it's nsb time, which means national spelling bee time. oh my goodness. they're part way through round 4 and everything from this point on will be broadcast. this is exciting for 200 reasons. here's 3:
because it is a quest for perfection that will inevitably fail for all but one (unless there's a tie) and would eventually fail for that one kid too if he or she or it were forced to continue spelling words even after winning and this is an excellent life lesson.
because smart kids get center stage without having to throw footballs which would be a strange thing to do on a stage but you get what i'm saying.
because the national spelling bee is all i have.
and now my favorite words from each round so far along with my guesses as to the definitions:
round 1 (the written round): sprachgefuhl - adjective, looking like a fool after a plate of spaghetti has been thrown at one's face
round 2: conchologize - verb, to eulogize a beloved snail while holding up its empty conch shell
round 3: tangemon - noun, a tangerine demon hybrid, or an evil fruit, or elton john while dueting with eminem
round 4: lipogrammatism - noun, the practice of psychokinetically removing all incidences of the word "like" from a person's vocabulary unless like is used to compare two things, such as in the phrase "star jones looks like a garbage bag" or if like is used as a verb, such as in the phrase "do you like him or do you like him like him?"
here's the tv schedule. it's on primetime network tv for the first time ever. so watch away. tivo away. vhs away. glue yourself to the imagery and sounds of the thrill of d-e-f-e-a-t and the agony of d-u-h-f-e-i-t. personally i'm rooting for samir patel because i saw him on the bee when he was in 3rd grade and he came in 4th place which was crazy and he said things to the judges such as "is it just my imagination or am i getting all the french words?" perfection.
for the cuh-rafty cuh-pedophile who pays his cuh-victims, it's the undies wallet. while i accept that non-pedophiles may enjoy making one and that it may be some innocent yet kitschy project, it's still totally creepy with a capital creep.
beedogs has new beedogs and equally as joyous and hypnotic as the beedogs is the coaxifying next page link language such as "controversial new research has suggested that prolonged periods of beedog viewing can be detrimental to one’s health. is clicking through to the next page a risk you are willing to take?" so glory in the new batch or start from the beginning while i put beedog honey in my tea.
the breakfast club meanie principal paul gleason, whose character richard vernon defied the whole "principal is your pal" spelling test memory trick because he was nobody's pal, is dead. as an established character actor, he's had a million other roles, like getting fucked by a gorilla in trading places and as ski resort guest in 1965's winter a-go-go, but all that matters is the breakfast club, because all that matters in life is sharing an enemy, or at least that's what i learned during reagan's presidency (nancy reagan's). otherwise i'm practically speechless, except of course for...
"dear mr. vernon: we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. but we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. you see us as you want to see us: in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. but what we found out is that each one of us is a brain...and an athlete...a princess...and a basket case...and a criminal. does that answer your question?
man i've seen several times around town has clearly been working out a great deal more. his hair is the same military brush cut as always however his shoulders are wider and his chest is hugified and his white polo shirt barely fits. he squats on the sidewalk by the bus stop to retrieve an item from his backpack. his underwear is revealed to be black with a red band, which is likely from the calvin klein pro stretch collection.
we get on the bus and he ends up sitting across the aisle from me talking to a guy seated directly in front of me. i learn the guy in front of me is a bigwig with a travel company and the brush cut pro stretch man is attempting to schmooze him to get a cruise ship job. he is willing to move from seattle with two weeks notice for months at a time to alaska, or hawaii or europe. as i realize he may leave at any moment, i begin to crave an intimate relationship with him. not simply sexually intimate, but emotionally intimate. because he would leave.
the bus jolts forward and he reaches out from across the aisle to steady me. he holds my shoulder for a moment and says something like "careful buddy" or "whoa buddy", but all i hear is the "buddy". his copping a feel of my shoulder is all that was really going on because there are no seat belts on buses and the jolt had already passed and i, along with everyone else on the bus, remained uninjured.
boyfriend of an ex-friend walks down broadway. the seattle version of broadway which is an avenue full of pointless retail expressions. he may be the ex-boyfriend of my ex-friend because people drift apart and that means they could have too which means he could be single. he holds plastic bags from the grocery store which are never my choice because they cut into my palms and don't biodegrade as easily as paper which is a theory not a fact. he wears urban flip flops. blue with a band-aid over his left pinkie toe. his calves are calm and purposeful. he may have noticed me. he may have another boyfriend.
exactly how is his bulge showing so clearly through both yellow underwear and black shorts and exactly how is he getting away with that camo hat when it's after labor day and exactly when is it not after labor day except on labor day and exactly where in space and time is he cause i'm fucking his tits now yet he is also in a plain white room far away from me and exactly why is he so angry did daddy go to the grocery store for a carton of milk and never come back?