Word Week Concluded

...Because 'round here, a week has ten or eleven days in it.

Today, I'd like to talk about spelling.

No, I mean the spelling that DOESN'T involve a transgendered skank-mutant.

Some people are ardent supporters of correct spelling and grammar. They will go out of their (not there or they're) way to point out the spelling deficiencies of others, often in the most dickish ways possible. They seem to take pleasure in correcting even the slightest verbal misstep.

I am one of those assholes.

It's kinda hard to make me out in the background...

I came by my quirky (read: shitty) habit honestly. My mother was an English major in college (undergrad), and has a Master's in Journalism. I wasn't allowed many liberties with language growing up. Words like "ain't" and phrases like "all of a sudden" were verboten. I was always encouraged to find another word to use in place of profanity. And so I played by the rules.

Perhaps that's why later in life I've come to enjoy playing fast and loose with words.
"All of a sudden, rules ain't SHIT, mom."

"NO DANGLING PARTICIPLES!!"

No, my mother is a very sweet woman, and thanks to her tutelage when I was young, I today find myself able to talk to a wide variety of people from different backgrounds with ease. So it worked out pretty well.

But back to spelling, and the correctness of it, and how it is one of my obsession points. I know quite a few smart people, people who have mastered smart person subjects like physics and linear regressions and chemistry. Theez peepel cannt spel fur sh!t. And it isn't even as if people have a decent excuse for misspelling words these days. Almost every computer application known to man now has incorporated at least a rudimentary spell-checker to point out any suspected misspellings (usually in red).

Hell this entry alone has a few.

Apparently, there is NO chance I was trying to spell 'skunk'.

I think Swank Shank Stank Spank is now officially the name of my fledgling rock band. Or maybe it's a children's book than I'm going to write.

But before I set off to change the world of kid's literary fiction, I thought I'd point out a few words that have caused me some problems in the past. The first is the word 'ofter'. It is an actual word, although I had no idea of that the first time I typed it by accident (I can't remember if I was angling to type 'often' or 'after'), and as such, spell check didn't catch it. But my coworkers did, and they made me feel the sting of being a grammar and spelling prick in the past, and I suppose I had earned that.
...
Still, here's the "logic" that my mind refuses to track: Some programming egghead put a never-used twelfth-century word like 'ofter' into spell-checker's library, but neglected to include 'skank'.

The other work that repeatedly caused me problems was 'inconvenience'. Not because of some corny joke like "It's really inconvenient to spell inconvenience", but rather because of what happens when you spell that word as 'inconvienence'. Back in the early part of this decade, I had my work email set up to automatically check for and fix any spelling errors. The phrase "I apologize for any inconvienence this may have caused" is what I wrote. Once the spell-checker did its job, the phrase "I apologize for any incontinence this may have caused" is the sentiment I sent company-wide.

Not my finest moment.

As this photo (sent to me from my friend's wife) clearly illustrates, spelling is becoming less important in today's society. Even in the hallowed halls of education.

Shoe polish: one of the last holdouts for intergrated spell-check.

I blame texting/twittering for the dismal state of people's attention to spelling.
But then again, I blamed my last sinus infection on that too.
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I thought of two more words that sound dirty but aren't:
Succulent
Rectify

Oh, also
Tutelage
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Word Week Continued

Thermal imaging of Uranus has revealed that it is surrounded by wrinkly, stinky, inflamed rings.

For the second part of Word Week, I'd like to know what words you think sound dirty, even though they clearly aren't.

Some of my MANY favorites include but aren't limited to:

congenital
crotchety
titillating
testy
prickly
cocky
masticate
probate
duty

Which ones did I leave off my list?

[edit] I forgot concocted.
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Also, I thought of another spoonerism, but this time it is someone's name:
Kurt Cobain

My Point Is...

I was talking to a friend last night, and began a sentence thusly: "I was reading something recently... No wait... Maybe I saw it in a Burger King commercial. It doesn't matter. My point is..."

