally filed away this very important signature of womanhood.
Word of the Day Tuesday, March 09, 2010
sachet
\sa-SHEY\ , noun;
1. A small bag, case, or pad containing perfuming powder or the like, placed among handkerchiefs, etc., to impart a pleasant scent.
2. Also, sachet powder, the powder contained in such a case.
She slipped into the master bedroom and listened carefully for the signature noises that her parents made around the house. Her mother was singing, loudly and off-key, in the kitchen while washing the dishes, and her father was playing computer games, the sounds of sword fighting and stilted narration coming from the family room.
She silently moved across the carpeted floor over to the chest of drawers. She slid her hand lightly over the dark, smooth wood stopping on top of the cool silver nob. She fondled the elegant pull briefly admiring the comforting weight of it in her hand pleased with its aesthetics.
Silently she pulled the drawer open, lifting slightly to avoid any squeaking of the wood. Once open, the light floral scent from the sachet, buried at the bottom of the drawer, wafted to her nose. She leaned down and inhaled the scent. It smelled of her mother, of being a woman, of mature adultness, and of feminine beauty. "I got this as a wedding gift," her mother had mused, holding the green satin sack lined with ivory lace and delicate purple trimming gently in one hand.
She pushed the slips and lace aside until she found the little sachet and gently squeezed its sides. The potpourri crunching slightly under her fingers. As her mother continued to sing downstairs in the kitchen she mentally filed away this very important signature of womanhood.
Languor
Word of the Day Monday, March 08, 2010
languor
\LANG-guhr; LANG-uhr\ , noun;
1. Mental or physical weariness or fatigue.
2. Listless indolence, especially the indolence of one who is satiated by a life of luxury or pleasure.
3. A heaviness or oppressive stillness of the air.
He couldn't get over how this place seemed to embody the most extreme contradictions.
The desperate poverty in a land so abundantly endowed with natural resources. The dry, sun scorched plains stretching as far as the eye could see in one brown monotonous stretch, offset by the most vivid sun rises and sunsets of his life; colors only imagined on God's palette. The slow, languorous smiles that broke like gentle waves across the faces of the local town folk as they gathered and told stories. The same smiles that were shattered against the backdrop of the most achingly inhuman suffering he had ever witnessed.
Yet, the whole place was teeming with life, like a coiled spring waiting to be unleashed. He had never felt so alive, as if the atoms that he was made up of were vibrating at a different frequency since he had stepped off of that airplane.
Maybe it was better that she hadn't come with him. He had been crushingly disappointed, but he already felt like a different person from the guy who had brushed tears away as he made his way through security. His growth was just like the life all around him, unlimited potential waiting to be unleashed. Would all that even have been possible with a part of his past there to remind him of who he was destroying in his metamorphosis? He wasn't sure.
He rolled the acorn between his thumb and finger inside his pocket and thought the African sky was the most perfect giant canvas he'd ever seen.
languor
\LANG-guhr; LANG-uhr\ , noun;
1. Mental or physical weariness or fatigue.
2. Listless indolence, especially the indolence of one who is satiated by a life of luxury or pleasure.
3. A heaviness or oppressive stillness of the air.
He couldn't get over how this place seemed to embody the most extreme contradictions.
The desperate poverty in a land so abundantly endowed with natural resources. The dry, sun scorched plains stretching as far as the eye could see in one brown monotonous stretch, offset by the most vivid sun rises and sunsets of his life; colors only imagined on God's palette. The slow, languorous smiles that broke like gentle waves across the faces of the local town folk as they gathered and told stories. The same smiles that were shattered against the backdrop of the most achingly inhuman suffering he had ever witnessed.
Yet, the whole place was teeming with life, like a coiled spring waiting to be unleashed. He had never felt so alive, as if the atoms that he was made up of were vibrating at a different frequency since he had stepped off of that airplane.
Maybe it was better that she hadn't come with him. He had been crushingly disappointed, but he already felt like a different person from the guy who had brushed tears away as he made his way through security. His growth was just like the life all around him, unlimited potential waiting to be unleashed. Would all that even have been possible with a part of his past there to remind him of who he was destroying in his metamorphosis? He wasn't sure.
He rolled the acorn between his thumb and finger inside his pocket and thought the African sky was the most perfect giant canvas he'd ever seen.
Inveterate
Word of the Day Sunday, March 07, 2010
inveterate
\in-VET-uhr-it\ , adjective;
1. Firmly established by long persistence; deep-rooted; of long standing.
2. Fixed in habit by long persistence; confirmed; habitual.
She sat as quietly as she could and summoned every ounce of will power she could conjure not to swing her legs as they dangled from the pew a good foot above the floor.
The preacher droned on and on, the only other sound the rustling of hymn books and the occasional shushing of mothers quieting their children.
The sunlight slid through the stained glass windows spilling color over the congregation. She studied the red and blue light on the top of Mr. Danielson's bald head and his fat wife's neck, and thought about how beautiful they looked having been splashed with God's rainbow. "The human race sure would be beautiful if God had made the sky a stained glass window," she thought silently.
In the midst of her rainbow colored day dreams she had started swinging her legs again, although the slightest movement from her grandmother, a gesture so inveterate within both of them, brought her leg to a sudden halt.
She had always liked going to church, the white noise of the preacher giving her the chance to have an hour within her own thoughts undisturbed. Of course, she never understood what the adults were talking about when they praised or disagreed with what the preacher was saying. She had remembered her surprise the first time she learned that people actually came to church for the sermon and not for rose colored view of mankind.
inveterate
\in-VET-uhr-it\ , adjective;
1. Firmly established by long persistence; deep-rooted; of long standing.
2. Fixed in habit by long persistence; confirmed; habitual.
She sat as quietly as she could and summoned every ounce of will power she could conjure not to swing her legs as they dangled from the pew a good foot above the floor.
The preacher droned on and on, the only other sound the rustling of hymn books and the occasional shushing of mothers quieting their children.
The sunlight slid through the stained glass windows spilling color over the congregation. She studied the red and blue light on the top of Mr. Danielson's bald head and his fat wife's neck, and thought about how beautiful they looked having been splashed with God's rainbow. "The human race sure would be beautiful if God had made the sky a stained glass window," she thought silently.
In the midst of her rainbow colored day dreams she had started swinging her legs again, although the slightest movement from her grandmother, a gesture so inveterate within both of them, brought her leg to a sudden halt.
She had always liked going to church, the white noise of the preacher giving her the chance to have an hour within her own thoughts undisturbed. Of course, she never understood what the adults were talking about when they praised or disagreed with what the preacher was saying. She had remembered her surprise the first time she learned that people actually came to church for the sermon and not for rose colored view of mankind.
