Neologism

I got this without a link to the original. I was crying from laughing so hard by the time I was done.
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Once again, The Washington Post has published the winning submissions to its yearly neologism contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternative meanings for common words.

The winners are:

1. Coffee (n.), the person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.
3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.
5. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent.
6. Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.
7. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.
8. Gargoyle (n), olive-flavored mouthwash.
9. Flatulence (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.
10. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.
11. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.
12. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
13. Pokemon (n), a Rastafarian proctologist.
14. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.
15. Frisbeetarianism (n.), (back by popular demand): The belief that, when you die, your soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
16. Circumvent (n.), an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.

The Washington Post's Style Invitational also asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.
Here are this year's winners:

1. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
3. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.
4. Giraffiti (n): Vandalism spray-painted very high.
5. Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
6. Inoculatte (v): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
7. Hipatitis (n): Terminal coolness.
8. Osteopornosis (n): A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)
9. Karmageddon (n): its like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
10. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
11. Glibido (v): All talk and no action.
12. Dopeler effect (n): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.
13. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.
14. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
15. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you're eating.

And the pick of the literature:

16. Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an asshole.

Income inequality

Just got sent this. It's long, but worth it. The section about the impact of lone-parenting confirms some strong suspicions I've had for years, but the data is striking.

Gaming with children

This may be a bit hard to follow if you've never played the phenomenal game called Formula DE, but I love playing games with my kids and I figured I'd share this wonderful experience from this past weekend.

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Having kids, as any geek-gaming parent will tell you, is fraught with, well, less gaming. At least until they start growing up and soak in the gaming bug. Not that they can avoid it, the poor dears; I mean, how could they?

Well, mine couldn't, considering it's my biggest hobby and my 300 games are all proudly displayed in our living room. There's a process to it, where they start with fondling components, then playing made-up rules, then playing simplified rules, then...

... well, then my 7 year old son proposes we play Formula De. And his 5 year old sister pipes up saying "I want to play Formola too! with the real rules!"

I admit that my initial reaction was not the best; I mean, she doesn't normally have the patience or wherewithal to play games in a "serious" way. But then I remembered that she has been growing up recently - they have a tendency to do that - and has been kicking our collective behinds in Cheeky Monkey playing "by the rules" and even going one better by attempting to get an unauthorized peek at her selections.

Well, why not, let's give it a shot. I pull the game out, then remember I recently acquired the Chicago/Sebring track from the newly editioned Formula D. As my eyes briefly lock onto it, so do my son's as he has already learned to look where I look because when it comes to gaming I seem to look in places where stuff is happening or is going to happen even if no one else seems to notice, the little brat. Sorry, smart little guy.

"Hey dad, is that a new track? let's play the new track!"

I guess we're playing the new track.

Put it on the table, went to the restroom, came back with the shrink off the new track. One thing that really sucks with kids is that at some point, they become afflicted with your own surprisingly contagious tendency to want to pull the shrink off and punch stuff out - and they don't wait for anyone. Grrr. My son even tried smelling boxes but apparently that's one oddity that is not contagious.

He knows the rules, but my daughter did not, so I explain them. She listens. Like, the whole way through. She even asked a couple of clarification questions. I mean, she was like this newly created gamer, for heaven's sake! even my son seemed a bit surprised.

We each got two cars - she got red, of course, I took white, my son chose yellow. He's been choosing yellow ever since he figured it was my favorite playing color. In response, I almost took away all his legos for like, an hour, but instead chose to sulk. Regularly.

We rolled for placement. Little one got first and third, middle one got fourth and last, big hulking menacing scary dad-thing got second and fifth. No one stalled, no one had a flying start, and the race began.

I don't remember much except that somehow by half race, my daughter had both cars in the lead, having careened through corners with absolutely number-perfect cornering - err, die rolls - my son hanging behind her by a thread with a car that was riding on something akin to rubber paste and with smoke billowing through bent brake rotors, and daddy way, way, way behind with two perfect, unblemished, paint-still-shining cars driven by morons. Yes, that's what my son called my drivers.

And he had every right to, really.

So daddy upped his game, and started ignoring all safety rules, driving rules, racing rules, and the middle pedal. Slowly but surely, those two white cars closed in on the rest - well, truth be told, we cut the lead of the fourth place car from two corners to one. The first two cars were so far ahead we only heard about them on the pit radio, where my crew were saying things like "hey, moron, looks like tortoise is gonna lose this one!"

Right.

