Fuck this S***

Lexically-speaking, there’s nothing sexy about t*ts and a**.

Regarding written profanity, I don’t understand when writers X-out a few offending characters when they could talk around the idea with rhetorical wit. Profane words, regardless of obfuscation, still mean the same thing; and yet, for some reason, our internal censors let it go. Worse, writers miss an opportunity to impress their readers.

Personally, I’m not irked by dirty words (however salacious) but I am rather annoyed with the lack of creativity in that their scribes couldn’t find a better way to say it whilst maintaining the conservative sentimentality they clearly want to preserve.

It’s incongruous.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with peppering language with profanity, but it’s often uninspired and cliché. I think to myself, “what the fuck is this shit?” (which should provide some insight into my internal monologue’s maturity level). But, that’s the point: idle thoughts are fleeting; print is forever. And, as a writer, I expect others to put a bit more care into what they print than what they’re thinking about in a given moment.

If you’re going to get dirty and gross, be dirty and gross. Use the words the dictionary affords you. And, for those with the talent, make some up. But, in general, don’t be senseless—censoring your language doesn’t soften its meaning, it just makes you look lazy and, I daresay, stupid.

As the editor-in-chief of The Onion once told me:

There’s nothing like a well-timed fuck.

Special thanks to Elizabeth King for inspiring this post. Her tolerance for my asinine banter is very much appreciated. Read her blog.

The Towel Off

I wonder if there are categorizable styles for toweling off.

Every time I exit a shower, bath, or pool, I dry myself off in a consistent, particular manner. How did this come about? Do other people use their towels in as a consistent manner as I do? I hope so, because then we can compare towel-usage with heat maps. 

I use three sizes of towels: a bath sheet (60″ × 35″), a bath towel (52″ × 27″) and a hand towel (30″ × 16″). I was curious not only how I was using the towel, but if changing towel size changed the usage pattern. So, I took three showers and dried myself off once with each towel.

The darker areas indicate higher use. The patterns represent both sides of the towel, in aggregate.

Bath Sheet (60″ × 35″):

Bath Towel (52″ × 27″):

Hand Towel (30″ × 16″):

From the maps, we can see I’m a very symmetric towel user, with a focus on the center. I also tend not to evenly utilize my towel’s drying power.

Perhaps I could optimize.

How do you use your towel?

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New Apartment Resolutions

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I move next month. No roommates. No compromises. What ridiculousness will come?

Since college, I’ve lived with one of my best friends from high school. It’s been fun, but he needs to move in with his girlfriend and I need my own place. Shared living space means compromises and concessions; and now, for the first time ever, I have complete freedom.

I’m excited and have begun thinking about the implications.

  1. More Nudity
    With the prospects of the roommate (or his girlfriend) arriving at any time, I found it good practice to wear pants at all times. No longer an issue, I’ll likely forgo pants around my apartment. 
     
  2. Less Laundry 
    More nudity also means I’ll be doing less laundry as I’ll be wearing fewer clothes. Seems logical.
     
  3. More Gym Time
    More nudity also means I’ll notice how out of shape I’ve become. I’ll likely go to the gym more, or spend more time on my two-cycle.
     
  4. More Laundry
    Frequent gym time doubles my load, so I guess I will have more laundry after all.
     
  5. No Cable TV
    My current roommate compulsively watches TV. (He gets antsy without the Trinitron’s warm glow.) I tend to watch shows without commercials on DVD, and entire series in one sitting. I suspect I’ll skip the Cable, Blockbuster and Netflix accounts and just buy an AppleTV. 
     
  6. No Stuffed Animals In The Living Room
    The only fight my roommate ever won was the stuffed animal debacle. Right now, a Mr. Snuffleupagus and a Tux penguin (holding a hand-written “NO LOAFING” sign) [dis]grace the living room. While every girl who’s ever visited the living room thought they were adorable, I still can’t stand them. At least I relegated the stuffed amoebas to the roommate’s bedroom. (Yes, he owns stuffed amoebas.)
     
  7. Cups Will Be Stacked Rim-Up
    When you live with someone, little lifestyle differences begin to crop up. I stack cups rim up; my roommate does rim down. I won that battle, but he still puts the silverware the wrong way in the dishwasher. (Two years and it still bothers me.)
     
  8. Better Music
    My roommate discovers music through Volkswagen and Apple ads. ‘Nuff said.
     
  9. More Home Cooking
    My roommate and I love ordering from SeamlessWeb. It’s our favorite thing. But, with a supermarket next door, I now have no excuse.

It’s like my own magical DisneyWorld. I’m too excited to sleep.