Masticate
Word of the Day Saturday, March 06, 2010
masticate
\MAS-tih-kayt\ , transitive verb;
1. To grind or crush with or as if with the teeth in preparation for swallowing and digestion; to chew; as, "to masticate food."
2. To crush or knead (rubber, for example) into a pulp.
intransitive verb:
1. To chew food.
She covered her mouth full of braces and giggled into her hand.
"Isn't that just the dirtiest sounding word ever?!?" she asked incredulously. Jody continued to giggle.
"I mean, people masticate at meetings all the time, right in front of each other. We masticated at the mall today!"
"Me and Joe masticated together in the back of Baskins Robbins the other night," Jody piped up dissolving into giggles again.
"Sometimes," Anna said, clearly just warming up, "I get a really large bowl of ice cream and just got at it and masticate like there is no tomorrow. And just when I don't think I could masticate anymore, I get a second masticating wind. I literally masticate seven or eight times a day."
"Joe and I will go out to dinner and sit across from each other, stare deeply into each others eyes and masticate until they offer us the dessert menu."
"That could be a new pick up line. Not, hey you want to go out to dinner? But, hey do you wan to masticate together tonight?"
"Ha ha! Sometimes, when I don't masticate long enough, I almost choke. Masticating saves lives!"
They both broke down into giggles again.
"That is totally going to be my senior quote this year!"
masticate
\MAS-tih-kayt\ , transitive verb;
1. To grind or crush with or as if with the teeth in preparation for swallowing and digestion; to chew; as, "to masticate food."
2. To crush or knead (rubber, for example) into a pulp.
intransitive verb:
1. To chew food.
She covered her mouth full of braces and giggled into her hand.
"Isn't that just the dirtiest sounding word ever?!?" she asked incredulously. Jody continued to giggle.
"I mean, people masticate at meetings all the time, right in front of each other. We masticated at the mall today!"
"Me and Joe masticated together in the back of Baskins Robbins the other night," Jody piped up dissolving into giggles again.
"Sometimes," Anna said, clearly just warming up, "I get a really large bowl of ice cream and just got at it and masticate like there is no tomorrow. And just when I don't think I could masticate anymore, I get a second masticating wind. I literally masticate seven or eight times a day."
"Joe and I will go out to dinner and sit across from each other, stare deeply into each others eyes and masticate until they offer us the dessert menu."
"That could be a new pick up line. Not, hey you want to go out to dinner? But, hey do you wan to masticate together tonight?"
"Ha ha! Sometimes, when I don't masticate long enough, I almost choke. Masticating saves lives!"
They both broke down into giggles again.
"That is totally going to be my senior quote this year!"
Fealty
Word of the Day Friday, March 05, 2010
fealty
\FEE-uhl-tee\ , noun;
1. Fidelity to one's lord; the feudal obligation by which the tenant or vassal was bound to be faithful to his lord.
2. The oath by which this obligation was assumed.
3. Fidelity; allegiance; faithfulness.
They sat on the floor facing one another, the carpet leaving indentations on the skin of their ankles and knees.
This was the most serious of childhood negotiations. The earliest transactions of bartering and trade. The first practice of trying to deceive and swindle.
It was all in the pitch, the building up, compliment after compliment, paving the way to the deal.
Of course, being the older sister she expected the younger sister fealty to play an important role in the negotiations. As a last resort she planned on using coercion. But only as a last resort.
She flipped her sticker book open to the page of the sub-par Peter Rabbit stickers, "I'll trade you this one of Peter Rabbit, for your fuzzy Teddy Bear sticker," she offered, starting to peel the sticker off the page.
Her little sister's large blue eyes wandered down to the sticker she was pointing to, "That isn't a good one, that is a bad trade. I'll give you the teddy bear for your Black Stallion sticker," her sister countered.
Of course, at the end of the sticker trading session they both still had all the same stickers in their books, neither one willing to give too much ground.
fealty
\FEE-uhl-tee\ , noun;
1. Fidelity to one's lord; the feudal obligation by which the tenant or vassal was bound to be faithful to his lord.
2. The oath by which this obligation was assumed.
3. Fidelity; allegiance; faithfulness.
They sat on the floor facing one another, the carpet leaving indentations on the skin of their ankles and knees.
This was the most serious of childhood negotiations. The earliest transactions of bartering and trade. The first practice of trying to deceive and swindle.
It was all in the pitch, the building up, compliment after compliment, paving the way to the deal.
Of course, being the older sister she expected the younger sister fealty to play an important role in the negotiations. As a last resort she planned on using coercion. But only as a last resort.
She flipped her sticker book open to the page of the sub-par Peter Rabbit stickers, "I'll trade you this one of Peter Rabbit, for your fuzzy Teddy Bear sticker," she offered, starting to peel the sticker off the page.
Her little sister's large blue eyes wandered down to the sticker she was pointing to, "That isn't a good one, that is a bad trade. I'll give you the teddy bear for your Black Stallion sticker," her sister countered.
Of course, at the end of the sticker trading session they both still had all the same stickers in their books, neither one willing to give too much ground.
Didactic
Word of the Day Thursday, March 04, 2010
didactic
\dy-DAK-tik; duh-\ , adjective;
1. Fitted or intended to teach; conveying instruction; instructive; teaching some moral lesson; as, "didactic essays."
2. Inclined to teach or moralize excessively; moralistic.
The droning, monotonous buzz of the tattoo needle was starting to drill its way into Elliott's brain.
She looked over and saw that the outlining was finished and he had started adding the color to her new tattoo. It didn't really hurt as badly as she had thought it would, maybe sort of like tracing on your skin with a razor blade. At first she had been concerned that getting a tattoo on the inside of her wrist would sever her arteries and bleed all over the place.
"This isn't going to like, sever my wrist and kill me or anything, right?" she asked as the guy pressed the pattern of the design over her wrist.
"Nah, this just goes into your epidermis layer of the skin. It won't hit any veins," he assured her quietly.
Elliott watched his purple gloved fingers move over the delicate blue veins showing through her wrist and hoped he knew what he was doing.
"Oh my God! Mom is going to kill you Elle," McKenna said for the hundredth time. Elliott had brought her along for support, but in-between her didactic lectures about defiling her body, she had been freaking out about their mother.
"Christ McKenna, what is the big deal? Mom doesn't even need to know about it," Elliott retorted irritably.
"Yeah, how are you going to hid that?" McKenna asked with a scoffing laugh.
"I'll just wear a bracelet over it," Elliot said with a shrug.
