I was talking to the couple who are staying at Fitch Mountain Lookout the other day. We had a really good visit (or so I thought). They talked. I talked. I asked them questions. I talked some more (poor them…I didn’t explain that I’m Princess Donkey).

I told them about my blog and how much I freak over words, vocabulary, and new expressions (aka: logophile). They told me one of their friends was a character. He invents words. Really. He invents words “…to mean exactly what he wants them to mean, and nothing else.” [Humpty Dumpty in Alice in Wonderland]

So. Here it is. The word of the day today is: syphtonicmegatoid.

Mark tells me when he was younger–in his twenties and him and his buddies were going out to bars and dancing and stuff, his friend would point out the girls who had a reputation and caution: You don’t want to know her, she’s a syphtonicmegatoid.

Deconstructed, syph-tonic-mega-toid:

Syph: Means she’s been around too many bars with too many men and she probably has nasties (like syphilis).

Tonic: And at the rate she’s been around too many bars with too many men, she’s actually a walking, talking mixture of nasties. And if you touch her, you’ll probably need course of antibiotics to get rid of it.

Mega-toid: Could possibly mean just too much…syphilis on steriods?

In the 21st Century though, I would argue that this word doesn’t just apply to women.

I called my good friend from–well–forever on Sunday. Deborah now lives in Yellowknife, North West Territories, Canada. I hadn’t talked to her in years. Too long. Far too long. But we started talking and talking and talking…like we’d never been out of touch.

It feels good to have a friend like that…someone who knows you from forever. The funny thing is–we were really good friends in high school. She said on the phone on Sunday: Jen. We shoulda got into more trouble then. I said: Well there’s no time like the present. And we laughed and laughed.

We talked about our lives. Our current interests (work, fashion, movies, men). It was one of the best girl talks I’ve ever had. I realized that spammy, sappy email is true. Girls–I’m sure you’ve had it in your email at one time or another…the one that says something about don’t forget your girlfriends. Everything about your life will change, but your girlfriends will be constant. I’m not going to find it…because it is too sappy for my blog, but I will reference it.

Regardless. We had a great talk. I’m going to call her every Sunday just for that: A great girl talk. We talked about fitness and how we want to loose some weight. How we should be loosing weight. And she said she’d received compliments from the locals on how good she looked recently. They called her a “Good Woman”.

She took it as a compliment, but she asked one of her friends what exactly the definition of a “Good Woman” was. Her friend translated: A good woman in the North means you are sturdy enough to help haul a caribou out of the bush and help load the boat, but you are still a soft and feminine partner.

Ha! That’s exactly it. I think if you are a woman in the North, you are by default a “Good Woman”.

I finally woke up this morning after a terrible night of no sleep. My mind was turning with ideas to improve my situation. What good does it do you from 2 am to 4 am though? I just toss and turn and curse how I am going to feel in the morning. It is now morning. I’m cursing the lack of sleep.

I wake up and open my door. My housemate is already awake and calls from the kitchen: “Jen. Jen! The word of the day today is: loquacious.” I look at him still groggy and now mystified. That was a word that I’ve been talking about to my Spanish-speaking friend lately. I’d heard it on a TV program a few weeks ago, but never knew what it meant. I kept meaning to look it up. Now I do.

lo.qua.cious

Pronunciation: lO-’kwA-sh&s
Function: adjective
Etymology: Latin loquac-, loquax, from loqui to speak
1 : full of excessive talk : WORDY
2 : given to fluent or excessive talk : GARRULOUS
synonym see TALKATIVE

AKA: Princess Donkey!

I convinced Humberto to drive with me to LA last weekend. My sister was flying in from Fiji with her friend for a brief stop in the US before they continued to Santiago, Chile. They are going to spend a month or so backpacking in South America before they return to Canada for Christmas. My sister needed a backpack and she also needed to unload some stuff before going.