My friend wisely cut me off at this point, and suggested that perhaps it DID matter where I learned whatever dubious facts I was preparing to unleash, especially if I was going to use them to illustrate a point.

I countered by pointing out that whether I gained "knowledge" from a textbook or from the ghoulish plastic grin of the BK King, if I never ran the core idea all the way back to its headwaters to check for validity, I was just taking someone else's word for it anyway.

"But Burger King always has an agenda when they 'teach you facts.' They want to sell you burgers, and are motivated by profit. Science is only motivated by more science."

"Tell that to the scientists who shouted down Wegener. At least Burger King's motives are out in the open. But my point is... Dammit, I forgot. Now all I can think of is how much I want a cheeseburger."
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I sometime find it hard to put myself in another's shoes. Still, I'm fairly certain that if I was behind the wheel of that car pictured below, I'd be doing donuts on bloody monkey pelts.

Earth's two most wretched mammals interact.

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Rolling Stones - Loving Cup
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"Krëg, you're such a negative person." (said pot)
"I am NOT!" (said kettle)

Word Week

This week I'm going to try and throw out a few posts centered around the theme of wordplay.

Today's topic will be spoonerisms. What's a spoonerism? Well according to the highly reliable Wiki entry, it's when you flip some sounds between two words. Some times it is inadvertent display of drunken idiocy, like when my banjo player used the expression dougle nebative. Some times it is a deliberate verbal twisting employed for humorous purposes, like when someone says 'bass ackwards'.

Every so often, a spoonerism will still be a real word once (or before) it is flipped, and I find these manifestations particularly delicious.

Three of my favorites of this last type:
sick duck
pop corn
bunt cake

How about you? Got a favorite?

Friday Photos

I think Blogger has been treating me worse than the asthmatic kid in gym class lately. I have a sneaking suspicion that it hasn't been reflecting my past few updates. Even the asthmatic kid eventually gets picked for kickball. But whatever.

I was cleaning off my camera, and found a few images I'd taken with the express purpose of sharing them here.

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My dogs prepared a surprise for me Monday while I was at work. I was not as enthusiastic about the end result as they were.
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The phrase "Hey, let's go back to my place and jam for a while! We'll get some beer on the way!" sounds like a good idea when the bartender announces last call. It seems decidedly less so in the harsh light of Sunday morning.
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If you're going to be in the bathroom messing with something for a half-hour, it might as well be your heavy brass ballcock.
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After hooking up your waterline to your new refrigerator, it's probably wise to examine the first few cycles from the ice maker instead of just blindly dropping them into your drink.
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When describing your excitement over a newly acquired twenty-four channel mixer, it is not considered socially acceptable to utter the phrase "If that thing had a vagina, I'd be fucking it RIGHT NOW!" People tend to look at you funny when you say things like that. But it is 277 knobs of raw sexy.
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Have a good weekend

Weak End To The Weekend Left Me Weakened

Here at this travesty of a blog, I like to stay on top of things. That's why you'll get an update about my previous weekend by mid-week if you're lucky. I'm on the stick like that.

As my weekend was long, and filled with more alcohol than I'm accustomed to drinking, I figured I'd just hit the high points.


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Friday's favorite quote:
"Nice suit." - me to the guy who wore a ribbed douche-shirt instead of a suit (or even a collared shirt and tie) to a FUNERAL. His wife looked pretty pissed at my remark, but he didn't seem to care.

Like this, except two sizes too small, so it looked like he stole it from an eight-year-old's closet.

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Saturday's favorite quote:
"My cesarean scar makes my torso look like The Joker." - a very nice girl I was talking to in a bar Saturday night. I assumed she wasn't talking about the Steve Miller Band song, but after the remark, I didn't offer to confirm that suspicion.

