Word Humor

Warning: this may be last year's, as I seem to recall many of these, but hey, it's still hilarious!


Here is the Washington Post's Mensa Invitational, which once again asked

readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are the winners:

1. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject

financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.

2. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.

3. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you

realize it was your money to start with.

4. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

5. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright

ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of

breaking down in the near future.

6. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting

laid

7. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high

8. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who

doesn't get it.

9. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really

bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious

bummer.

12. Decafalon (n.): The gruelling event of getting through the day consuming

only things that are good for you

13. Glibido: All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler Effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they

come at you rapidly.

15. Arachnoleptic Fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've

accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your

bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the

fruit you're eating.

The Washington Post has also published the winning submissions to its yearly

contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common

words. And the winners are:

1. coffee, n. the person upon whom one coughs.

2. flabbergasted, adj. appalled by discovering how much weight one has

gained.

3. abdicate, v. to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

4. esplanade, v. to attempt an explanation while drunk.

5. willy-nilly, adj. impotent.

6. negligent, adj. absentmindedly answering the door when wearing only a

nightgown.

7. lymph, v. to walk with a lisp.

8. gargoyle, n. olive-flavored mouthwash.

9. flatulence, n. emergency vehicle that picks up someone who has been run

over by a steamroller.

10. balderdash, n. a rapidly-receding hairline.

11. testicle, n. a humorous question on an exam.

12. rectitude, n. the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.

13. pokemon, n. a Rastafarian proctologist.

14. oyster, n. a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.

15. Frisbeetarianism, n. the belief that, after death, the soul flies up onto

the roof and gets stuck there.

16. circumvent, n. an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.

Update on the Terminal Patient

Today it was brought to my attention that I talked all about Emily on my blog, and then didn't bring it up again, therefore implying that...she died. But she hasn't yet! Though she wasn't supposed to make it through October, she is still going, though not necessarily going strong.

Her tumor is enormous; our friend called her "Quasimodo." She seems to just sleep more and more these days, and I halfway keep hoping she'll just kind of peacefully go. I can't imagine putting her to sleep, so hope that doesn't end up having to be the decision.

Anyway, even though some of you may not be cat lovers out there, I appreciate that you love me, and therefore care that I am sad about my kitty-cat. And that may even include those of you whom she has bitten. Thanks for caring about us!

What Has Happened to Us?

Was there a time when we had more dignity? I found myself asking, as I looked across the dinner table at my friend. He was trying to get to the bottom (no pun intended) of why his two-year-old's pants were wet after she used the bathroom.

I can't quite tell you what we talked about in the course of our dinner, as it was frequently interrupted by frustrating or funny behavior from the two toddler girls and the school-age boy we collectively had. At one point, Briana was supposed to apologize to and hug Selah, and Selah threw a book at her, shouting, "No!" When Briana was leaving and I asked her to say bye-bye to the stuffed animal she was attempting to make off with, she turned to Selah (who was being restrained, screaming, on the couch) and said, "Bye-bye, Walrus," to her, waved, and tried to escape, still holding the animal.

Back in December, I took Selah with me to a monthly social for WiPP, a publishing-networking group I belong to. I loaded my bag with toys, let Selah run around near our table, and found myself regaling two childless women with tales of how Selah had peed on the floor at Costco. One of them smiled politely; the other simply looked horrified. My fellow patrons at Costco dealt with it fairly well, however. In the meantime, Selah had a blow-out. And if you have kids, you know just the kind I mean. I tried to deal with it in the bathroom, and then not let on when I returned.

The other day, Selah, complete with ear infection, decided to throw herself on the ground in the Safeway parking lot as I tried to push my cart through the rain to the car. I attempted to heave her up under one arm and push the heavy cart with the other. A young and I would guess single man walked by us, clearly amused. I found myself in one of those low points where I threatened to become unhinged, and was tempted to lurch toward him, snarling, "I'm glad you are so amused by us!" After all, shouldn't he have gallantly tried to help with my cart or something? But he, alas, was just me, pre-Selah. Why don't those parents just take their child home? Why isn't that mother disciplining those children? Why would that guy even bring his child here?

Sometimes I wish people would just say those stupid things aloud, so I could throw myself on their mercy, asking, "What about this makes it seem I am not trying my best?" I have done well this week. In the face of Selah's five-in-five-months ear infections, I have not hit or verbally abused her. I calmly say, "I think it's time for a time-out" in the aisles of Target, instead of shrieking, "Shut up! Stop it! Stop!" like I want to. I buckle her into her car seat every time we drive anywhere. I stir pureed vegetables into her cereal and pasta so she will eat them. I tell her I am sorry whenever I do yell at her, even though I'd rather be "right."