I was excited–as usual–to be able to see my sister. I hadn’t talked to her in months. And usually, especially the last few years, I talk to her quite frequently. I get excited and I talk a lot (if you know me, you now know that my nickname is Princess Donkey and why). Well. Actually, I should explain that too. One day, as I’m taking the dogs for a walk, the Humberto sees me coming over the hill. He decides to call me Princess (as in Princess Fiona from the movie Shrek). My family has already deemed Alan the Ogre (and he’s not–it’s just that at one time–he appeared to be a bit of an ogre). Me? I think. I’m no princess. At least, I don’t want to be a princess. So I laugh awkwardly and say that since I talk so much, I should be Donkey. He continues to call me Princess though. Later as I realized I really was talking too much, I said out loud: “Oh. I should just shut up. I talk too much.” He laughed and quoted: “Two words Donkey: Shut. Up.” Now, I have been christened Princess Donkey.

Anyway. All the way to LA–we just talk and laugh and talk and laugh. AND TALK. About the state of affairs in his home province, about religion and believing in something greater, about believing in yourself, about living in different cultures, religions, countries and how that experience makes you a richer person. About finding truth in life. About living in truth. About how Democracy is the new religion of the United States and it is still the opiate of the masses. And how I think that the Constitution was written over 200 years ago and that it needs to be updated. And the same for the Bible–it’s the simple fact that somebody wrote something down and over 2000 years later, people still believe in what is written. And there is something to be said for evolution and progress. At one point, he says: What can I say? I’ve spent six years working by myself on the mountain. I think. That is what I do. I work and I think. Sometimes, I think I am just crazy.”

We have to find LAX and my sister. All I know is that she’ll be arriving at 1h05 pm on Air Pacific. I was too busy to plan for this trip and I even forgot to look at maps.google.com before I left. I did, however, bring my laptop with my cellular internet connection. I figured if I got lost, I could just stop and look. I drive into LA on the I5. At the last moment, I decide to take the 405 south–just a hunch that LAX was in that direction. It is now 1h10 pm. Their flight has landed and I am still trying to find LAX. Scatty. That is what Alan tells me. Scatty, but happy. I call Sumeet (a former colleague from Turin who now lives in LA doing his MBA studies). I’m in luck because he answers the phone. “Hi Sumeet. It’s Jennifer. I know this is an odd question, but I’ve just got on the 405 and I need to find LAX.” He is good. He gave me exact directions and we arrived at the airport by about 1h30.

Except, now I must drive around the arrival circle looking for my sister–who I think should be waiting for me. We drove the arrival circle five times before we decide to park and find el banyo. I’m also making plans because my sister had emailed me the night before saying that she might not be able to leave Fiji due to a hiccup with the Ministry of Labour and the Canadian film crew. I’m thinking: What do I do if she’s not here? I guess I’ll just arrange to leave the backpack in a locker or something. At this point, I was standing just outside the washrooms in the terminal. I was also wearing my retro CBC t-shirt I’d splurged on last summer. All of a sudden, I hear: Jen!! I turned around, it was my sister. Her and her friend had noticed the CBC t-shirt in the airport and thought it was cool that they’d just arrived from Fiji and one of the first things they saw was the CBC logo standing around in LAX. Then, they noticed–it was me.

We all get organized and back to the car–talking all the time about getting out of Fiji, about driving around in circles five times before deciding to park, about time zones, about the luck of wearing my CBC t-shirt. We get to the car (2005 Honda Civic hatchback) and we look at four people and all the luggage and Catherine says: Great. Is this some kind of clown car? As in how many people and bags can you actually get in a Honda Civic hatchback? I say: Not a problem. Hondas are awesome. I tell them that I once got three 17-foot sea kayaks, three people, and enough gear for a three-day weekend in a Honda Civic. Just watch. Four people, backpacks, suitcases, bags, laptops, gear. Phshaw. I have roof racks.

Catherine was right about the clown car. I probably could have done a better job too. I should have put the large suitcase on the roof rack. But whatever-we fit. Everything fit. We drive out of the airport. What’s next? I think we are going to find accommodation–but Catherine and my sister need to find a bank to change their per-diem monies into traveller’s cheques. I decide to head down to Venice Beach area (the only place I know in LA). I start to ask people who look like locals where we can find a Wells Fargo bank. Catherine and Redd are having a fit in the back seat because I just stick my head out my window and ask questions. It’s the fastest way to find information. Really. I don’t know what Humberto is thinking other than: “Muchacha loca–muy loca.”