McKenna looked over her shoulder, "What is with the Hall's throat lozenge anyway? That may be the most random thing in the world to get tattooed onto your body."
Elliott shrugged again, and didn't consider for a moment telling McKenna the significance.
didactic
\dy-DAK-tik; duh-\ , adjective;
1. Fitted or intended to teach; conveying instruction; instructive; teaching some moral lesson; as, "didactic essays."
2. Inclined to teach or moralize excessively; moralistic.
The droning, monotonous buzz of the tattoo needle was starting to drill its way into Elliott's brain.
She looked over and saw that the outlining was finished and he had started adding the color to her new tattoo. It didn't really hurt as badly as she had thought it would, maybe sort of like tracing on your skin with a razor blade. At first she had been concerned that getting a tattoo on the inside of her wrist would sever her arteries and bleed all over the place.
"This isn't going to like, sever my wrist and kill me or anything, right?" she asked as the guy pressed the pattern of the design over her wrist.
"Nah, this just goes into your epidermis layer of the skin. It won't hit any veins," he assured her quietly.
Elliott watched his purple gloved fingers move over the delicate blue veins showing through her wrist and hoped he knew what he was doing.
"Oh my God! Mom is going to kill you Elle," McKenna said for the hundredth time. Elliott had brought her along for support, but in-between her didactic lectures about defiling her body, she had been freaking out about their mother.
"Christ McKenna, what is the big deal? Mom doesn't even need to know about it," Elliott retorted irritably.
"Yeah, how are you going to hid that?" McKenna asked with a scoffing laugh.
"I'll just wear a bracelet over it," Elliot said with a shrug.
McKenna looked over her shoulder, "What is with the Hall's throat lozenge anyway? That may be the most random thing in the world to get tattooed onto your body."
Elliott shrugged again, and didn't consider for a moment telling McKenna the significance.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Eructation
Word of the Day Wednesday, March 03, 2010
eructation
\ih-ruhk-TAY-shuhn\ , noun;
1. The act of belching; a belch.
"Marvin, what the hell is going on with you?" Anthony asked, closing the door gently behind him.
"Nothing, nothing!" Marvin replied waving his hand about in the air.
"Nothing? This isn't anything to be blasé about Marvin. Things are, um, moving around in the wings so to speak," Anthony continued, he leaned against Marvin's desk peering down at him intensely as if he were trying to suck answers out of Marvin's eye balls.
"Moving around? Nothing is moving," Marvin mumbled opening the drawer beside his desk.
"Marvin, after that little blip last month, and it wasn't that big of a deal, just a little slip. Diane set up a meeting with the share holders, there has been a bunch of consolidation and it looks as if the majority of the holdings are with Diane now. Do you know about this?" Anthony asked.
Marvin grimaced as if in pain, and shook his head, "No, it is my company not Diane's. Christ Tony, she can't run the company."
Anthony stared at him a moment, "Marvin, I didn't want to bring this up, but there are rumors floating around that you are slipping off the rails. Drinking, carousing. I didn't believe it, but you are three sheets to the wind right now."
Marvin grimaced again, eructated loudly and his face smoothed out into an expression of relief, "Tony! I told you, I have it all under control," his voice slurring slightly, he continued to root around inside the drawer, "Ah! Here it is!" he triumphantly pulled out a bottle of Scotch.
Anthony frowned, "Marvin, this is no time to have another drink."
"This is the perfect time to have another drink. You worry too much. Diane is a gem, she isn't going to let anything happen to the business," Marvin said slopping a pour into a tumbler.
"That's not what I'm worried about," Anthony murmured quietly taking a sip of the Scotch.
eructation
\ih-ruhk-TAY-shuhn\ , noun;
1. The act of belching; a belch.
"Marvin, what the hell is going on with you?" Anthony asked, closing the door gently behind him.
"Nothing, nothing!" Marvin replied waving his hand about in the air.
"Nothing? This isn't anything to be blasé about Marvin. Things are, um, moving around in the wings so to speak," Anthony continued, he leaned against Marvin's desk peering down at him intensely as if he were trying to suck answers out of Marvin's eye balls.
"Moving around? Nothing is moving," Marvin mumbled opening the drawer beside his desk.
"Marvin, after that little blip last month, and it wasn't that big of a deal, just a little slip. Diane set up a meeting with the share holders, there has been a bunch of consolidation and it looks as if the majority of the holdings are with Diane now. Do you know about this?" Anthony asked.
Marvin grimaced as if in pain, and shook his head, "No, it is my company not Diane's. Christ Tony, she can't run the company."
Anthony stared at him a moment, "Marvin, I didn't want to bring this up, but there are rumors floating around that you are slipping off the rails. Drinking, carousing. I didn't believe it, but you are three sheets to the wind right now."
Marvin grimaced again, eructated loudly and his face smoothed out into an expression of relief, "Tony! I told you, I have it all under control," his voice slurring slightly, he continued to root around inside the drawer, "Ah! Here it is!" he triumphantly pulled out a bottle of Scotch.
Anthony frowned, "Marvin, this is no time to have another drink."
"This is the perfect time to have another drink. You worry too much. Diane is a gem, she isn't going to let anything happen to the business," Marvin said slopping a pour into a tumbler.
"That's not what I'm worried about," Anthony murmured quietly taking a sip of the Scotch.
Temporize
Word of the Day Tuesday, March 02, 2010
temporize
\TEM-puh-ryz\ , intransitive verb;
1. To be indecisive or evasive in order to gain time or delay action.
2. To comply with the time or occasion; to yield to prevailing opinion or circumstances.
3. To engage in discussions or negotiations so as to gain time (usually followed by 'with').
4. To come to terms (usually followed by 'with').
"Soooooo, it turns out this musical is, like, really dangerrrrrrous."
The teenage girl sitting next to me on the bus was speaking to her two friends sitting in the seats in front of me.
"Beeeccccccause, like, Kaitlyn is on vocal rest. She can't talk in class even," she went on.
"She can't talk in class?" the girl in front exclaimed, "Teachers can't call on her?"
"No, like, she is reaaaaall dedicated to the musical and opening night is coooommmming up, and all the teachers are respecting thaaaaaaat."
I tried to concentrate on my book, but her long drawn out words were driving me to distraction. Was it a temporization method honed over years of evasive teenage communication? Or was it just a bizarre quirk of teenage girls these days?
"Buuuuuuut, I think she is feeling better, beeeeeecause I was getting books out of my looooooocker and she walked by and totally smacked meeeeeeeee on the butt. She couldn't say aaaaaaannnnything, but I could just tell she had this merciless laugh on the inside that she wanted to let out."
"Oh my God," I thought, "this conversation makes me want to die."
