American as Apple(pie)

Usually, my Facebook statuses are sporadic thoughts I have that I’m too lazy to turn into blog posts. For instance, last week I proclaimed my desire to like meatloaf as much as I like Meatloaf. Despite my copious consumption of beef from then until now, sadly my wish hasn’t become a reality. It doesn’t merit a blog post though, mostly due to my lack of initiative. What is Meatloaf up to, anyways?

Yesterday, I joked in a status update that if the government were run by Mac users, then maybe it wouldn’t have to shutdown and restart so frequently. Insert a couple of Facebook thumbs ups and comments here, and you’d get an accurate depiction of what my Newsfeed looks like.  Then, I experienced a feeling that I don’t encounter very often—I was right!

Apple products are the perfect analogy to how our government should be run. Instead of saying all of my thoughts and feelings in a Facebook thread (because nothing is truly sadder than when a person comments profusely on their own status), I’d do the more egotistical but less self-deprecating approach: blog about it. 

As I initially commented on FB, Apple products are designed with the user in mind. They are not like other products that are complicated and involved reams of product documentation. An iPad can be used right out of the box with little direction. I’m not saying that Americans are stupid because they can’t handle manuals or that we should be allowed to run amok with little supervision. The stupidity of the general populace in this country belongs in a different rant. This jab is at Congress, et al. I’m saying that our government should just know the shit it’s supposed to do and do it right and right away.

Look at it this way. You own a PC and you have to deal with error messages and viruses. Politicians love fear mongering with viruses. While Rick Perry might be forcing Guardasil on you, and Bachmann might say that this causes mental retardation in twelve year old girls, wouldn’t it be better to just have zero viruses altogether? Viruses are just as real to Apple users as true love is to Charlie Sheen.

Seriously, the current government, depicted in my eyes as the PC (not to be confused with politically correct, which our politics most certainly are not), is susceptible to the virus of stupidity now. I see no vaccination in sight. I’m not just finger pointing at the Tea Party (because then I’d get carpal tunnel from too much activity, and it wouldn’t be covered since my healthcare is gone), but our government is diseased. Everyone is yelling at everyone, and there is no harmony.

In the wonderful world of Apple, there are no viruses or discord. Things just get along. Apple talks to other devices in other families and works with them in compromise. It’s just easy dialogue. Sure, it may get the reputation of being elitist, but wouldn’t you rather pay slightly more for a government that will just work all the time?

Think about how many times you’ve had to hit CTRL+ALT+DELETE on your PC to get a do-over. This is what the current budget crisis looks like for Congress. As we near a potential shutdown again this week, I can’t help but think how few times I’ve had to restart my Macbook, Hank. While the comparison is silly, it still makes me dream of a government that actually cares about people and their problems. Apple works for me; I don’t have to work for it.

hotter than obama girl!

Statistically, Mac owners are more liberal (see more facts of PC vs. Mac users here: http://blog.hunch.com/?p=45344) and while I don’t want to declare allegiance to either party right now (and pretend I have a degree in computer science), I can’t help but fantasize of a government running on a Macintosh platform.  Here would be the crucial points:

-an upgrade literally every six months. Sure, that can be annoying. These iPads are coming faster and more often than a porn star. But it can also be a good thing! Constant upgrades means if you’re sick of how things are going; you only have to wait a little bit of time until they just get even better. Plus, the upgrades have awesome names, like Snow Leopard and Lion. What a fierce government! Do you really want to have a government that had names like Vista and XP?

-indiscriminate financing. I bought my Macbook Pro with an Apple financing plan that didn’t judge me because I wasn’t from Bethesda, wasn't wearing American Apparel or didn't work for a graphic design firm. Apple wants you and will work with you, depending on your finances. Perhaps they are Socialist, but Apple won’t tax you for being poor. I'm sure it's not just the wealthiest 2% who own Apple. 

-it’s made better. Seriously, I had to replace my battery on my old PC twice and bought three chargers during its pathetic life span. My Macbook doesn’t overheat, is shiny as fuck, and has a fantastic battery life. My ideal government would be one that is beautiful in and out. While on average, the Tea Party candidates have been good looking, they are dumb as dirt inside. Voting for Michele Bachman is like buying a nice case for your Zune.

