Snowlinguistics

So have you ever heard the "fact" that Eskimos have over fifty words for snow? Sometimes the story is 100. Fascinating right? Wrong. That is dumb. It's supposed to demonstrate that Eskimos are so into snow that they have all these words for snow. But the thing is, they don't really have any more or less than any other language allows.

The difference is how words are formed. By the way, Eskimo isn't even a single language. That's like referring to European as a language. Anyway so many Eskimo languages form words by squishing the words together similar to how the Germans do it. In fact they could potentially have fifty words for hot dog, e.g., bighotdog, grosshotdog.

So it would be like if in English we said heavysnow instead of heavy snow. Big whoop right? Anyway so I did a little research and found over fifty words for snow in English. I guess we're just as obsessed with snow as the Eskimoses.

Some are of meteorological origin, some come from winter sport enthusiasts, etc.

Snow

Blizzard
Snowdrift
Snow bank
Snowman
Snowball
Snowflake
Snowstorm
Snowfall
Avalanche
Powder
Whiteout
Snowsquall
Flurry
Thundersnow
Artificial snow
Graupel
Snow pellets
Dendrites
Sleet
Columns
Lake-effect snow
Blowing snow
Chopped powder
Ground blizzard
Crud
Crust
Zipper
Snowpack
Depth hoar
Finger drift
Firn
Slush
Penitentes
Hoar frost
Needles
Rimed snow
Champagne powder
Chowder
Cornice
Ego snow
Freshies
Goods
Piste
Snowcastle
Snow fort
Snow sculpture
Zastruga
Snow cave
Mogul
Windblown

There are more but I think you get the idea.

Meat Coins

OK, so a ways back I went to Paradise Bakery with some work peeps. I looked over the menu and ordered the meatball sammich pictured below:




It's the one with the balls of meat in it.




This is what the fools handed me:

Mmmmm, flat bread.

My first thought: ha! they forgot to add the meatballs. They're a bakery, so at least the bread looks great. So I opened the bready meal and revealed the real problem:




Meat coins?



They cut one measly meatball into two tiny halves and called it good.

Let's revist that menu for a closer look:



It does say "Meatball" singular. . .



What. The. Fuh.

There's at minimum six whole meatballs, balls, not meat coins, not meat slivers, not meat poker chips. Anyway that's it. I yelled and ordered something else. End of story.

P.S., Some time later I ate this and all was well:



A good meatball sandwich has portions too wide for a normal human mouth.



P.S.S. Today I was responsible for a large conference at work. We had Zupas.

To the Bees

To the Bees,


When Mark Walberg asked me if I was interested in what happened to the missing bees, my response was shut up, Marky Mark, this movie is worse than your Planet of the Apes remake.

So, Netflix Watch Instant only has documentaries, seventy-five different seasons of Dr. Who, and half shark-half other monster hybrid B movies for some reason, so last night, I watched the Juno-narrated, not at all cleverly titled, documentary the Vanishing of the Bees. Everyone should watch it it by the way. I dare you to find anything better on Netflix Watch Instant.

Anyway, after the movie I felt really bad for you bees, especially the getting high on systematic pesticide and flying off en mass in a drunken stupor to your deaths part. Even though your honey tastes like the puke it is, I got your back from now: I'll try to eat more obtusely labeled “organic” fruits and veggies, even though studies don’t show it to be any more directly healthy for human consumption. And seriously it should not be called organic. Every plant is organic even if it has chemicals on it. That's just bad decsriptioning. I'll eat it but I am gonna called it non-pesticide-laden fruit.

Anyway if you bees all died, we’d be kind of screwed so thanks for pollinating stuff; we owe you guys. Especially for the providing the greatest moment in accidental comedy in cinematic history.

Thanks again for all your hard work and self-sacrifice. You are your own knees!

Mexie Youth Shenanigans

So I was starving Sunday night at midnight and couldn't sleep, so I went to Betos or Rancheritos, or whatever they are legally obligated to call themselves now. Anyway so I pull up to the drive-thru and. . .


Speaker: Pkkkerk. How can I help you?

Me: Yeah, can I get carne asada fries, with no guacamole and extra sour cream.

Speaker: Fries don’t come with guacamole, only salt.