This is when the elements of my good fortune of randomness and lack of planning for the road trip start to collapse around me. I’m wired from the no sleep the night before. I’m wired from the trip down. I’m wired from being able to meet my sister and her friend before they go off on an exciting backpacking adventure to South America. I’m wired and I’m talking a mile a minute about finding the Wells Fargo and I’m looking one way to do a U-Turn and not looking in the direction that the car is going and–you guessed it–BANG–right into a telephone pole that is sticking out into the parking lot.

Not exactly what I need right now–but there is nothing I can do about it. It’s already done. We get out to examine the damage. I can’t get out my door–it really is a clown car now–everybody piles out the passenger door. To top it off, the bank is closed. We have to pile back into the car and find the next bank–which we do, but the whole tone is subdued because I’ve banged my car. Nothing that stops us though. I’ll deal with it when I get home. Now we have to find a place to eat and a place to sleep. I drive down the main street and we all agree to find a Mexican restaurant. Catherine and my sister have been eating a whole lot of Indian food and craved nachos. We find a cantina place down by the beach. I drop them off and go find a hotel to stay for the night.

Over dinner, the evening gets even more subdued as time zones catch up with us and as the realization of the damage to my car sinks in. When we get back to the hotel I put my head in my hands and say: Ugh. I can’t believe I banged my car. Humberto starts to say something in English, then he finishes in Spanish. I ask him what he just said. He repeats: “Calladito me veo mas bonito.” Then he laughs and shakes his head and translates: “I look better quiet.”

“When I use a word, it means exactly what I want it to mean. Nothing more. Nothing less.” Humpty Dumpty says this to Alice in Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass. I love languages. I love finding true words: one word, one meaning, and nothing else. Somebody called me a logomachist once. I had to look it up. What can I say though? I’m a writer. I love words.

Amplexus is the word that means fornicating frogs. Or, more specifically: the mating embrace of a frog or toad during which eggs are shed into the water and there fertilized (from www.m-w.com). Why (or rather how) do I know this rather interesting word? One day I was wine tasting in Healdsburg and I went to the Toad Hollow tasting room. Amplexus is the name of one of their wines. Have you ever seen fornicating frogs? Why would you name a wine after fornicating frogs? I guess there’s a market for everything.

The other day, I went for my usual walk along to the gate. I saw a frog dead-splat in the middle of the road. Its mouth was open and its tongue was sticking out as if it had been an open tube of toothpaste that you’d accidently stepped on. I almost took a picture because it looked so odd, but I thought I would leave the frog its dignity. Poor thing.

I wore my Tabarnac t-shirt today. It’s like I’m going around swearing at the world. That’s exactly how I feel. Today.

One day at work, a colleague and I were talking and he said that he didn’t see much difference between English Canadians and Americans. We were the same culturally (pop culturally–I’m guessing). I know the differences because I live them everyday. The primary difference is though, I grew up in a Canadian state. It doesn’t make me less Canadian that I’m temporarily making a living in the States anymore than if I picked up and went to France for a few years.

Anyway. I’d bought my Tabarnac t-shirt from Montrealite.com last year. I wore this t-shirt to work the day after my colleague said he didn’t see much difference. He doesn’t know the difference, but I do. I swore at him all day long and he didn’t even know it. Somehow, in my odd way, I found that funny.

I’m wearing this t-shirt today though, because I’m just pissed at the grand state of affairs in my world. It’s a release–a silent scream so-to-speak. Somehow, I just feel better running around with a swear word on my chest.

The other day, I was eating dinner with my friends Katie and Sean. They were making wine in their garage and I wanted to take pictures. Originally, I thought this blog entry would be about how Californian’s make home-made wine, but then, when we sat down to dinner, Sean said: I’m so hungry, I could eat the crotch out of a rag doll!