But then - salvation! a yellow car went one too far and spun out. The other yellow car almost crashed into that one, and both white cars nosed ahead of them. The red cars were right up ahead, we could even see their tails. We looked victoriously through our helmets at the yellow car drivers, tears filling their eyes, and felt awfully smug. Well, kinda sorry too, but a race is a race!

Except that we then got a little excited and spun out too. That same yellow car driver was shrieking hysterically at us as he passed by waving. The other one was still trying to recover from his spin, but then spun out again and crashed, but by that time it didn't matter.

Both red cars finished first and second, with a comfortable lead. Yellow was third, but seemed happy enough because whites took fourth and fifth.

And my daughter? the glint in eyes assured me she would be racing again.

Board game categories

I love the definition of war games.

Being a board game geek myself, this had to be shared.

Miracle in Berkeley

So today I went down for a meeting in Berkeley, and on the way back stopped at one of my favorite establishments, being the game store Eudemonia on University Ave in berkeley.

I got out of my car, put in the quarter I had for 12 minutes of parking, and went into the store to look for a particular game. While that wasn't available they had a sale table with some nice games for 30-40% off, and I decided to browse and see what might be worth picking up.

So I got a couple of extra quarters, went back to the car, and got another 24 minutes of parking. My little ticket said it will expire on 1:56PM.

I went back to the store, browsed, picked up some games, paid and left at what looked like 1:54PM (it was just across the street). I saw a parking maid car looping around the corner further down the street, but did not feel alarmed. Crossed the street and got to my car - and I had a ticket. My watch was just clicking over to 1:57PM. My AT&T time signal was still saying 1:56PM, but as I was staring at it incredulously, it switched over too.

Apparently the maid's time signal was 2 minutes ahead of mine, so I got that $40 ticket (essentially wiping out the savings from the purchase). Yes, I was pushing it, no doubt, but it still felt really wrong.

I was really upset about this, it felt extremely unfair, but Berkeley is... well... it's like the bay area's West Hollywood or Beverly Hills when it comes to parking tickets. Once you've gotten one, it's like the tax man, you ain't getting out of it.

I was fuming all the way to lunch with K, but she managed to calm me down enough to at least be able to breath again. Then she said "if it would make you feel better, for having taken action, why don't you go down there and complain?" it's what I was wanting to do but felt stupid.

I drove back to downtown Berkeley, found the parking enforcement building - no surprises, it was bigger than the courthouse next to it - and waited in line. Then my turn came. I went to the counter, and explained what happened. The lady there said I'd have to contest the ticket, and gave me the forms, but I held on and looked at her and said something along the lines of "let's be real, if I do that I won't get anywhere, and we both know it."

Something in her eyes shifted and she looked at me with something akin to pity. Then she said "would you like to talk to a supervisor?". I said sure, maybe they can help.

So she turns to the lady sitting next to her and asks her what she thinks. I was a bit shocked but managed to utter a few words but as I was doing that the supervisor was looking at the ticket and my parkings slips, and then she stopped me, looked at the clerk and said "it's just 2 minutes, dismiss the ticket".

I think it took me several seconds to find my voice again.

In that time she made sure to tell me that I should calibrate my watch to the meter next time I park. I was still dumbfounded as I realized how easy that solution would be.

But the best thing for me was not the dismissal of the ticket. What made me feel really good was that I managed to go through this entire conversation without raising my voice or getting upset, but instead just pleading my case, tenuous as it may be. If you've known me, you would know this was a huge personal win for me. I hope - I truly want - to learn from it.

And to Ms. Brooks of the Berkeley parking division, I want to extend my gratitude. Not just for saving me a $40 ticket that felt unfair, but more importantly, but teaching me a fantastic lesson in a way no other could match. My brain may have been rewired a little bit today to being more calm in these situations in the future. And that alone is worth far more than the $40.

So thank you, Ms. Brooks. What you did today will likely reverberate through the next 50 years of my life, and impact many, many others with whom I will come in contact with. Thank you.

Isn't it ironic...

... don't you think?* **

*(yes, yes, thank you Alanis for that line)
** if you don't feel like clicking, it now appears to have been proven that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the Iranian president, was born Jewish

Great

TSH 4.41
THYROGLOBULIN ANTIBODY 34
THYROPEROXIDASE >1100 (!)

Nice. I suppose it was bound to happen at some point. And so I welcome...

My second chronic disease.

Yippee.

At least it's a much cooler sounding than diabetes - subclinical hyperthyroidism.