Anarking

Look at me I’m Diablo Cody

Here will be a running list of words I have contributed to the Queen’s English.

blogcock - n. a person who just goes to blogs to bash the author in the comments. “Some of my friends are total blogcocks but it’s cool since offline they just cocks.”
cockblogger - n. a blogger who bashes other bloggers on his site. “Tim is a total cockblogger, I think he sometimes just read blogs to bash them in his because his own life is so unblogworthy.”
hipsterrific - adj. something that was lame but now is cool but we all really know that it is lame and will be considered lame again in a few years. “Hey, check out that guy in the mesh John Deer hat and the Kanye West glasses, he is the most hipsterific douche bag ever, I bet he likes Sloan.
metamorphasizzle - v. to transform already pretty cool into something cooler. “I thought I was the bomb when I got rid of my acne but I metamorphasizzled into something atomic when I later got down with my first girl friend.”
redonkulous - adj. bananas, absurd, far out, super ridiculous “Flock of Seagulls sported redonkulous hair”
rediddydonkulous - adj. crazy bananas, super absurd, way far out, super duper ridiculous “My boss became head of IT but that was totally a rediddydonkulous decision cuz that trotch doesn’t even know the difference between a forum and a blog.”
sexticals- n. the hangy parts of your dirty places (can be both male and female). “As you grow older you will notice gravity doing a number on your sexticals.”
slaxor - n. slacker of the information age. “Toby goes to web club after school but never makes any websites because he is a total slaxor and rather look at girls dancing to daft punk on youtube.”

For what ails me?

So I took my girl out to see the Cure last weekend and I came to the realization that Robert Smith does not like getting old. I have liked the Cure before but I like them slightly more now because I, like Robert, also do not particularly like the idea of being old. I have slowly come to grips with it and am still wrestling with the idea that my bones are loosing calcium like Florida is loosing land mass. Throughout the weekend I had wrestled with this for quite some time and have had a few key realizations. I guess I should start with Friday night.

Friday Night…

I came home after anouther unsatisfied week at work feeling a like anouther crack has been created in the foundation of my sanity. These cracks usually occur on Fridays or at least I’d like to think they do and one day my mental levies will burst and that’s when things will get more fun for me. Hmm, does this make me sound like I’m going crazy? Can’t be most crazy people don’t know they are crazy so perhaps I am saner than most of them and can become their lizard king or some shit. OK back to Friday. I came home tired, too tired to want do to more than play some video games and sleep. As I came home Pants greeted me with the usual whines that I think translate to “Holy Cock and Balls, I have to piss like a Muslim after a water boarding session” (Pants is good with similes). So I took the bastard out then realized that perhaps the beach will help put some mortar into those aforementioned cracks. With sand wedge in hand, Pants and I were off to the beach, he needed to sniff some ass and I needed to improve my bunker recovery. Success on both ends. As Robert Smith sang “You make me feel like I am young again”, perhaps he has a Pants as well.

Saturday…

was particularly nice. Pants again with the demands of urination made me go outside and enjoy the morning. As I sat on the picnic table that came with my backyard that came with my house that came with my mortgage, I realized that I have strayed far and wide from my punk rock ideologies. I was no longer the gutter punk of my New York past but I have metomorphasizzled into what I dub a bitter punk. A punk no longer in tune with the virtues and morals that Leftover Crack preaches but more of the new breed of old punks who think the nu punks are a bunch of idiots and deserve a good cock punch for listening to Good Charlotte and Green Day and the rest of that corprotrash. Pants agrees with me on this stance. So there I was the bitter punk loitering in my own backyard watching Pants growl at squirrels and run in circles. I began thinking of how much I enjoy not doing anything and the sun, especially the sun. This lead to the realization that I need more of the sun than my current local can provide so I need to ditch this mortgage and head out west or the islands or the south (hopefully not the south). Later that night I went to see the Cure and sat flanked by Mr. Mohawk who was lip singing to almost every song and I think shed a tear as some point and my wife acting in the same way. It’s funny how similar actions can be creepy or cute based on gender and overall appearance. Behind me was some douche who was about 1 bird call away from having my fist stamp “dick” into his forehead. That night was when Mr. Smith agreed with me that getting old sucks but does not change the fact that you can still be what you were when you started whatever it is that you started back when you were young. Plus being a bitter punk means saying “bullocks” to aging gracefully.

Sunday…

I’m in love (by that I mean I put on lipstick and eye shadow, kept the bed head, and danced around naked in front of my wife while she was on the phone with her mom who kept asking why we don’t have babies yet).