♫ Some call me the skanskster of love... ♪

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Sunday's favorite quote:
"We have Pepsi, Dr. Pepper, Mountain Dew, and Sierra Mist." - my waitress at the restaurante autentico after I asked her for a Coke. This would not have seemed strange if my friend had not JUST ordered a Coca Cola from her three seconds prior without incident. After my friend and I exchanged puzzled looks, I ordered an iced tea. We weren't there for the Mexican Coca-Cola anyway (made with real sugar instead of high fructose corn syrup), but instead came in trying to cure our hangovers with menudo.

Not this menudo, the one made from beef stomach instead of sweaty mullets.

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Other weekend highlights include:

*A trip to the local Asian market, where I discovered I could finally purchase ingredients that had eluded me at other stores. Including but not limited to: duck heads, beef spleens, and hog uteri. You read that correctly. Uteri. Asian people eat some nasty things ... said the man who ate menudo for Sunday brunch.

*The National Rifle Association called to solicit funds, and backed their pleas with TOTAL LIES. I know this because I was sitting in front of my computer when they called, and I know how to use Google. When I asked Shawn why he called me just to lie, all he could do was stammer and ask for more money.

*I fixed a Hammond 103 that one of my bandmates scored for free (because it didn't work). Twenty minutes of tinkering under the hood, cleaning old vacuum tubes, and hand-massaging the tonewheel back to life, and he had the most rockin garage on the block.

*I became debilitatingly ill Sunday evening...the one night I didn't drink my ass off.

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Here's some tracks:

John Lee Hooker - One Bourbon, One Scotch, One beer.

Todd Snider - Talking Seattle Grunge Rock Blues.

James Blunt - Fall At Your Feet (Crowded House cover).


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And here's me in PROPPER funeral attire...


What's the bare minimum you'd wear to a funeral?

Words Are Overrated

Make your own warning sign HERE.

No Stone Unturned...

And no turn unstoned.



I like to tell myself that I'd be willing to try anything at least once. Hang gliding, surfing, donating to charity, skydiving, voting Green Party, typing with my nose, oor unmjprotwecvtedf bjvusttrsetx wuithj strr4ipp4ers; I'll give it a shot at least once. "I'll seek adventure in ANY corner," I cheerfully tell myself, often while enthusiastically seated on the couch in my underwear.

Even still, every so often I find something like Twitter or haggis that instantly repulses me, something I can honestly say I have no desire to try even once. I generally find myself shocked that someone else not only wanted to try it, but often would do it repeatedly. To boot, these people are doing it without being threatened or compensated. My feeble mind boggles.



Such is the case with people who put massive amounts of bees on their bare flesh.

Be it camping, picnicking, fishing, or flipping on my kitchen light after three in the morning, I've been around many bugs before in many various settings. I can't say that I remember bugs contributing anything positive to any of those moments, although admittedly I get pretty drunk every time I go fishing, and I often black out for a while. I suppose bugs could do something awesome while I am passed out and silently crapping my pants.

I will grant that honey is a pretty cool by-product of bee colonies. Apparently due to bacteria's inability to grow inside of it, some honey has a shelf life of a few thousand years. Furthering honey's coolness, ancient Egyptians applied it to open wounds as an amazingly effective antibiotic ointment. Also, with the right mixture of honey, water, and brewer's yeast, you can make a mead with an alcohol content higher than Nick Nolte. Finally, it is a great way to spice up the bedroom, if you catch my meaning. So honey is pretty awesome.

But bees are not. Bees are crawly, stingy, fly-y insects. Plus, some breeds enjoy randomly killing anything that crosses their path. They're kind of dicks that way.



I understand that some bees (including the honeybee) are important to plant pollination. They fill a niche in the ecosystem that can't be synthesized. So without specifically admitting that bees are cool, I can admit that they are necessary, and see why scientists were concerned when large bee populations unexpectedly died or vanished over the past few years.

Still, I've been trying to comprehend the compulsion to cover oneself with them. I've had a June bug or two land on me in my lifetime, and I can't say that the sensation of their creepy legs gripping at my skin was anything remotely pleasant, much less enjoyable. I can't image wanting to magnify that sensation by a few thousand.

