Matches and Surveys

“So, you really want to get back into World of Warcraft?” I asked, somewhat taken aback by my friend’s regression into geekdom.

“Absolutely,” Dasad said in between sips of a chestnut praline latte – I swear Starbucks is taking advice from Yankee Candle in their choice of holiday blends. “Look you need something to occupy your free time outside of grading . . . mole tests or whatever the hell you teach in chemistry. MMOs are the perfect outlet.”

I nodded. The last week before my school closed for the Christmas break had proven . . . stressful, so much so that I considered stealing away around noon for a several pints of spiked nog. The mounting terror of children, emails, ungraded labs, January’s midterms, cloying principals, overbearing parents and those last-minute quizzes that you thought would provide an easy grade but . . . ah, the to-do list sought to smother my sanity. Only with three o’clock bell did the anxiety begin to drain away like poison from a wound leaving me exhausted and with a slight migraine.

I had met with Dasad hours later for drinks and coffee, confessing my near panic attack and utter thankfulness for the Christmas season.

Continue reading

Advertisements

Care Package for Charlie

Nothing says Summer like minigolf . . .

Some Spoilers in this post about Suzanne Collin’s Mockingjay and the Hunger Games trilogy.  Just a warning for those still reading the books!

So . . . Charley, Shannon’s best friend and my adopted brother, has decided to stay in Ohio this summer after completing his exams to line both wallet and resume. And although we, his surrogate family, support his decision, a rather sizable chunk is missing from our usual cast of degenerates and reprobates. Shannon alone has taken to stumbling alone down the stairs and speaking in strange tongues, mostly because of the daily consumption of alcohol and his upcoming Russian exam; however, if Charley were here now, Shannon would have abandoned Russian to slurred English and celebrated the beginning of summer while mixing Irish car bombs downstairs with the rest of his brothers — see Mom, these are the kinds of rumors and tidbits you miss when you don’t read my blog.

Unfortunately, like most interns, Charles is bored at work, spending most of his morning scanning his browser for sites his company did NOT block, and mostly becoming really truly irritated with the results.  Through several text-exchanges, Chuck explained that his desperation had driven him to read anything.  Even my blog!  Clearly something needed to be done . . . Continue reading

And Awaaaay We Go . . .

Never trust anyone who has not brought a book with them.  — Lemony Snicket

packingPacking for trips always proves a stressful time for me.  Though others might become bogged by shirts, socks, and appropriate footwear, we bibliophiles must decide on the number and type of books we can possibly stuff into our carry-on’s before we’re considered a threat to airline security.

This Saturday Dasad and I are traveling to the other side of the continent for what will prove our second major ‘roadtrip’ in the last four years.  California.  A week and a half.  One insured rent-a-car.  Dear God . . .  Other more road-weary travelers may shrug at such hyperbole, but considering my spring breaks never involved Cancun or Rio, devolving into enjoyable but group-centered family excursions, spending a week anywhere alone is quite exciting.  Needless to say, I hope I don’t drive Dasad murder-crazy.

Yet for the moment all is good.  Though preparing to pack this morning, I now face a crisis: deciding which tomes of my extensive collection to tote one-eighth the way around the globe.  Zafon’s Shadow of the Wind.  Mark Twain.  Sherlock Holmes.  Count of Monte Cristo.  Or Alan Bradley’s The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (Dagger Award winner.  I heard it was quite good.).  And then there’s my Naruto manga . . .   All I know is that I must bring something or stranded by earthquake or fire, I might find myself a little put out.

A library is like an island in the middle of a vast sea of ignorance, particularly if the library is very tall and the surrounding area has been flooded — Lemony Snicket

Ah hell . . . I’ll probably just end up bringing them all.  Worst case, I’ll try to slip a few tomes in Dasad’s bags before we leave.  He probably won’t mind if displace a few socks or jeans in the process.  The airline will simply lose it en route anyway, and then we’ll have an excellent excuse to replenish our supply (and perhaps a few new additions) at some California bookstores.  If I manage to make it back in one piece, safe travels and good perspectives to you all on your own summer vacations this year!

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime. — Mark Twain

Word Families

bookopen2Every family possesses a language all its own, independent of its own nation, region, or race. Here in the U.S. despite the fact that we all (supposedly) speak the same tongue, we rarely understand one another. As Mark Twain reminds us during one of his visits to France: In Paris they simply stared when I spoke to them in French; I never did succeed in making those idiots understand their language. Perhaps French families teach their children a different form of the language then our American textbooks teach us.

Our family is no different; in a house of eight kids (give or take several) and two frazzled adults (not to mention aunts, uncles, cousins, and a multitude of friends), our home rivals the population of a small mid-west town. As such, variations in language emerge everyday to confuse and bewilder those foolish enough to believe that vocabulary should remain static. The following represents only a small chunk of aberrations of speech typical of the Murphey family:


A – (noun) abbreviation for ass or mule, an irritating individual

Etymology – a truly worthless substitution used by Mother Murphey in order to insult someone like my brother Sean without being crude (i.e. actually saying the word ‘ass’). Though the insult endures despite the replaced terminology, Mom still affirms that it is a much politer method to degrade an insufferable twit.


Mo-gift – (noun) a gift or present given to another solely for the benefit of the giver (presumably because both individuals live together)

Etymology – derived from the Christmas gifts given by my Aunt Mo, such as a blender to her husband, an iron to her daughter, and a Steel Magnolias DVD to her son


Ijit – (noun) A poor driver (i.e. one who drives too slowly, cuts others off, sidles between two lanes, drives without headlights in the rain, or generally reads, texts, shaves, applies makeup, picks nose, cleans car, or checks email all while driving)

Etymology – typically an ijit applies only to others never the speaker regardless of how many infractions he or she commits while condemning others.


Warsh – (verb) to clean, wipe clear

Etymology – origin unknown; however, Mom affirms that this word is quite common across the country (none of my college friends can confirm this despite their state of birth). Often mispronounced by the general public as ‘wash’ (note the absence of the ‘r’); after years of usage, this word earned several younger Murpheys poor scores on their Spelling Bee’s

See Also: Warshington D.C., Warshinton state, General George Warshington


Moth-van-bush-wooken – (part.) to shove up in one’s face

Etymology – created by Pat’s good friend Matthew, who irritated by the tendency of ESPN newscasters to make up words (i.e. winningest) wished to illustrate just how easy it is to report the sports when proper diction is no longer required.


Which-come – (noun) a missing object; a lost tool or instrument so well hidden that its very name eludes the speaker

Etymology – My family’s word for anything we cannot remember: “Ok, so we have our hammer, nail gun, and the jigsaw . . . where’s that whichcome I left here?” “Your iced tea is behind you, Dad.”


Japanese porn – (noun) manga or anime

Etymology – Sigh. Ok, so one little misunderstanding and my hobby deteriorates into an activity for freaks or deviants . . . anyway, term derived by Murph’s brothers and sisters after browsing through some Love Hina comics he had received for Christmas. Despite my constant and continued protests, this appellation continues. I am so sorry Mr. Miyazaki.