Anyways, in my crusade against shitty technology and even shittier government, I realized that I might actually have found a connection. Apple doesn’t suck. Our government sucks for the very reasons that PCs do. I don’t know a lot about technology or government, but even I can figure out that our representatives need to learn from a tried and true model. An Apple a day keeps the doctor away (actually, ironically, so will Tea Party candidates if they cut healthcare any further). But yeah, it’s just a cliché that is analogous to our political landscape.

So when election time comes, vote for someone who will just make sense and work out of the box. iDemocracy sounds glorious. 

I didn't claw my way up the foodchain to eat vegetables

Last night, I met my good friend Asher for beer at the Dogfish Head Ale House. He was coming from a family dinner, and like a responsible person, had already eaten dinner before 9 PM. Even though I highly value eating, I rarely do it at conventional times (evidenced by my 11 PM Cheez-it binges with Alex). So, when I got to Dogfish, I obviously hadn’t eaten dinner yet. It’s your typical pub food but I was ravenous. There were only so many chicken wings and mozzarella sticks you can eat but still be hungry an hour later from. No, I wanted a real fucking meal that I’d be what Louie C.K. calls ‘uncomfortably full’ after. I opted for the roast beef sandwich since I’m on a roast beef kick. 

It arrived almost ten minutes later in full sandwich glory. Seriously—toothpicks adorned the sandwich like regal flags from Arthurian legend and the French fries were the loyal subjects of this delicious kingdom. My sandwich came with horseradish, ketchup and that au jus stuff. Since I don’t really like using French words and I live in the goddamn USA, I just call it beef juice. 

While I waited for Asher to show up, I started eating the shit out of this mouth orgasm on a plate in front of me. I eyed the ketchup and thought to myself I’d give it a try. I really don’t care for ketchup, but I couldn’t remember why. So, being an adult, I wanted to try it again. It really wasn’t half bad but after 4 fries dipped in this red stuff, I got bored. Unaware that I was doing this, I started dipping my fries in the beef juice. Glorious. And then I started dipping more of my sandwich in it too. That’s when I realized I was dipping my meat sandwich in more meat. I almost had to excuse myself from the restaurant, I was so excited. Luckily, Asher showed up and saved me from what was soon to be a charge of public indecency. 

Now, this might not seem like a big deal to a lot of you, but I’m going to level with you. I haven’t eaten meat in a non-kosher restaurant in close to seven years. When I had a steak sandwich with Clyde in Niagara a few weeks ago, I just looked him dead in the eye and shouted, “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW GOOD MEAT IS??!?!??!?!?!?”. As usual, Clyde was confirmed that I was still ridiculously inappropriate. I can’t stop eating meat now. I want it for lunch. It’s consuming my thoughts. It’s like Ron Swanson took over my brain. You had me at meat tornado. 

Anyways, while stuffing my face with cow last night, it reminded me of my continuous diatribe against vegetarians. I have some good friends who are vegetarians, so I don’t want to disrespect you too much. However, I just don’t get it. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW GOOD MEAT IS? I know that’s not the point. You have lofty reasons of saving animals and respect for the Earth that you uphold. That’s when I ponder, how can an animal lover like myself eat the sheer quantities of animals that I do? I wish I could pull a Hank Hill and calculate how much beef I eat in a year. 

When I used to order items without meat in the previous years, my waiters and waitresses would point-blank ask me if I was a vegetarian. The first couple of times I’d gasp at being called such an offensive word and then tried to explain what I was doing. Then, it just got easier to grin and bear it, like a horrible date. Yes, I was a vegetarian, but in reality, my fridge at home is stocked with 15 pounds of Empire chicken nuggets. I was lying to myself whenever I accepted that label but it was better than having to explain what my then skewed definition of keeping kosher meant.