But some people do. Probably because they are clinically insane.




Speaking of clinically insane, now I'd like to take a few minutes and caption pictures of people covered in bees:

"I was going to wear a helmet, but I figured if I fell over I was a dead man anyway..."

Dave was only two swallows into his drink when he began to suspect someone had switched his Newcastle for raw nectar.

"No operator, its still there. It's more like a low-pitched buzzing noise. Are technicians working on the lines?"

At hookups.com your first five matches are free. Even so, they'll all be horrible disappointments.

Head & Shoulders new Spring Pollen scented shampoo is a bit TOO effective.

Dear Mom and Dad: Lake Chapananus Summer Camp sucks rodent dongs. Next year I'd rather stay home and take stupid violin lessons.

Look dear, all I'm saying is that maybe you should get out of the house more. You know, try to be more active. Go for a walk or hang out with your friends.

"And then I said, 'Five Dollars for nose plugs?!? What, do I look like a total pussy? Kiss my ass!' Then the guy behind the counter gave me the finger."

After seeing the photos, the judge wasted no time granting Ichiko an annulment.

Karl learns the hard way why you should never play the note Bbmin diminished when outdoors.

And why only bees? Is it because they are the only insect humans deliberately cultivate? Why don't I ever see some guy with a beard of cockroaches, or some chick covered in a seething mass of fleas (who isn't a self-proclaimed "free-spirited hippie from Oregon")?

Patience, ladybugs... Your day will come.

In conclusion:

1) Bees are not to be worn in place of or in addition to clothing.

2) I'm proud of myself for not using a SINGLE bee pun in this entire post.

3) Typing with my nose was more difficult and painful than I suspected.

No Results Found

Per Google:

No results found for "mayonnaise slingshot".

Apparently, I'm the only person in the world who thinks it would awesome to pelt someone from afar with whipped sandwich spread. Or at least, I'm the only one who both thinks it would be awesome and ALSO hasn't had their access to a computer restricted by the court system.

And I have to ask myself, 'Is a slingshot the correct ballistic delivery system for weaponized mayonnaise? Would a catapult work better?'

Thank God I'm not the only crazy person on the interwebs, and most of the other crazies make me look stable and grounded.

I wish I could tell you where this came from and why, but I'm only a Level 3 Crazy, and that is more like a Level 12.

"You Shouldn't Be Allowed To Have Kids..."

I was recently told that I shouldn't be allowed to have kids. Or maybe it was that I shouldn't be allowed around children. Or maybe it was both. Further, in what seems to be a common occurrence, it wasn't any physical action that precipitated the "No kids for Krëg!" sentiment, but rather the colorful selection of my few contributions to the conversation.

I was a mostly silent part of a three party conversation about someone's forthcoming planned family vacation to Branson, MO. I was mostly silent because I mostly can't stand Branson.

As a brief aside, perhaps I should throw a little candlelight into the dark corner of my mind where my feelings about Branson live. Due to cost, location, and family-themed entertainment, it is a popular destination (in these parts) for many families. The town fills a need of the people, namely that of cheap entertainment utterly devoid of anything controversial.

Branson is what happens when you take a fun, exciting "destination" town like New Orleans or Bangkok and then bleach away everything that was considered unwholesome by 1953 standards (yes, even the tranny strippers). Their nuclear age mindset is so out of step with regular society, I think they still disparagingly use the word "Negro" in some areas. However, that suspicion is difficult to gauge, as most citizens will never have reason to use that word. It isn't that minorities are not allowed anywhere inside certain sections of the county, but rather that most minorities have the good sense to avoid Branson in the first place, and instead go someplace fun.

While racial discrimination is terrible, it isn't what makes me scream internally when I think of Branson. That honor goes to the overwhelming lameness of the whole area, a lameness which for most folks is Branson's biggest selling point. Need a place to take your family that is devoid of any possible unsavory influences? Branson is the place. Looking for a vacation location with no homelessness or crime, saving you from the uncomfortable task of explaining to your children "why that man looks so dirty" or "why you locked the car doors"? Branson. Don't want to have your conservative assumptions challenged in ANY way? Branson. Think life should mirror a Norman Rockwell painting? Branson. Think your genitals are ONLY for conceiving children? Branson. Don't want to think too hard about anything you see or hear? Branson.