I closed my book and starred out the window at the passing scenery mentally trying to memorize the conversation so I could mock them in my blog later that night.
temporize
\TEM-puh-ryz\ , intransitive verb;
1. To be indecisive or evasive in order to gain time or delay action.
2. To comply with the time or occasion; to yield to prevailing opinion or circumstances.
3. To engage in discussions or negotiations so as to gain time (usually followed by 'with').
4. To come to terms (usually followed by 'with').
"Soooooo, it turns out this musical is, like, really dangerrrrrrous."
The teenage girl sitting next to me on the bus was speaking to her two friends sitting in the seats in front of me.
"Beeeccccccause, like, Kaitlyn is on vocal rest. She can't talk in class even," she went on.
"She can't talk in class?" the girl in front exclaimed, "Teachers can't call on her?"
"No, like, she is reaaaaall dedicated to the musical and opening night is coooommmming up, and all the teachers are respecting thaaaaaaat."
I tried to concentrate on my book, but her long drawn out words were driving me to distraction. Was it a temporization method honed over years of evasive teenage communication? Or was it just a bizarre quirk of teenage girls these days?
"Buuuuuuut, I think she is feeling better, beeeeeecause I was getting books out of my looooooocker and she walked by and totally smacked meeeeeeeee on the butt. She couldn't say aaaaaaannnnything, but I could just tell she had this merciless laugh on the inside that she wanted to let out."
"Oh my God," I thought, "this conversation makes me want to die."
I closed my book and starred out the window at the passing scenery mentally trying to memorize the conversation so I could mock them in my blog later that night.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Pablum
Word of the Day Monday, March 01, 2010
pablum
\PAB-luhm\ , noun;
1. Something (as writing or speech) that is trite, insipid, or simplistic.
2. (capitalized) A trademark used for a bland soft cereal for infants.
He didn't mean to be an asshole, although he was sure that would be the label he deserved. Who else critics a love letter? But he couldn't help it, there was just something about this girl that drove him to nit-pick, and the sad truth was that her letter was the longest piece of pablum he'd ever had the agony of reading.
She was beautiful, and sweet, and very kind, but not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He liked sharp. Razor sharp ideally.
He skimmed over her rambling about "being over the moon" and how she "had found her soul mate in him" and he felt mildly nauseated. No. Wait. That was just the left-over sushi he had just pulled out of the fridge.
"I'm just not that into you," he thought, putting the letter down on his dining room table, "Now how do I break the news to you?"
pablum
\PAB-luhm\ , noun;
1. Something (as writing or speech) that is trite, insipid, or simplistic.
2. (capitalized) A trademark used for a bland soft cereal for infants.
He didn't mean to be an asshole, although he was sure that would be the label he deserved. Who else critics a love letter? But he couldn't help it, there was just something about this girl that drove him to nit-pick, and the sad truth was that her letter was the longest piece of pablum he'd ever had the agony of reading.
She was beautiful, and sweet, and very kind, but not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He liked sharp. Razor sharp ideally.
He skimmed over her rambling about "being over the moon" and how she "had found her soul mate in him" and he felt mildly nauseated. No. Wait. That was just the left-over sushi he had just pulled out of the fridge.
"I'm just not that into you," he thought, putting the letter down on his dining room table, "Now how do I break the news to you?"
Quixotic
Word of the Day Sunday, February 28, 2010
quixotic
\kwik-SOT-ik\ , adjective;
1. Caught up in the romance of noble deeds and the pursuit of unreachable goals; foolishly impractical especially in the pursuit of ideals.
2. Capricious; impulsive; unpredictable.
"I know what we could do! We could break into the animal areas of the lab and set all the mice free. No more death for the downtrodden, no more torture for the disenfranchised!" Anna yelled thumping her fist on the coffee table.
Zooey rubbed her forehead, "We aren't letting any animals free. We aren't breaking into any lab spaces. Christ! This is no time to let quixotic rhetoric get in the way of a perfectly good plan."
Anna frowned, "Your plan is completely ineffective. You want to get a job in a research lab and sabotage the lab from within? Mess up samples here and there. Record data incorrectly. How is that going to make animals have better lives? Huh? They are all still going to be in cages at the end of the day."
"Yeah, temperature controlled rooms set at the tropical temperature of 72 degrees Fahrenheit for every hour around the clock, with unlimited food and water, specialized healthcare on demand and company from other mice without over-crowding. Fuck, Anna. These mice live better than most Americans. I can't really get behind the Rah Rah animal rights movement because hell, all the drugs you take for your allergies were tested ON ANIMALS you hypocrite. This is about taking down a corrupt business. And how do you do that? You fuck with their pharmaceutical capacity," Zooey ranted starting to pace around the room.
Anna pouted, "Yeah, but Andy really likes the animal rights issues, and I really want to go out with him."
quixotic
\kwik-SOT-ik\ , adjective;
1. Caught up in the romance of noble deeds and the pursuit of unreachable goals; foolishly impractical especially in the pursuit of ideals.
2. Capricious; impulsive; unpredictable.
"I know what we could do! We could break into the animal areas of the lab and set all the mice free. No more death for the downtrodden, no more torture for the disenfranchised!" Anna yelled thumping her fist on the coffee table.
Zooey rubbed her forehead, "We aren't letting any animals free. We aren't breaking into any lab spaces. Christ! This is no time to let quixotic rhetoric get in the way of a perfectly good plan."
Anna frowned, "Your plan is completely ineffective. You want to get a job in a research lab and sabotage the lab from within? Mess up samples here and there. Record data incorrectly. How is that going to make animals have better lives? Huh? They are all still going to be in cages at the end of the day."
"Yeah, temperature controlled rooms set at the tropical temperature of 72 degrees Fahrenheit for every hour around the clock, with unlimited food and water, specialized healthcare on demand and company from other mice without over-crowding. Fuck, Anna. These mice live better than most Americans. I can't really get behind the Rah Rah animal rights movement because hell, all the drugs you take for your allergies were tested ON ANIMALS you hypocrite. This is about taking down a corrupt business. And how do you do that? You fuck with their pharmaceutical capacity," Zooey ranted starting to pace around the room.
Anna pouted, "Yeah, but Andy really likes the animal rights issues, and I really want to go out with him."
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Supplicate
Word of the Day Saturday, February 27, 2010
supplicate
\SUP-luh-kayt\ , intransitive verb;
1. To make a humble and earnest petition; to pray humbly.
transitive verb:
1. To seek or ask for humbly and earnestly.
2. To make a humble petition to; to beseech.
"I don't know, what do you think?" Dr. Lkarsak asked.