But back to my original question—how can someone like me who saves spiders by bringing them outside instead of squashing them eat as much meat as I do? I love animals so much. I sleep with a stuffed animal seal. I coo when I see ducks. I think cows are adorable but I ate one last night. What the fuck is that all about? I feel like a huge hypocrite because I like animals more than I like most people, but I’ve never eaten a human before. Wouldn’t that be more fair? I bet Republicans taste terrible though.

I have no idea how to counter this crazy logic I mused about for a few minutes while eating a roast beef sandwich, but I wonder if I have to. Humans have been eating meat for thousands of years and I’m not about to change history with my inane ramblings. I can love animals but also love them on a hoagie roll. Life isn’t black and white, after all. It’s all cooked medium.

arrrrghhhh

Taking yet another page of JD Salinger’s book (aka my bible), The Catcher in the Rye, I’ve decided that it’s about time for me to rag on people a bit. I mean, that’s Holden for you. Truthfully, I do love being around people but that doesn’t mean I love people. They’re just more fun to be around than me all the time. After a while, just laughing at/by/with myself gets kind of pathetic. And I’m already sporting a pretty pathetic sense of humor.

I spent this past weekend up in not-so-snowy Rochester visiting Clyde. I like Clyde because we hate the same sorts of people. It’s reassuring in a way to know I’m not crazy when I’m filled with anger about parents who let their kids run around in movie theatres, rubbing their boogers all over the seats. Blegh. God forbid I ever reproduce, I’m not bringing my offspring to the movies. I hate it when dates talk to me during movies—do you really think I’ll be able to put up with sugar-ridden toddlers who start screaming when a movie gets too loud because Denzel Washington is taking names and kicking ass?

Clyde and I spent Saturday at Niagara Falls, looking at one of the Natural Wonders of the World. Now, I try not to be too sentimental (I truly do hate Valentine’s Day and kittens, for instance), but something about a humongous waterfall just makes me heart pound with love for this crazy beautiful Earth. Like everything wonderful, it’s the goddamn people that have to ruin it.

Niagara Falls is a tourist trap, and like all places that teem with sweaty families filled with disrespect for landmarks, they also say the stupidest things. I love a good saying, but sometimes things become so trite, they’re just too painful. It literally makes my skin crawl, and not just because I’m covered with Canadian mist. Here’s the list of my top four infernal things I will punch you in the face for if I ever hear you say aloud:

“Well, I guess we’ll just burn off lunch with all this walking!”

No shit. Moving burns calories. And those calories came from that overpriced meal you got at that rip-off "authentic" diner you ate at. Now, this is my own scientific logic, but if you’re planning to have your slow amble up and down an overfilled street (while simultaneously lining your family up like the Wizard of Oz gang so no one can pass in either direction) be your only exercise for today, then I finally solved the puzzle as to why practically ½ of Americans are obese.

“We’ll sleep well tonight!”

This is on the same thread as my previous idiotic statement. After a family tires themselves out, they always remark wistfully how they’ll just pass out in bed early and sleep extra deeply. Maybe it’s true they’re exhausted but it’s not from the task you call walking around. No, you’re stopping in and out of kitschy souvenir stores and waiting in line in blistering heat for some overpriced amusement park ride or entry to a wax museum. I’m not saying rides aren’t cool—hell, Clyde and I went on a Ferris Wheel, but that doesn’t really mean I’m sleeping any better at night.

“Wow, this is a long traffic light [and others related]!”

i don't love garfield, but who doesn't love a good arrrgh!?

Okay, this one really grinds my gears because it’s so obvious. We’re all noticing it because we’re all a) either in the same car together or b) waiting at the same crosswalk together. Either way, it’s the same situation as when someone points out how dark the sky is getting when the sun hides behind clouds or how windy it is when tree limbs are snapping and women’s tops are flying up. God. Yes it’s long. I’m waiting in the same light, and even though we’re different people, it doesn’t mean time is really that relative. Yes, I have to pee too. Yes, those creepy guys in the car next to us are making inappropriate gestures to their penises. Yes, I am also craving Taco Bell. But your inane observation won’t make that light change any faster.

“Hahaha, don’t fall in!”