I laughed and said: Hmm. My Dad would say: I’m so hungry I could eat the asshole out of a skunk and come back for the ears! Sean loved that saying. Then I thought that I would make a blog about my Dad’s sayings becasue they are pretty colourful.

Here are some more Dad-isms:

• “If clues were shoes, you’d be walking on the cheeks of your ass!!” For when you do something stupid.
• “If conceit were consumptious, you’d be consuminated.” For when you might think it appropriate to congratulate yourself a bit too much.
• “Cuttin’ hair and building igloos.” For when somebody asks what you are doing and you think it is fairly obvious exactly what you are doing–nothing!
• “It’s so cold out there, you could freeze the balls off a brass monkey in mating season.” For whenever it’s below -30 degrees Centigrade AND there is a wind chill factor.
• “My back teeth are floating and my front teeth are singin’ Anchor’s Away.” For when you have to piss so badly, you can’t even see!.
• “Up and down more times than a whore’s pair of drawers!” For when you are running up and down the stairs by the side of the house because you’re working on the deck at the back, but all the tools and wee things you need are up at the front.
• “As ugly as the second coming of Christ.” Usually used to describe people that you don’t particularly like.
• “As useless as tits on a boar.” Use this phrase to describe what you really think of something, some person, or some idea.
• “Have to use a shingle to scrape my leg.” For when you are in San Francisco and you are driving with your daughter and she goes through a red light because she’s pointing out all the sites and simply doesn’t see the red light.
• “Skunk hungry.” Derived from the quote: I’m so hungry….(above). You can use this phrase to describe how hungry you are.
• “Skunk dinner.” Again, derived from the quote: I’m so hungry…(above). Use this phrase to describe the dinner you just ate because you were skunk hungry. Also, if it so happens that you had liver and onions for your skunk dinner, you can use this phrase to describe how you smell because you ate a skunk dinner!!!
• “So hungry, my spine is talking to my belly button!” Again, you can use this phrase in reference to food and how hungry you are. (Hmmm….food seems to be a dominant theme with my Dad!)
• “Well, you know what thought did!” When you try to explain something with what you thought was a pretty reasonable explanation–but is actually pretty lame. If somebody says this to you, you have to sheepishly admit: “He thought he farted and he shit himself!”.
• “Being a dumbass isn’t covered under the warranty!” A new quote for my Dad, but I think he might use it. Derived from a recent episode where HE filled my tank on my 2005 Honda Civic with diesel fuel.
• “Covered in {tar | paint | glue } from asshole to breakfast.” For when you are taring, painting, or glueing and you get the stuff all over yourself, the wall, the trinket, the roof–whatever project you are trying to complete.
• Added because Jorden said it to Chantel the other day, but we all know where he got it!!: You can shit in the middle of the table and say you’re sorry…” For when you do something and say you are sorry but it doesn’t change the fact that there is a big, stinkin’ pile of crap in the middle of the table.
• Not necessarily a saying from Dad, but from my sister Nat and along the same lines: “Who pissed in your corn flakes this morning??” You ask this question indignantly when somebody seems to be pissed off at you for now apparent reason. And you let them think about it.
• Added 25 April 2006 “Suckin’ the hind tit!” For when you’re feeling behind the game and like you’ll never catch up. Derived from the fact that the runt of the litter always gets the last tit available–not to mention that it’s also the closest one to all the shit.
• Added 18 April 2008 “Slower than molasses in January!” For when you’re trying to do something and it needs to be done really fast and there’s someone or something who’s holding you up. You’d say: “Come on, let’s get going. You’re slower than molasses in January. My Mum would say to me: “Come on Miss Jibbs. You’re slower than molasses running uphill in January!” Apparently, I always took my time when I was young. I geuss I had the time when I was young.

Redd, Nat, do you have anymore? I know you do. Save them in the comments and I’ll update this entry.

A Trueman moment is a phrase derived from the movie, The Trueman Show with Jim Carey. The directors would explain any random thing that happened so Trueman wouldn’t catch on to the fact he was living entertainment. A Trueman moment is a moment that you experience but there is no rhyme to reason for it. It is just a random moment that cannot be explained.

