Review: Ankle Socks

I remember ankle socks like it was yesterday. A cool autumn-ish yesterday where we still where irony was lost on us, most dials would turn to the left (as opposed to all dials) , and people still feared the Kraken.

With this baby on the way, our whole half-word is upside down while our half whole world remains staunch in its observation. Sure and technically yes, we are still wearing ankle socks. BUT- we're not calling them ankle socks. They are just socks to us now. The novelty is more than worn off. It has disintegrated into a taste bud on a fly's tongue. Not the good taste bud that can taste hair and fear perspiration, but the even more minuscule one that recognizes between hot or cold, steam or smoke, and acid-wash or post-acid-wash.

Exposed flesh is a young man's game. It was an old women's game. Somewhere down the line between women who posed in Playboy having to find other sources of income, and Astronauts having to pose in Playboy to become a more well-rounded people- we lost what it was that which we wore to our ankles. Our ankle socks have left the nest of two-word phrases and shed it's first word skin. Leave them alone, they have work to do.

Our adult wardrobe is pile-driving my iron 'chic'

Review: Hostile Takeovers

For a name as great as Hostile Takeover leads me to believe, there is a lot of grunt work in learning what a hostile takeover actually is. Thus the situation of a definition being the worst part of a word is born. Thus the definition can be said to be the 'hostile takeover' of the term hostile takeover. 'Hostile takeover' in this situation being referred to by its new slang definition of 'when a word's definition is the worst part of the word, ie Hostile Defintition.'

Takeover is a fun enough word. So much intrigue and room for interpretation in that word. Said sternly, it could be a a rough command from the embattled pilot as he gets his women who is hopelessly in love with him to steer the plane as he goes and fights several henchmen who have parachuted on his wing/refused to die. Said with trembling, it could be a in-over-his-head teen clutching the wheel and feeling the weight, essence, and power of the Ford Xterra as he is about to pull into highway traffic for the first time. Said with spinach leafs and a wine vinaigrette, it could choke babies who haven't yet the ability to metabolize ruffage.

And hostile. Hostile should make any term more fun. Hostile Reactor, Hostile Newborn, Hostile Coach Purse, Hostile Tears running down a unruly cheek, Hostile Whistles blown by uncertain cosmotologists, Hostile Terminology used for Hostile Fun by Hostile Wet Nurses during a Hostile Vasectomy of the Hostile month of May. But hostile takeover is a corporate term which just seems redundant, I'd rather see the emotions of a friendly takeover. That's more oxymoronic for us dreamers.

In closing, the door is open. I can't mask my disdain for words that don't have feelings or representatives. Nor would I need to. It's fun to misplace emotions, much like the prestige adults place on children.

Review: the prefix of "Tri-"

I get that you get that tri- means 3. None of us are smarter and we don't know each other any better. The sound of tri- though rings clearly throughout ones ears. The clarity is due in part to three, but it feels smarter. Like subconsciously knowing how to load a shotgun, or knowing what every flavor of jellybean is by looking at it. Tri- just puts the automatic assumption in mind that this is more than 2. Tri- as a sound encorporates the the subtle hiss and clack of the T, the melting powers of R, and the singularly expressive selfishness of the I. Tri-. Though an air of prominence surrounds it, so does a mockingly simpleness override it. Tri- boasts up the word, while simultaneously sending a shudder of uncomfortable down its back. Triangle. Tricerion. Trialouge. Triad. Tricuspid. Triquatic. Trinambulant. Triagain. Trifigneuton. Trindersnatch. Tritard. You think you're getting somewhere with tri-, but then the ending is too much in sight to ever get past it.

Review: Monkeyshines

Monkeyshines is the bastard son of Miss Poppycock and Sir Balderdash. Bastardized by being american that is. Monkey shines roots likely stem from something racist, although it is likely just a derogatory towards monkeys in general. Being a predominantly Christian nation (as if!), we believed in the spirit of creation, and told kids evolution was when idiots lacked faith and enjoyed roust abouting too much. We hated monkey's so much, that a term "Monkeyshines" was created. Shines being in reference to attention grabbing. So when a schoolboy would galavant his confused emotions into, say, placing a tack on school madam's chair- he was compared to a less-than creature with similar human characteristics who would use slight tactics to draw attention to himself. As in "look at that monkey, that monkey is shining". My question is: why was this a bad thing? One hand says, this monkey isn't a descendant from human but it sure is having a fun time using wits about much like a human would. And the other, evolution believing, hand says that there is a common link being presented between a monkey and a boy of mischief. Sure we're degrading the boy, but aren't we in some way proclaiming the monkey's importance. The great joke on monkey shines is that the shine shines brightest on the monkey.