I got this one a lot when I told people I’d be seeing Niagara Falls. Really? Do I look like the type of bumbling fool who can just spontaneously find myself barreling down Niagara Falls? Or, am I the type of spaz who would actually do it on purpose? I couldn’t help but remember the similar plight that Ralphie went through in A Christmas Story when family members and teachers tell him that he’ll shoot his eye out. Seriously, he may be a young kid but he’s not going to shoot his eye out on purpose.  Just like I’m not going fucking find myself toppling down a super large waterfall because it's just a terrible idea.

This reminds me of my rant on the earthquake where everyone tries to make it all about them. They’d all be excited to know the person who somehow fell down Niagara Falls because of their crazy prophetic words. Sadly, I didn’t end up drowning in frigid Canadian water, impaled by large rocks and whirled about by dizzying cataracts. Sorry to disappoint.

Next time you find yourself on vacation and giving your brain a couple of days rest, please don’t become a moron. If what you’re saying makes so much obvious sense that a frontrunner for the Tea Party doesn’t get it, then you’re probably an idiot for even thinking it.  

This blog entry is about tits.

I got to thinking about my blog the other day and how political and actually intelligent it was sounding. I was getting boring and straying from my original goal of providing ridiculous stories and observations to my fellow readers. In order to prove my point, I’m going to talk about something everyone loves—tits. Seriously, we all do. Admit it.

I was driving yesterday afternoon and I passed a billboard with a chick in a push-up bra on it. Regardless of the fact she was super hot and super airbrushed, it got me to thinking about whether push-up bras are fair. Are they false advertising or are they a revolutionary wonder? Actually, they aren’t that revolutionary. A quick read about the history of the bra on Wikipedia stated that women have been pushing their breasts up since ancient Greek times, and probably a lot earlier than that. I’m sure Eve had a terrific rack. Needless to say, this idea of heaving bosoms up to make them more noticeable has been going on for centuries, but bras are much better now and improving every day. Just because the technology is there, should we use it?

would you talk to me if my boobs didn't look this awesome if you knew in reality that nipples pointed in two different directions and lefty was smaller than righty when my bra came off?

As my lady readers will back me up, we all have that ‘one bra’ that just makes us feel spectacular. I wore mine on Sunday and felt like a million bucks. Even though it was under a grubby shirt I spilled pizza on, I still felt like Pamela Anderson . It’s that one bra where you just feel fantastic all day, even if no one else can see it. Luckily, someone else did, which just made my Sunday even better :-p

Anyways, I digress. I want to get back to whether push-up bras are the same problem as steroids are in baseball. Are women just doping up their boobs in order to score? I’ve always wondered if guys just hit on girls because they think what they are packing in the front is going to look like that when the bra comes off. Or, do you guys include that in your judgment of her appearance? This begs my original question: are push-up bras fair? As in, is it worth the eventual disappointment that a girl’s tits aren’t going to look nearly as spectacular as they do at the bar when you bring her home and realize she’s a B instead of a D? What do you guys think? Or, are you too drunk at that point to care? Is it the chase, or is it honesty?

Victoria’s Secret has a product they call the Bombshell Bra, and it instantly brings you up two cups sizes. I’ve tried this on and it was as if my boobs were encased in decorative pillows from Pier 1. It was a magnificent site (as reiterated profusely by the guy friend I was with when I tried it on). Even though it cost more that $50 and didn’t even double as a flotation device, I was still tempted to buy it. But I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone was going to be as turned when I no longer had it on. Put simply, would the one thing that was giving me attention end up being my biggest downfall?

Push-up bras are just big teases, but if you don’t tease a little, you’re not going to get what you want. Women have been told to look for a guy who likes us for who we are inside just as much as who we are on the outside, if not more. Does that mean what’s inside the bra counts too?

My debate for next time: are chicks who wear push-up bras hotter or are chicks who don’t wear bras at all hotter? Discuss.