For example, you could be driving along River Road in Sonoma County out to the coast. You could pass by a fellow on the side of the road. In a normal scenario, you would simply pass by and not think (or look) twice.

However, if this person were dressed in leather pants, leather hat, and a leather vest, you might do a double-take. If this person were standing in an odd position because of the walking stick or cane or whatever he was holding between his legs, you might do a double-take.

The moment that defines this moment as a Trueman moment is the moment you realize that this person is standing on the side of the road, outfitted in leather pants, leather vest, and a leather hat. He is standing awkwardly because he is clutching some sort of stick between his legs. He has slid his leather vest off his shoulders AND he is licking his chest!

I’m inventing new expressions to add some technicolour to my everyday life. I think I will take submissions for this blogg entry. That would be funny. Here are a few that immediately come to mind.

• Korky Flapper (noun): A Korky flapper is actually the wee flappy bit inside the toilet tank that is connected to the flush handle that lets the water into the toilet to flush away all the nastiness.

  However, because it’s fun to say, you could use Korky flapper as an adjective. If, for example, it had been raining for days on end, but cleared up near the end of the week. If the skies became incredibly blue and the hills became incredibly green and the air became incredibly fresh, you could exclaim: What a Korky flapper of a day!

  Korky flapper could also be a light insult. For example, if your friend was whining about small things in life, you could say: Don’t be such a Korky flapper.

  Or, if your friend was babbling away about nothing in particular, you could also say: You are just being a Korky flapper.

• Qwing™ (noun). The person in charge of Planet Stupid. If you were crossing the street in Healdsburg ten feet from the corner and somebody in their car shouted at you for jay-walking. And they must have been having an awfully bad day, because they didn’t just shout at you, they shouted: Hey, what planet are you from? ….Planet Stupid?

  And if later that day, you were just laughing at the nonsense of it all: Planet Stupid! And you were imagining that if there were actually inhabitants of Planet Stupid, it would be good to be the one in charge. If you were in charge, your title could be: Qwing, of Planet Stupid.

  Now, you can just use Qwing to talk about stupid people.

• Monkey Butter™ (noun): Etymology: from an Iranian saying, “Like a monkey shoving butter up his butt”. …unfinished…See the April entry for monkey butter.

Here are some new words and phrases that have recently come into my vocabulary. I went snowboarding one weekend in February with my friends and neighbours: Carol and Jimmy. These new words are from Bob, Carol’s father.

• lubo (noun): Pronounced lube-oh. To be a stupid, silly fool. For example, you might be driving along the 101 in North Santa Rosa, and you might look up into your rear view mirror. If you did look into the rear view mirror, you could notice a purple Dodge zooming up behind you really fast and another car zooming up behind you in the fast lane. The lubo is the driver of the purple Dodge who passes you on the shoulder.
• shriv (noun): To be a stupid, silly, shriveled up old curmudgeon.
• Hoy! Waiting! (expression): If you lived in Pittsburgh 30-odd years ago and there were a Chinese restraunt where you liked to order take out and whenever you went to pick up your take out, you would ding the desk bell and shout: “Hoy! Waiting!” As in: Hoy (the owner), I’m out here waiting!. Now, you just use it when you are waiting on people and you just want to let them know you are waiting for them.

Memorable quotes from our ski weekend:

• Hey! Look at the dog smokin’ a stogie!!- Matt (Carol’s 13-year-old son). There was actually a dog (a black lab) coming down the stairs from one of the main buildings that had something stogie-like hanging out of his mouth. I wish I had a picture!
• skootch your bootch (expression): Move over. Move your butt.
• No can do Mum! I’m in short-pants mode: Matt, age 7. When asked if he thought he might be too cold with shorts on and wouldn’t he be more comfortable if he changed into long pants?

Variations on lubo (from 22 May 2005):

• Ms. Lubo (noun): A female lubo.
• Lubette (noun): A young, female lubo. Could also be the back-up singers in a band…
• Lub-in-ator (noun): Pronounced lube-in-a-tor. A lubo on steroids.