"This one has shown surprising resourcefulness. It has shown remarkable abilities in cunning and evasion. It took our security forces almost four months to capture it," Dr. Znlruc mused.
"Why did they keep it alive?" Lkarsak asked, wrinkling his nostrils in disgust.
Znlruc shrugged, "We have disposed of over 100 of them with our biochemical analysis and autopsy. I guess it was decided that we should learn more about the behavior of this particular species. Since this one seems particularly resilient the assumption is that it will provide large quantities of data before succumbing to insanity."
They both peered into the cage. The alien was on the floor, arms out-reached to the ceiling, its mouth open, yelling, supplicating to what they could only assume was the light fixture.
supplicate
\SUP-luh-kayt\ , intransitive verb;
1. To make a humble and earnest petition; to pray humbly.
transitive verb:
1. To seek or ask for humbly and earnestly.
2. To make a humble petition to; to beseech.
"I don't know, what do you think?" Dr. Lkarsak asked.
"This one has shown surprising resourcefulness. It has shown remarkable abilities in cunning and evasion. It took our security forces almost four months to capture it," Dr. Znlruc mused.
"Why did they keep it alive?" Lkarsak asked, wrinkling his nostrils in disgust.
Znlruc shrugged, "We have disposed of over 100 of them with our biochemical analysis and autopsy. I guess it was decided that we should learn more about the behavior of this particular species. Since this one seems particularly resilient the assumption is that it will provide large quantities of data before succumbing to insanity."
They both peered into the cage. The alien was on the floor, arms out-reached to the ceiling, its mouth open, yelling, supplicating to what they could only assume was the light fixture.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Mulct
Word of the Day Friday, February 26, 2010
mulct
\MULKT\ , noun;
1. A fine or penalty.
transitive verb:
1. To punish for an offense or misdemeanor by imposing a fine or demanding a forfeiture.
2. To obtain by fraud or deception.
3. To defraud; to swindle.
"So, what are we doing here? We only come here when you have bad news," Diane said.
He had taken her out to Marco's, the most luxurious steakhouse in town. They had gotten their wine and appetizers, and Marvin still hadn't had the nerve to break the news to Diane. "Damn," he though, partially relieved, "she knows me way too well."
He took a sip of wine to delay the inevitable a second or two longer.
He took a deep breath, "Yeah, you're right."
She stared at him a moment as if she couldn't believe her worst intuitions were coming true.
"Well….what is it? Just tell me and get it over quickly," she replied. Her beautiful face had grown hard in just seconds, and his only wish was to soften it again.
"It is that fucking shrew Maribelle Duncan. She is blackmailing me," he spat out.
Diane's face drained of color. "I'm just going to ask you this once Marvin," her voice a sharp hiss, "Are you cheating on me?" She had gotten that fierce look in her eyes that Marvin knew she was steeling herself for a fight.
"No! No, not at all! Christ, Diane, it is about the busness," Marvin replied, shocked that Diane had even considered the possibility of infidelity.
Diane visibly relaxed, "Is that all?" she asked with a slight laugh.
Marvin gaped, "This isn't a good thing!"
"No, of course not, but that is better than you cheating on me," she replied with a little smile.
He smiled back; his beautiful wife. He didn't deserve her and her simple priorities. Him and the family first, the money a far distant priority.
"So, what exactly is the problem with the business?" she asked.
"Let's just say that she has dirt on some business dealings that occurred when my grandfather was running the business that will cause our worth to plummet if it were to come out now. Something about art dealings with the Nazis, I mean, I can barely even believe that could be true, but she has all these documents and receipts. Apparently my Pops was as meticulous with his record keeping as the Germans were."
She frowned.
"The art dealings were just a tiny part of the business, basically a side hobby, but the scandal will scare investors right out of town with the atmosphere the way it is now. She is going to mulct me dry in the meantime," Marvin continued, rubbing his forehead.
Diane's frown deepened and she took a of wine, "Isn't it sort of a delicate balance for her? If she exposes you she'll lose her position of strength with the blackmail, if you have no money she can't get anything out of you."
"Yes. I don't know. She claims some of the paintings were stolen from her family. I think in the end all she wants to see is the downfall of someone in the family. Revenge, I don't know. You know, these paintings were sold before I was even born!" Marvin exclaimed.
"What did you tell her?" Diane asked, she had that calculating look and Marvin could tell her mind was churning but he couldn't tell where she was going with all of this.
"I bluffed and blustered," he replied helplessly.
Diane was quiet a moment, chewing over a piece of Brie.
"I think I may have plan, but let me ask you this, do you trust me?" she asked, a slight gleam in her eyes.
mulct
\MULKT\ , noun;
1. A fine or penalty.
transitive verb:
1. To punish for an offense or misdemeanor by imposing a fine or demanding a forfeiture.
2. To obtain by fraud or deception.
3. To defraud; to swindle.
"So, what are we doing here? We only come here when you have bad news," Diane said.
He had taken her out to Marco's, the most luxurious steakhouse in town. They had gotten their wine and appetizers, and Marvin still hadn't had the nerve to break the news to Diane. "Damn," he though, partially relieved, "she knows me way too well."
He took a sip of wine to delay the inevitable a second or two longer.
He took a deep breath, "Yeah, you're right."
She stared at him a moment as if she couldn't believe her worst intuitions were coming true.
"Well….what is it? Just tell me and get it over quickly," she replied. Her beautiful face had grown hard in just seconds, and his only wish was to soften it again.
"It is that fucking shrew Maribelle Duncan. She is blackmailing me," he spat out.
Diane's face drained of color. "I'm just going to ask you this once Marvin," her voice a sharp hiss, "Are you cheating on me?" She had gotten that fierce look in her eyes that Marvin knew she was steeling herself for a fight.
"No! No, not at all! Christ, Diane, it is about the busness," Marvin replied, shocked that Diane had even considered the possibility of infidelity.
Diane visibly relaxed, "Is that all?" she asked with a slight laugh.
Marvin gaped, "This isn't a good thing!"
"No, of course not, but that is better than you cheating on me," she replied with a little smile.
He smiled back; his beautiful wife. He didn't deserve her and her simple priorities. Him and the family first, the money a far distant priority.
"So, what exactly is the problem with the business?" she asked.
"Let's just say that she has dirt on some business dealings that occurred when my grandfather was running the business that will cause our worth to plummet if it were to come out now. Something about art dealings with the Nazis, I mean, I can barely even believe that could be true, but she has all these documents and receipts. Apparently my Pops was as meticulous with his record keeping as the Germans were."
She frowned.