Oh great, another post about the DC Earthquake…yawn

It happened yesterday, and I’m sick of it already. Actually, I was sick of it two hours after it happened. Let’s do the typical ‘where were you when it happened?’ story. I was in in Baja Fresh. I was about to eat some delicious tacos for lunch. I got one bite and then I felt a rumble. It couldn’t be indigestion and premature shitfire, since I wasn’t eating Chipotle. I was with my boss and she thought I was kicking the table. Since I don’t have some sort of palsy, it turned out to be an earthquake. We ran out of the restaurant and I left my delicious tacos and complimentary salsa on the table. That’s probably the real tragedy.

Actually, I didn’t know it was an earthquake at the time. Since I’m naïve, I had no reason to believe in seismic activity. Maybe it was the Wheaton Metro below me. Maybe it was a truck. Maybe, as a new friend of mine said, Albert Haynesworth got traded back to the Redskins. Needless to say, people were around me thought the Libyans bombed us or something. No, it turns out some rural area in Virginia just wanted some attention and shook shit up. That’s it.

Now, I have to deal with people (myself included) trying to be witty and making the earthquake sound more personally dramatic than it was. My friend Rachel put it best and said that everyone on Facebook was trying to make it sound like this earthquake was the worst possible thing that happened to them and them alone. No. We all felt it. As I always quote Tyler Durden, we’re not all beautiful and unique snowflakes. We’re all that same, slightly shaken up piece of organic decaying matter as everything else.

I talked to my friend Deb in Israel about it and she asked how I was. I promptly told her the earth shook because I banged her mom. You know, real mature. To be polite and to apologize for fornicating with her dear mother, I asked her how she was doing. She replied that she hasn’t been killed by rockets yet. Woah. Yeah, shit’s been put in perspective. Just like the collapse of DC during snow week, we similarly lose focus of the world and whine like little girls during a natural disaster. Israel is getting shaken on a much more devastating way and yet everyone cares more about which book fell from their bookshelf or the angle to which the pictures on their walls tilted.

I wouldn’t be surprised if this gets more attention than Japan’s earthquake or Haiti. I don’t mean to be crass. I fully believe this is going to happen. We used to be such a brave country and now a hiccup startles us into hearing crazy narratives on NPR about Gladys and her cats during the great quake of 2011. This better get a cool name like Snowmageddon did. I’m sure HOT 99.5 is hard at work on this one.

I’m not saying the earthquake wasn’t significant. Hell, I’ve always wanted to be in one since I learned about the 1906 one in third grade, and now I can cross it off my bucket list. It was scary, it was cool, now I’m over it. I’m onto bigger things and I just want everyone to do the same. I’m sick and tired of hearing about Martha in Alexandria wondering if her homeowner’s insurance will cover some of her shattered crystal or if Bob in Toronto is safe to come out of his bathtub. As far as I’m concerned, the prattling of humanity is worse than any aftershock we could possibly endure from the earthquake. Let’s move onto bigger things, like Libya, Israel and the horrific individuals running for the Republican candidacy. If Michelle Bachmann is elected president, we have a lot more to worry about than a 5.9 earthquake. She can destroy our country.

PS—I did manage to rescue my tacos. Worth it! 

nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels, which is good because my gym makes me vomit

As good looking as both of my parents are, I can’t have genetics completely carry me through life. I attribute my rocking physique with biceps and calf muscles disproportionate to my tiny stature to my commitment to the gym.  I always checked that ‘workout box’ of 3-5 times per week with pride on my online profiles. Now though, I’m beginning to question how often I should be going to the gym, because like everything I enjoy in life, people have to ruin it for me.

i wish the situation was my personal trainer.

I’m a member of the Bally’s Total Fitness family. I have been over a year now. The membership is cheap. I can use my membership anywhere in the DMV. All good things! I’d find Bally’s to be the perfect gym if it weren’t for the cretins that go there. Forget the zoo, people are so terrible at the gym that I am tempted to brave the Maryland humidity and the swamp monsters that live along the Sligo Creek Trail than go up Viers Mill to Bally’s of Wheaton. 