Quiz time!
Which of these two photos do you think was taken in Branson?

More teeth = more value. And that show is the toothiest.

Point of fact, I have no idea where either of these two pictures were actually taken, but I can say with extreme confidence that you'll find only one of these bands performing in Branson, and it won't be the Sex Pistols. In fact, I'm pretty sure Sid Vicious's death from overdose was just a clever plan to get out of having to play there. Smart move on his part.

Horrible L7 acts just litter the town. Take a look for yourself. Pretty damn terrible lineup for anyone with even a sliver of a soul. In past years, similar square talent has included Yakov Smirnoff (no relation to the equally sucky vodka), Andy Williams, ...

...and John "Mutherfuckin" Davidson.

When I think of the living embodiment of the expression "off the hook," only one face comes to mind...

"John? Yeah, we're getting some complaints about you holding a black phallus up to your face. No, no. WE don't have a problem with it, but some little old ladies are complaining. I know, I know, I thought your old-lady-hairstyle would mollify them too, but no dice. Apparently, holding a phallus that close to your lips keeps dragging up thoughts of the 'sins' of their youth, and not just because it's black. CAN SOMEONE GET MR. DAVIDSON A BOTTLED WATER WHILE I GO FIRE SOMEONE IN WARDROBE?"

"Hey! That's better! A nice, non-threatening guita... wait, why is it covered in girlish flowers? And did you put on LIP GLOSS?!? What the HELL, John! ALL RIGHT PEOPLE LET'S BREAK FOR LUNCH WHILE I HAVE A LITTLE TALK WITH OUR 'TALENT'."

Yeah, panties all over the stage. Septuagenarians climbing on top of the PA speakers and jumping off. Walkers and hoverrounds in the mosh pit. Roadies and crew threatened with knitting needles. Just the most extreme concert experience ever.

At any rate, the lameness pretty much makes Branson a non-destination for me. At least until I reach a point in my life where I have a few kids and only a handful of cash to blow on a family vacation. I'm sure I'll be singing the praises of Branson then. Alleluia. Amen.

Oddly, the post header proclamation that I should not breed did not arise from my silent fulminations about Sucktown. All the Branson conversation did was cause me to wonder how many times bile could climb my gullet, be choked back down, and STILL be considered bile. Four? Seven?

Fortunately for me, the conversation soon turned to a more palatable subject: pornography. The coworker remarked that every time they cross the border into Missouri, there are a few last stop/first stop roadside porn shacks that her two boys always point out.

Yeah, that's when I started chiming in...

"You should totally stop there, just to mess with your kids," I advised. "Wait, how old are they?"

13 and 15.

"Oh yeah, they have senses of humor by now. You and your husband should pull up to the first skin shack you see. 'You kids wait in the car! Momma and Pa are gonna go fetch some sweaty movies!'."

Yeah, that'd be pretty crazy.

"You could go inside and only ask for the largest sack they have, then act like it is weighed down with purchases when you leave the store thirty seconds later. Drag it between your legs like it is too heavy to lift."

My husband and I could each grab a handle and act like we're struggling to move it!

"Yes! Your sons would admire both the speed at which you pornshop, and the way you buy in bulk! Hey, can't your oldest drive?"

Yes. A little bit.

"You should make him circle the block, like you actually have some shame or something. I mean, he'll eventually have to learn how to drive in circles around the porn block anyway. He may as well start polishing that skill set now. Plus, think of the awesome stories he'll be able to tell his friends and children in the coming years... 'Yeah, I got pulled over for underage driving when I was fifteen. Mom and dad were buying The Legend Of Assblaster while I was circling the block.'"

You shouldn't be allowed to have kids.

"I know."