"The art dealings were just a tiny part of the business, basically a side hobby, but the scandal will scare investors right out of town with the atmosphere the way it is now. She is going to mulct me dry in the meantime," Marvin continued, rubbing his forehead.
Diane's frown deepened and she took a of wine, "Isn't it sort of a delicate balance for her? If she exposes you she'll lose her position of strength with the blackmail, if you have no money she can't get anything out of you."
"Yes. I don't know. She claims some of the paintings were stolen from her family. I think in the end all she wants to see is the downfall of someone in the family. Revenge, I don't know. You know, these paintings were sold before I was even born!" Marvin exclaimed.
"What did you tell her?" Diane asked, she had that calculating look and Marvin could tell her mind was churning but he couldn't tell where she was going with all of this.
"I bluffed and blustered," he replied helplessly.
Diane was quiet a moment, chewing over a piece of Brie.
"I think I may have plan, but let me ask you this, do you trust me?" she asked, a slight gleam in her eyes.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Gregarious
Word of the Day Thursday, February 25, 2010
gregarious
\grih-GAIR-ee-us\ , adjective;
1. Tending to form a group with others of the same kind.
2. Seeking and enjoying the company of others.
Shawn rolled over in bed and morosely stared at the ceiling. The incessant beeping of the alarm clock still reverberated in his head. Just eight more minutes he thought to himself, closing his eyes and trying to coax his body into going back to sleep.
He was just tired. Worn out. Run down. If I can just sleep in a couple extra hours he always thought to himself. But for some reason he always slept in better on weekdays, it always seemed like when Saturday rolled around, he would clear his morning schedule to accommodate a late morning in bed, and he always found that he slept fitfully all night and his back started to ache by7:00.
It wasn't really like him. Always the gregarious little brother, always in the middle of things and organizing one event or another with friends and family.
That is the problem, he thought to himself, is that I never stop. His calendar was booked four months in advance and once one party or activity was over he was searching the event calendars for the next thing to do. Snow-shoeing, science lectures, events at the library, a happy hour here, a night playing Rock Band with the family there.
Wouldn't it be nice just to have someone else take care of all those things, just for once? he thought to himself just as the gauzy haze of sleep started to wash over him.
BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP
His eight minutes were up.
gregarious
\grih-GAIR-ee-us\ , adjective;
1. Tending to form a group with others of the same kind.
2. Seeking and enjoying the company of others.
Shawn rolled over in bed and morosely stared at the ceiling. The incessant beeping of the alarm clock still reverberated in his head. Just eight more minutes he thought to himself, closing his eyes and trying to coax his body into going back to sleep.
He was just tired. Worn out. Run down. If I can just sleep in a couple extra hours he always thought to himself. But for some reason he always slept in better on weekdays, it always seemed like when Saturday rolled around, he would clear his morning schedule to accommodate a late morning in bed, and he always found that he slept fitfully all night and his back started to ache by7:00.
It wasn't really like him. Always the gregarious little brother, always in the middle of things and organizing one event or another with friends and family.
That is the problem, he thought to himself, is that I never stop. His calendar was booked four months in advance and once one party or activity was over he was searching the event calendars for the next thing to do. Snow-shoeing, science lectures, events at the library, a happy hour here, a night playing Rock Band with the family there.
Wouldn't it be nice just to have someone else take care of all those things, just for once? he thought to himself just as the gauzy haze of sleep started to wash over him.
BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP
His eight minutes were up.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Arcanum
Word of the Day Wednesday, February 24, 2010
arcanum
\ar-KAY-nuhm\ , noun;
plural arcana \-nuh\
1. A secret; a mystery.
2. Specialized or mysterious knowledge, language, or information that is not accessible to the average person (generally used in the plural).
"Um," he said, his eyes searching the ceiling as he thought.
"You know that last guy actually had the balls to tell me 'um' was a one syllable word when I did the same thing," she told him leaning forward conspiratorially.
"That guy over there?" he asked nodding to the next table.
"Yeah, like he was on a game show," she added with a laugh.
"Wow, I wonder if that is part of the arcana of the Toxic Bachelor," he mused giving the other guy a closer second look.
"Oooh, Toxic Bachelor, eh? You sound well versed in your Sex and the City episodes," she added with an eye brow arch.
"You know, that was going to be my clever opening question….which Sex and the City character are you the most like? But then I realized that I don't come off as the, err, most masculine date with that sort of question," he said with a hapless shrug, "Unfortunately, I didn't realize that until about three speed dates into this thing."
"Hmm, yes, I can see that. But I'd have to say Miranda with a smidge of Charlotte," she replied, "You?"
"Definitely a Steve with a splash of Burger," he answered promptly.
"Burger, eh?"
"I like the dry, sarcastic wit. And by the way, are you Canadian or something? What is with al the ehs?" he paused a moment, "Wow, that sounds like a bad Wheel of Fortune joke or something."
She giggled, "You're close, a bad habit I picked up from a Canadian friend I used to work with. But I don't know, sometimes a statement just needs an eh."
He nodded, "I can see that."
They were silent a moment.
"So, what was his polysyllabic word?" he asked with a smile.
"You know, we never got that far. Although I guessed sanctimonious prick," she answered and found herself twisting her shoulders into her flirty pose. She was really enjoying this guy.
"Ah, good one. Although…." he trailed off the sentence.
"Yes, I know. Two words. He was sweet enough to point that out as well,"
He burst out laughing, "Oh christ, you've got to be kidding me. Well, I think I have found my polysyllabic word. Enamored." he said with a shy smile.
She grinned, "Very cute."
"What can I say, I'm a sucker for an exotic Canadian accent."
She looked at her watch, "We still have one minute and 14 seconds left."
"Hmm…in that case I better give you my number now while I still have time," he said pulling out a pen and a business card.
"Absolutely," she murmured.
arcanum
\ar-KAY-nuhm\ , noun;
plural arcana \-nuh\
1. A secret; a mystery.
2. Specialized or mysterious knowledge, language, or information that is not accessible to the average person (generally used in the plural).
"Um," he said, his eyes searching the ceiling as he thought.
"You know that last guy actually had the balls to tell me 'um' was a one syllable word when I did the same thing," she told him leaning forward conspiratorially.
"That guy over there?" he asked nodding to the next table.
"Yeah, like he was on a game show," she added with a laugh.
"Wow, I wonder if that is part of the arcana of the Toxic Bachelor," he mused giving the other guy a closer second look.
"Oooh, Toxic Bachelor, eh? You sound well versed in your Sex and the City episodes," she added with an eye brow arch.
"You know, that was going to be my clever opening question….which Sex and the City character are you the most like? But then I realized that I don't come off as the, err, most masculine date with that sort of question," he said with a hapless shrug, "Unfortunately, I didn't realize that until about three speed dates into this thing."