Me: No I want carne asada fries.

Speaker: Carne asada torta? Anything else.

Me: No carne asada fries with no guacamole and extra sour cream.

Speaker: Carne asada fries with extra guacamole and no sour cream. Anything else?

Me: No, you have it backwards. No guacamole and extra sour cream. And a large horchata.

Speaker: Carna asada fries with no guac and extra sour cream and a small horchata. Anything else?

Me: No, a large horchata.

Speaker: Small?

Me: Large!

Speaker: Small?

Me: Large horchata!

Speaker: Small.

Me: Large!

Then when I get to the window the Mexie youth in the window hands me a small horchata. A small-freaking-horchata! I can't drink a tiny horchata: it's half ice for one thing, and I don't drink small-sized anything.

I calmly say I wanted a large, then he laughs at me and pulls out a large horchata. Then he lets me have both for being “a good sport.” I laughed so I wouldn't seem like a cranky old man, even though a second horchata didn't make up for his wreckless shenanigans.

You know you’re getting old when you are on this side of the drive-thru pranking. Also I woke up with a tummy ache. Still worth it.

Ritual Suicide

So Hulu has a way of showing the same advertisements ad nauseam (haha good cliched pun, no?) until you want to buy their product, then they keep at it until you want to murder yourself with said product. Anyway they finally stopped showing me this Stella Artois commerical (no I never got around to buying some. . .). But it is so ingrained in my brain that I can't ever delete it. And I hate it. Every word. You watch it, then I'll complain about it in detail.

http://www.bestads.tv/view/3747/stella-artois-the-ritual/

OK so first of all, this beer is so pretentious that it needs its own ritual.

And there are only two steps to this ritual, and they are very simple and generic and kind of common sense even. The first is using a clean glass. I don't drink the alchy, but if I did, I would assume the glass I drank out of was cleaned beforehand. I drink me plenty of sody-pop and it better be served in a clean glass. Or the health inspector and I will be having words.

What are they saying, that poor beer is undeserving of clean glassware? The 99% won't like being told that.

Then the second step to this ritual is that the glass is tilted slightly. So? Don't they do that with every single other beer ever? Even of the apple and root variety?

Also annoying: the word chalice. And the fact that I had to find the link on a website called bestads.com, and not worststupidadsthataresodumb.com.

Anyway, so this commercial infuriates me. That's all.

If I have to watch it one more time, I might have to commit ritual suicide. Step one: clean knife. Step two: hold knife slightly at an angle. Step three: you know the rest.

Wee Little Accident-Prone Snowchild

We have had very little snow so far this winter. So one of our wee little neighbor children made a wee little snowman, so wee that I'd say he is more of a snowlad or snowchild. Anyway, speaking of wee, it looks like the snowchild had himself a wee little accident as you can see from the picture below.


Probably best to just blame it on a wee little neighbor dog.

Commercial-Free Blogging

So I listen to NPR a lot. I won’t get into the liberals versus the non-liberals: I’ll save that for my other blog (the one where no one gets my jokes). Anyway, NPR is always asking for money (one day when they stop getting tax dollars I promise to start paying them a donation). The other thing they always do is proudly proclaim to be commercial-free. But here is the thing: they aren’t really commercial-free. Instead of “advertisers” who pay “fees” to radio stations to place “commercials” for their products, NPR has “supporters” who “donate” money and get to share a “message” about their products on air.

If you can tell me a real difference that isn’t more than arguing a fine semantic line, then I’d love to hear it. No actually I don’t want to hear it: keep it to yourself because they are the same thing.

I have heard about this Herman Melville chair probably a thousand times, including the Aeron “true black” chair, whatever that is (must be better than fake black [or Herman Mellvile true white whale?]). And about Tsunami’s sushi specials. I have to admit it is starting to wear me down. I might get myself a nice lounge chair to eat some sushi in while I listen to NPR. Except I can’t give in, you know out of principle or something.

Look NPR, I get it; you need the money. So I say quit the charade and embrace your model. No one is saying you have to sell out: sell in. I just want you to fess up and quit the commercial-free act because no one is buying (maybe I will try that sushi place after all).

This blog is brought to you commercial free (because no one will pay to advertise here).