A drinking game that needs to happen solely because of its name
QUAFF THE HOOK: meaning “drink the hook,” presumably referring to some brand of Red Hook, and rhyming with “off the hook” (or perhaps being a portmanteau of “Quite off the hook,” which preserves the Britishish aspect of the word “quaff”).
I really don’t care what the rules are. It can even be a Calvinball can’t-play-it-the-same-way-twice sort of thing. But it needs to happen.
If you know a microbrewer who needs to propose marriage to his or her genderfriend, suggest that they do so by making a beer called “My Wily Rumor Ale” and serving it to their significant other, then waiting for an answer.
(Note: the process will go a lot faster if this significant other is dyslexic or has played lots of Scrabble.)
When making a new LaTeX file (math typesetting document) out of an old one, I hold down the Command button (ctrl, for you Windows types) with my thumb, and lazily let my other fingers wander through A-C-W-N-V-T (Highlight all, copy, close document, new document, paste, typeset). It’s purty satisfying.
In the Yaghan language of Tierra del Fuego, “mamihlapinatapai” means “a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something that they both desire but which neither wants to begin.”
If that fit on a candy heart, it would be the cutest shy Valentine ever.
At some point Sophomore year of college, Scott Olesen starting compiling words that are only ever used (at least ignoring Shakespeare and other such old schoolers) in conjunction with a particular set of other words, like “kith” (kith and kin) or “fell” (on fell swoop) or “wreak” (wreak havoc). By Googling all those parenthetical phrases at once and navigating my way through online wiki-convos, I managed to find
New linguistic goal: find words that end with -ing that aren’t verbs if you remove the -ing, and then make them verbs when you remove the -ing. For instance, “gloaming” means “twilight”, so “to gloam” = to become twilight or to become twilightish? I guess the sky and day can gloam, as can Midna and Link in Zelda.
Nothing —> ”to noth” = to refrain from existing (E.g., “Much to Ralph’s chagrin, AT&T coverage in Berkeley continued to noth.”)
Anything —> “to anyth” = to be arbitrary (“Throughout this paper we assume the variable x anyths.”)
Recently-learned-of-maybe-totally-awesome field of math: arithmetic dynamics. It transfers the standard dynamical systems framework to a number theoretic and algebraic context, with sexy results. Will grown-up Ralph spend his days creating crazy pictures of Collatz conjecture fractals?
Will he be driven mad by what appears to be the mathematical equivalent of seaweed?
And perhaps most importantly, will he end up a hybrid of professors Dan Look and Steve Miller? And if so, what will the tattoo situation be like?
Shattuck, one of the major avenues of Berkeley, could have arisen from “Shut the fuck up”, condensed and rearranged and Bostonly accented. (I’m imagining pronouncing it like “shaddap”, but with the final “p” replaced with a “ck”.)
Portmanteauing phrases with infixes (e.g. “the fuck”) often calls for unconventional methods, as most portmanteaus do away with the middle of a phrase, which is precisely what sets the infixed phrase apart from the original phrase.
As I now live in California rather than New England, “Wagon Wheel” by Old Crow Medicine Show is not a particularly fitting “Going back to Kentucky” song. Perhaps I shall utilize The Decemberists’ “As I Rise” (“California’s okay, but I think I might stay in the shade for a while”) mashed up against that obnoxious “Old Kentucky Home” rap song. BAH! No good. OCMS, get crackin’ on recording the following:
Happy 61st birthday, Tom Waits! Here’s hoping your voice keeps on sounding “like it was soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months, and then taken outside and run over with a car.”
Also, here’s an inexplicable picture of Tom Waits in a tree.
Aliens aren’t gonna need poison. They’re gonna be poison.
Also, my seventh grade report on the element arsenic would have been way more badass with this information. Oh, the regrets of adolescence that scientific progress has rained down upon me…
And vegue (a vague segue): yesterday someone pointed out that Canadians refer to seventh grade as “grade seven,” which was misheard as “great seven,” which became a variant upon the high-five that involves two individuals slapping one another’s hands together while each has a total of seven fingers raised. It is gloriously awkward.
Twitter-sized fiction, submitted by whomever. I dig it, if only because it provokes me to create something out of the phrase “She had grown to loathe and envy circles” (ended up being about Archimedes’ wife; poor, neglected lady).
New goal: same website, but for expressing the most complex mathematical theorems or proofs in the length of a Twitter post. Infinitude of primes: mad easy.