"Hmm, yes, I can see that. But I'd have to say Miranda with a smidge of Charlotte," she replied, "You?"
"Definitely a Steve with a splash of Burger," he answered promptly.
"Burger, eh?"
"I like the dry, sarcastic wit. And by the way, are you Canadian or something? What is with al the ehs?" he paused a moment, "Wow, that sounds like a bad Wheel of Fortune joke or something."
She giggled, "You're close, a bad habit I picked up from a Canadian friend I used to work with. But I don't know, sometimes a statement just needs an eh."
He nodded, "I can see that."
They were silent a moment.
"So, what was his polysyllabic word?" he asked with a smile.
"You know, we never got that far. Although I guessed sanctimonious prick," she answered and found herself twisting her shoulders into her flirty pose. She was really enjoying this guy.
"Ah, good one. Although…." he trailed off the sentence.
"Yes, I know. Two words. He was sweet enough to point that out as well,"
He burst out laughing, "Oh christ, you've got to be kidding me. Well, I think I have found my polysyllabic word. Enamored." he said with a shy smile.
She grinned, "Very cute."
"What can I say, I'm a sucker for an exotic Canadian accent."
She looked at her watch, "We still have one minute and 14 seconds left."
"Hmm…in that case I better give you my number now while I still have time," he said pulling out a pen and a business card.
"Absolutely," she murmured.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Fructuous
Word of the Day Tuesday, February 23, 2010
fructuous
\FRUHK-choo-uhs\ , adjective;
1. Fruitful; productive.
She tightly gripped the steering wheel and concentrated on staying out of the rain filled ruts in the freeway.
It had been a bad week. One miserable event after another was erupting onto her daily landscape and it was all she could do to feel like she was keeping her head above water and not floundering. The incessant rain wasn't helping to shake the feelings of drowning.
The spray from the cars ahead of her blurred the windshield and she adjusted the wind shield wipers a notch higher deciding that she would just have to put up with the scraping squeak it made with every pass.
Squeak…..squeak…..squeak…..squeak.squeak.squeak.squeak.
At the beginning of the month she had actually had high hopes for a fructuous month. Work was going well, her new exercise routine was still fun and motivating, life at home was pleasant and filled with joy and fun.
It must be something about the month of February. Like because it is the shortest month it demands its pound of flesh with deeper cuts to make up for the fact that it has less time to collect payment.
Work had quickly become overwhelming, a triage of the projects that were piling up on her desk. The exercise routine left her leaving blah. Running made her feel fat and slow, cycling caused the sciatica to flare up. And as for home, when exactly did nine year olds affect the attitude of teenagers? Wasn't that supposed to happen at, like, age 10?
And now here she was, concentrating with every fiber of her being to make sure didn't fuck up while driving because she had so many people around her that would be so pissed off if she added another headache to the pile.
fructuous
\FRUHK-choo-uhs\ , adjective;
1. Fruitful; productive.
She tightly gripped the steering wheel and concentrated on staying out of the rain filled ruts in the freeway.
It had been a bad week. One miserable event after another was erupting onto her daily landscape and it was all she could do to feel like she was keeping her head above water and not floundering. The incessant rain wasn't helping to shake the feelings of drowning.
The spray from the cars ahead of her blurred the windshield and she adjusted the wind shield wipers a notch higher deciding that she would just have to put up with the scraping squeak it made with every pass.
Squeak…..squeak…..squeak…..squeak.squeak.squeak.squeak.
At the beginning of the month she had actually had high hopes for a fructuous month. Work was going well, her new exercise routine was still fun and motivating, life at home was pleasant and filled with joy and fun.
It must be something about the month of February. Like because it is the shortest month it demands its pound of flesh with deeper cuts to make up for the fact that it has less time to collect payment.
Work had quickly become overwhelming, a triage of the projects that were piling up on her desk. The exercise routine left her leaving blah. Running made her feel fat and slow, cycling caused the sciatica to flare up. And as for home, when exactly did nine year olds affect the attitude of teenagers? Wasn't that supposed to happen at, like, age 10?
And now here she was, concentrating with every fiber of her being to make sure didn't fuck up while driving because she had so many people around her that would be so pissed off if she added another headache to the pile.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Fractious
Word of the Day Monday, February 22, 2010
fractious
\FRAK-shuhs\ , adjective;
1. Tending to cause trouble; unruly.
2. Irritable; snappish; cranky.
Joe and Martin quietly worked together in the sand box building a Match Box car sized city. Joe's dad had drenched the sand with a hose and they had pulled all of their summer time sand castle building molds out of the basement to construct a real city.
They hadn't put together a cogent plan, however, both of them being eleven, or both of them being boys, or both having the same idea about city planning and engineering, whatever it was, the city grew around them quickly and without the usual committee caused building delays.
Their towers dried in the warm spring sunshine and metamorphosed into glittering, golden towers looming erect and proud over the clean streets free of Match Box sized traffic jams. One half expected King Arthur to appear and smile down upon this Golden Age of child's play.
Joe had just finished carving windows into the Tower for Peaceful Activities when Martin addressed him, "I think it is time," he said. Joe nodded, and pulled out his cell phone. "Hi, Becky? Martin and I were just wondering if you would like to come over and play City Council with us? Great, we'll see you in a little bit," and hung up the phone.
They continued quietly to smooth out the paved streets of their golden city until they heard the back gate open and slam shut. They both looked up, caught each others eye, and smiled.
"Hey Becky!" Joe called out, discreetly starting a stop watch in his pocket.
"Hey guys! Wow, great city!" she exclaimed making her way over to the sand box.
Both boys smiled broadly, still tickled with their own cleverness. See, Becky was the most fractious person in their class. It didn't matter what game they played, it almost always ended up with one of their toys being smashed against the wall or underfoot in one of Becky's angry outbursts at Martin and Joe not following along with how she wanted to play the game.
What was how Martin and Joe came up with the game of "How Fast Can the World Reach Utter and Complete Destruction?"
"I get to be mayor!" Martin exclaimed.
"No you don't! It has to be put up to a democratic vote," Becky immediately interjected.
"All in favor of me being Mayor say aye," Martin said promptly raising his hand and saying aye. Joe quickly followed suite.
"That isn't fair! You are just voting that way because I'm a girl," Becky whined.
"Ooh," Martin said turning to Joe, "We've never had an EEO complaint before." Joe wiggled his eyebrows. "Fine, you can be mayor," Becky said pouting, "But you only won because of an unfair smear campaign against me," she added.
"I don't know," Martin said, "I heard it was true about you farting in math class yesterday."