Here’s a typical day at Bally’s. I drive to the gym after work, and I understand that it’s peak time. Rush hour. Needless to say, there is no parking. This doesn’t stop people from parking on parts of the sidewalk or on dividers. Now, I end up on sidewalks too when I’m not paying attention while I drive, but I usually don’t park on them. At least at a gym. We all want to park closer, but it’s the gym. So what if you have to walk an extra 30 feet—YOU’RE ABOUT TO WORK OUT ANYWAYS! But here’s the shocker: people at my gym don’t go to my gym just to work out. It’s apparently a new hangout. 

I don’t understand why you can’t conduct your social business at any other place than the gym. It’s like people who conduct drug deals at the library…there has to be a better place for this. I’m cool with a little conversation here and there, but overall, if I want to talk to my friends, I’ll meet them at a restaurant, or a bar, or even a Barnes and Noble (RIP Borders). At the gym, people sit on machines without running or lifting, and hold court with 3 of their other gym buddies. I’m sick and tired of this one guy who ALWAYS sits at the triceps machine and just texts for a while. Even when I glare, he doesn’t bat an eye and continues texting his pals. I’ve even gone up to him and asked him if he was done, and he said, one second, sends a text and then gets up. It’s just as offensive as people who text during movies. Don’t you go to the movies to actually *watch* the movie?!

I’m not always the most appropriately dressed person. More than once, my roommates have exclaimed “You’re going out looking like THAT?!”. But that’s different. I’m going out to a bar or on a date. I would never dress the way I do for those instances to go to the gym, but apparently I didn’t get the message on dress code. I’ve seen guys working out in jeans (a serious no-no from even my elementary school days for gym class) and work boots. How is that even comfortable? The ladies are even worse. They come in full makeup, ripped leggings, booty shorts and shirts that make Hooters girls look like they’re as conservative as nuns in comparisons. True story: I’ve seen nipple three times.

If they actually are at the gym to work out and not to get picked up for BJs by the Jacuzzi in the basement, they look like wrecks at the end of the workout. Their faces get smeared with mascara and they usually lose an earring or fake nail along the way. Even after a heavy night of clubbing, I never look that bad. They look like really glittery car accidents. 

Here’s where it gets gross. Seriously. If you don’t want to lose your lunch, I’d suggest you don’t read any further. 

Now, I don’t know what the men’s locker room looks like at Bally’s, but I can’t imagine it any better than the woman’s room. I could complain about how it’s always out of toilet paper and the bathroom doors never lock, but that’s commonplace everywhere. No. I need to discuss gym shower etiquette. This week, I have seen one woman empty her hairbrush and leave a nasty clump of hair in the middle of the floor. I’ve heard woman make audible noises of simultaneous relief and consternation while they take massive dumps. Since there is only one changing room at Bally’s (also with a broken lock), I’m forced to change in these very bathroom stalls that people have probably dumped their digested Baja Fresh burrito in. Filthy. 

Now, I’m no prude and I like the way I look, but that doesn’t mean I parade around naked in the locker room. I know we’re all women, and it doesn’t bother me if I see a boob or a butt cheek now and then. I’ll even be nice and say I don’t care what you look like. However, there is a time and a place for everything. For instance, let’s say I weighed 250 pounds. I wouldn’t choose the middle of the hallway on the way to the shower to bend over in a stretch to touch my toes. Naked. While straddling. To put it bluntly, if I looked any closer, I probably could have seen all the way inside her to see her soul. Now, I just want to throw acid in my eyes and my brain to sear out that image.

Clyde told me the reason he doesn’t go to the gym is that he hates the way sweat smells. I thought he was being ridiculous but I get it now. It’s not the sweat, but the people who are sweating that discourage me from going to the gym. It’s a horrible dilemma because I love working out but I hate the majority of people around me. Even in yoga, people are farting and eating. So much for my chi. 

I’ll still go to the gym since if I quit my membership, there’s no way I’d work out on my own. I’m not that disciplined or financially stable to start buying medicine balls and Schwinns. But, I will complain about the hoochies on the treadmills and the lazy men who sit inside the sauna for two hours with their phones in Ziplocs so the condensation won’t stop them from texting. After all, isn’t it better to look good than to feel good? And as good as I look on the outside, that’s how homicidal I am on the inside. So don’t you dare take my fucking AbBlaster…got it?

