Random Musings on a cold octorber night.

Sometimes the world hates you. You can either run from it, or stare it down and tell it to go f%&k itself. Now the latter option is my preferred way to go as running and burying your head in the sand is for cowards and Kenyans. The go f%&k itself option has several branches, however and one must be careful not to choose the wrong one. Game of chess it is. If chess involved table flipping and fires. Which it does when played properly... ‘grandpa’... There’s the standard stand your ground, don’t give an inch and stare them down. There’s the softer give a little, remain true but some compromise is warranted if their intentions are reasonable, and so on and so forth. My favourite, and ‘go to’ option however is the rather unpopular disproportionate escalation.

I say unpopular in that others aren’t fans of this type of conflict resolution. The idea of making the repercussions for any infraction so unbelievably horrifying that no one would dare cross you ever may seem initially appealing and fun for all, but in reality it takes a lot out of you. Patrick for example made a silly comment about a cousin of mine and in response I nearly collapsed his trachea and made him apologise to her and her family before removing my foot from his neck. ‘That seems like a reasonable response’. And you would be correct pokaroo, but that wasn’t the resolution. That was simply the immediate response. (he still claims to be unable to swallow properly) The actual response came somewhat later when his protein powder was cut with estrogen and ecstasy... His iron pumping sessions at the gym degraded into crying humpfests with Technicolor dragons pretty quick... Anywhoo, that was just a playful response to a simple comment. Had he actually had malicious intent and not just made a thoughtless comment, he’d be a lady right now, on the sex offender’s registry, waking up without eyelids in a room filled with coke and strangers blood to the sounds of approaching sirens and all the doors and windows locked.

Now Patrick is afraid to even take a French fry when offered. His response is ‘I’m going to take a bite and you’re going to r$%^ my mother’ to which I respond ‘I would r%#$ your father. Just to prove a point. You could live with it if it was your mother, with counselling and all that, but your father, you’d have to see him everyday and look into his dead eyes... imagine it Patrick...’ And he does and he gets a little misty. Bless his little heart. What can I say? Hobbies are fun. And God knows if and when I settle down, there won’t be as much time for this type of thing, so I should really get this stuff out of my system now.

I know what you’re thinking; ‘Newsy, a big important awesomeologist working for a middling media company like you must have swarms of ladies all over you all the time... surely that settling down time is rapidly approaching?’ Good question pokaroo. Well I’ll tell you, I like to employ the sharp stick strategy. ‘Wait... the sharp.. what?’ that’s right pokaroo. You’ve no doubt heard the saying ‘he’ll have to beat them off of him with a pointy stick!’, well i’ve taken it to heart. Some call it a broken broom handle I’ve whittled into a point, but after a few sharp jabs in the ribs, they call it whatever I want. And what I want it called is pickles. ‘...you named your giant shiv pickles?...’ That’s right pokaroo. And pickles is goddamned magic. Sharpstickery is a wonderful word you should all get used to several readers as I make up words a lot and they’re all awesome.

I am a wordsmith. Also other types of ‘---smith’ but wordsmith is definitely at the top. Maybe only surpassed in fame by my status as a ‘revengesmith’ after ‘incident orange’ (to be discussed at a later date), but that’s neither here nor there. Often, I find that the English language is limited in its emotional range and have to draw upon other languages to find the appropriate word. For love, naturally I drift to French. For anger, Klingon. However there are times where no language possesses the words which adequately describe whatever I’m feeling at that particular moment and I am forced to create a new word. Frustrangerful was a fun one. But sometimes, better than creating new words is cramming two existing words together. Portmanteau’ing’ as it were. They are awesome. They are portmanteawesome. Recently, as I’ve been spending a great deal of time with our lawyer Ralph (who happens to be black. And aggressively so) I’ve taken quite the shine to portmanteauing ‘black’ and whatever other word I’m using. Usually descriptive words of Ralph himself. For example: angry, lawyer, awesome, attractive, aggressive become: ‘blangry’, ‘blawyer’, ‘blawesome’, ‘blattractive’, and ‘blaggressive’. I would go on and on (and i certainly do at the office), but as my nonsensical ramblings are best kept from the world it’s best I wrap up and bury them in a place no one will ever hear them... this blog. So keep it to yourself pokaroo. Our little secret... or blecret... cause pokaroo is black. If you thought he was white (or a big green giraffe sort of thing) then you’re the racist. Look at yourself in the mirror before throwing stones glass house.

I would like to take this opportunity (cause that’s totally what it is) to send my congratulations to my friend and coworker Eric and his new wife Diane, as this past Saturday, they tied the knot and are now happily married. Woooooo!