Becky's eyes flashed in anger and it one fluid motion she kicked over the three tallest sand buildings and had turned on her hell on her way out of the yard.
Martin pulled the stop watch out of his pocket. "I think that is an all tie world record. One minute 36 seconds. I don't know if we'll ever beat that one!" he said gleefully.
They happily proceeded to play Godzilla with the rest of their golden city.
fractious
\FRAK-shuhs\ , adjective;
1. Tending to cause trouble; unruly.
2. Irritable; snappish; cranky.
Joe and Martin quietly worked together in the sand box building a Match Box car sized city. Joe's dad had drenched the sand with a hose and they had pulled all of their summer time sand castle building molds out of the basement to construct a real city.
They hadn't put together a cogent plan, however, both of them being eleven, or both of them being boys, or both having the same idea about city planning and engineering, whatever it was, the city grew around them quickly and without the usual committee caused building delays.
Their towers dried in the warm spring sunshine and metamorphosed into glittering, golden towers looming erect and proud over the clean streets free of Match Box sized traffic jams. One half expected King Arthur to appear and smile down upon this Golden Age of child's play.
Joe had just finished carving windows into the Tower for Peaceful Activities when Martin addressed him, "I think it is time," he said. Joe nodded, and pulled out his cell phone. "Hi, Becky? Martin and I were just wondering if you would like to come over and play City Council with us? Great, we'll see you in a little bit," and hung up the phone.
They continued quietly to smooth out the paved streets of their golden city until they heard the back gate open and slam shut. They both looked up, caught each others eye, and smiled.
"Hey Becky!" Joe called out, discreetly starting a stop watch in his pocket.
"Hey guys! Wow, great city!" she exclaimed making her way over to the sand box.
Both boys smiled broadly, still tickled with their own cleverness. See, Becky was the most fractious person in their class. It didn't matter what game they played, it almost always ended up with one of their toys being smashed against the wall or underfoot in one of Becky's angry outbursts at Martin and Joe not following along with how she wanted to play the game.
What was how Martin and Joe came up with the game of "How Fast Can the World Reach Utter and Complete Destruction?"
"I get to be mayor!" Martin exclaimed.
"No you don't! It has to be put up to a democratic vote," Becky immediately interjected.
"All in favor of me being Mayor say aye," Martin said promptly raising his hand and saying aye. Joe quickly followed suite.
"That isn't fair! You are just voting that way because I'm a girl," Becky whined.
"Ooh," Martin said turning to Joe, "We've never had an EEO complaint before." Joe wiggled his eyebrows. "Fine, you can be mayor," Becky said pouting, "But you only won because of an unfair smear campaign against me," she added.
"I don't know," Martin said, "I heard it was true about you farting in math class yesterday."
Becky's eyes flashed in anger and it one fluid motion she kicked over the three tallest sand buildings and had turned on her hell on her way out of the yard.
Martin pulled the stop watch out of his pocket. "I think that is an all tie world record. One minute 36 seconds. I don't know if we'll ever beat that one!" he said gleefully.
They happily proceeded to play Godzilla with the rest of their golden city.
Bombast
Word of the Day Sunday, February 21, 2010
bombast
\BOM-bast\ , noun;
1. Pompous or pretentious speech or writing.
He pulled the yearbook across the table and flipped it open to the page dedicated to Homecoming. He briefly looked across the table at Stephanie Roger. She was preoccupied with some shenanigans across the room, not even paying attention to him. She must be one of those girls that wants to have everyone in the class sign her senior year book. That was the only reason he could come up with for her asking him to sign it in the first place. He hadn't been exactly embraced by his class ever since the Homecoming incident. Oh well, he thought, uncapping his pen. Here was his chance to bombast his version of the story, permanently, into Stephanie Roger's yearbook, for all eternity. He started it off with his favorite line of the year, "When I see you again in ten years…."
bombast
\BOM-bast\ , noun;
1. Pompous or pretentious speech or writing.
He pulled the yearbook across the table and flipped it open to the page dedicated to Homecoming. He briefly looked across the table at Stephanie Roger. She was preoccupied with some shenanigans across the room, not even paying attention to him. She must be one of those girls that wants to have everyone in the class sign her senior year book. That was the only reason he could come up with for her asking him to sign it in the first place. He hadn't been exactly embraced by his class ever since the Homecoming incident. Oh well, he thought, uncapping his pen. Here was his chance to bombast his version of the story, permanently, into Stephanie Roger's yearbook, for all eternity. He started it off with his favorite line of the year, "When I see you again in ten years…."
Egregious
Word of the Day Saturday, February 20, 2010
egregious
\ih-GREE-juhs\ , adjective;
1. Conspicuously and outrageously bad or reprehensible.
It had been a little social faux paus. He hadn't even thought a second thought about it at the time, it just seemed like the natural thing to do. Why not invite Derek along to the after party? It wasn't as if he was unknown in the social circles, he was probably more popular than Jaime himself, so he had figured he would be a welcome addition. Especially with Derek's bottomless pot supply. But boy had he been wrong.
It quickly became painfully apparent that he had committed and egregious blunder. They had walked into the house, large, a mansion with every light in the place blazing, packed with people. Yet as soon as they walked past the crowds would mute themselves for just a moment before they seemed to fold in like packets of origami in order to gossip a moment later. The silence a blip on the screen.
He just couldn't rationalize the anger towards Derek in his head, and since he couldn't understand it he had decided it didn't really matter and had gone on with his evening. He had gone about the rest of the evening flirting and drinking beers, clearly not fully comprehending how big of a deal his mistake really was, and the price he would most certainly pay for it.
egregious
\ih-GREE-juhs\ , adjective;
1. Conspicuously and outrageously bad or reprehensible.
It had been a little social faux paus. He hadn't even thought a second thought about it at the time, it just seemed like the natural thing to do. Why not invite Derek along to the after party? It wasn't as if he was unknown in the social circles, he was probably more popular than Jaime himself, so he had figured he would be a welcome addition. Especially with Derek's bottomless pot supply. But boy had he been wrong.
It quickly became painfully apparent that he had committed and egregious blunder. They had walked into the house, large, a mansion with every light in the place blazing, packed with people. Yet as soon as they walked past the crowds would mute themselves for just a moment before they seemed to fold in like packets of origami in order to gossip a moment later. The silence a blip on the screen.
He just couldn't rationalize the anger towards Derek in his head, and since he couldn't understand it he had decided it didn't really matter and had gone on with his evening. He had gone about the rest of the evening flirting and drinking beers, clearly not fully comprehending how big of a deal his mistake really was, and the price he would most certainly pay for it.
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