But it's only words… they're just fucking words

I have interesting taste in music. I’ll listen to my Pandora work, and my boss lovingly refers to my station as ‘guy’ music. Pandora also thinks I’m a guy, because I get advertisements for Trojan Magnums, hot local females in the Silver Spring area and whiskey. I’m not saying these are all things girls don’t like, but they are typically more related to males. So what if my station is heavy with Nirvana, AC/DC, Guns N’ Roses, Blink 182and the Rolling Stones—it’s my station! I just consider myself to have supreme taste in music, and this often makes me popular at karaoke nights with other males.

I’ve been getting into the Foo Fighters lately after their release of Walk. I asked my sister about her thoughts on the Foo Fighters and she commented via IM “good, but fairly repetitive. Re: THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST OF YOU”. She does have a point. The Foo Fighters do like to shout their point until it would normally give you a migraine but then you remember how awesome Dave Grohl is. I even hooked up with a guy some months ago who looked like Dave Grohl and I felt like Kate Hudson’s character from Almost Famous. Minus the overdose and all that. Oh, spoiler alert.

true story--jesus stole dave grohl's look.

The comment of my guy music also came on the same day of another language discovery. I referred to a situation as ‘awkward’ at work, and then I realized, no, it wasn’t awkward. It was inconvenient, it was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t fully awkward. I realized that my generation overuses the word ‘awkward’, as well as ‘sketchy’ and ‘random’. I think at this point, they can be used almost interchangeably, especially if you’re describing the awkward act of picking up randoms at the sketchy Quarry House Tavern.

Think about it—how often have you referred to an area as a ‘sketchy neighborhood’, filled with ‘random people’, and some homeless guy stared you down and it became ‘awkward’? We use these words daily and so often, that they’ve lost their power. If everything was as awkward as we said it was, I’d probably be agoraphobic out of the shame my actions would inevitably bring me. I’d probably carry a handgun for all the sketchy areas of Silver Spring I encounter, and believe me, it’s a lot.

I used to want to be an etymologist when I was in college and work for the Oxford English Dictionary (not to be confused with my desire to study bugs as an entomologist or my self-proclaimed role as an Entenmannsologist, one who studies overpriced coffee cake and donughtnuts).  I even wrote a 4 page paper my senior year tracing the etymology of the word ‘hook-up’—spoiler alert: it didn’t mean casual sexual activity in our grandparents time the way it does now.

Like most people who had hopes and dreams, I got jaded by the state of the world and how awful people are. Mostly, I saw how no one cares about words. Why use one word when there is a catch-all that will do? Why say someone is depraved when saying 'they really suck' will do just fine. I’m angry at how lazy our dialogue is. Our dictionary has more words than almost any other volume but we use a fraction of them with our lazy tongues and poorly informed minds. I shudder when I remember Syme’s quote from the book 1984, “Beautiful thing, the destruction of words”. Their shrinking Newspeak dictionary is a point of pride in the novel, but like everything Orwell pens, it is a chilling prediction of the inevitable in reality.

Larger words seemed only pressing in times of SATs and term papers. Now, as long as the crux of your point is understood, then all is acceptable. And that’s why I can’t study words anymore; they are a dying breed. For goodness sake, Scrabble in the UK changed their rules to accept proper nouns in game play. Are there not enough words in the regular Scrabble dictionary for people to use? Have we really forgotten our verbs so much that we can start playing words like Panera? For shame!

I am challenging all of you to take a pledge of verbosity. Use a new word instead of taking a shortcut. You’ll sound more erudite and strangers are more likely to take you seriously because they probably won’t comprehend what you’ve told them. You might even become more credible than Salmon Rushdie. Don’t let Dave Grohl and his sexy goatee fool you—they’re more than just fucking words. They are the true essence of your thoughts and feelings. If you allow them to become trite and hackneyed, then you become as dull as the dictionary gathering dust in your library. You’re all smart people, or you wouldn’t be reading this blog. Next time I see you, I want to be dazzled with your lexicon!

And just for the record, I’m not advocating randoms from the Quarry House. That never, ever, results in a good ending.