Parents of the world, hang in there. I repent of my judgments, and so will all of the people who are currently judging you! I have joined the club of those who are mostly just relieved isn't currently their child who is hitting someone/peeing on Costco/shouting, "NOOOOOOO!" when the parents try to fasten them into a high chair/spilling juice onto someone else's rug.

I no longer discuss politics and religious ideals at dinner parties with fellow parents. Instead, we just apologize to each other, look at one another and laugh, and think, Well, at least I'm not the only one!

Misty and Chris, we love ya. :) Tell Briana, "Good-night Walrus," from me.

Happy Birthday Sarah

Today is my sister's birthday. For some reason, as I sit here, I can't remember many of her birthdays growing up (of course I haven't had my coffee yet). I do remember we always all felt a little caught by surprise by her birthday, as it is soon after Christmas, and the stores are generally empty of merchandise. Sarah, I will admit here in writing: we probably always did kind of gyp you on your birthday.

These are things I do remember, however:

• crying in your room, or crying together in your room
• always knowing what was happening to you without being told, and vice-versa
• watching you hurl a sandwich bag of cookie dough onto the kitchen floor with fear and awe
• sneaking into your bedroom to try on all your 1980s clubbing dresses
• the coolness of getting to visit you in AZ or Sac, all by myself
• the presents you always bought me when I was little (and still sometimes do)
• in the parking lot of Nob Hill, you saying Oprah Winfrey was gay, and mom not wanting to tell me what that meant
• your Toyota MR2
• being a cool first-grader at San Benancio, getting waved to by junior-highers
  
• having someone who knew what I was going through: knowing at what age people would separate into cliques; protecting me from friends, parents, and yes, our brother; telling me everything you knew about periods, boys, and sex
• you used to read aloud to me--Pride and Prejudice, Lorna Doone, Stuart Little--no wonder I'm smart
• feeling like I had someone who would always love me, no matter what, and would defend me to the death

Through good and bad, hurled game boards and garbage cans, I have always been glad you are my sister. You are one of the few reasons I ever think about having another child--somehow I want Selah to have what I have. Happy Birthday!

Patrick's Photo Shoot

Our friend Patrick is an amazing photographer. Conditions were not ideal, and he still managed to come up with lots of great pictures of us!

Turkey, Wine, and Pie--Oh My!

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I am grateful for all of you, for my lovely family, for the safety and security we have enjoyed, and for the beauty God has placed around us. I have been making half-jokes about just taking some wine and pie upstairs and consuming them by myself, but I do believe I will make an appearance at the family dinner after all...

Homeward Bound (But Which Home?)

Well, here I am, back in sunny California. And it really is. I love Portland with all of my heart, but this time of year I either want to spend the day in bed alternating between sleeping and reading or I want to release my inner psycho, and shout, argue, and cry. It gets dark so very early up north, and that is on days when the sun rises at all!

Luckily, the holidays (and my birthday) will soon be upon us, so that keeps me cheerful. I adore Christmas decorating, gift-buying, music, and all other things seasonal. (With one exception: those stupid cards that say "Season's Greetings." If people don't celebrate Christmas, then they probably aren't sending cards. Just a pet peeve of mine; sorry. Oh yeah, and I hate that Beatles Christmas song you just can't seem to get away from. But I'm done, I promise.) Really though, this whole Christmas paragraph is just a tangential waste of your time--I'll get back to telling you how I am likely to want to kill you once it becomes fall in Portland.

Anyway, it is nice to be "back home." While Monterey and Salinas no longer feel like my home, they will always be "back home," complete with a few special spots and some of my favorite people. It is always troubling to discover how few of those special spots are still unspoiled, but I won't dwell on that; I can't.

Selah is having a good time, though she is a bit sick, unfortunately. She has also started potty training, so for those of you who won't be grossed out, I have some funny stories to tell. I am a little grossed out by the whole thing, but I have never had a stomach of iron. She loves Gammy and Pa-pa, as she calls them, and loves this giant house full of interesting discoveries and ancient, semi-broken toys. I love all of these things too, and look forward to the rest of the clan with their new semi-broken toys arriving tomorrow: Jack, Garrett, and Dennis; Sarah, Ed, and David; Jeremy and Jerry; Ed's sister, father, brother-in-law, and brother-in-law's mother (?). It will be quite a full house, and the time already feels too short.