Monthly Archive for July, 2006

“Oops, it’s a shrug;” A discursive phenomenon in all caps.

Published
by
Alfina the Vague
on July 29, 2006
in Cheese Sandwich, Film, Neologisms and Style
. Closed

What is the deal with shrugs, anyway?  It has the potential for full-fledged sweaterdom, but it’s as if someone ran out of yarn halfway through.  “Oops, it’s a shrug,” they probably said.  “I’m sure some fool will buy it.”  And the next thing you know, all the girls at the mall are wearing little sweaters that keep their boobs warm while unflatteringly presenting their bellies to the world all “Hey, look at my belly!  Also, doesn’t this shrug make me look adorably foreshortened?”

People, it’s not as bad, perhaps, as leggings or the jeans-under-a-skirt phenomenon, but it has got to stop.  There’s nothing I hate worse than browsing the clearance rack at Banana Republic and seeing what looks to be a promising sleeve (cable knit, chocolate brown), pulling it out to examine the sweater, and then being cruelly disappointed when I discover that, OOPS, IT’S A SHRUG!

The only real fruit of this phenomenon has been that I have started using the “OOPS” construction when I need to say something obvious: OOPS, MY LUNGS ARE MADE OF CHOWDER, for example.  This is especially fun when using an Austrian accent. (As in, OOPS, CALIFORNIA IS RUNNING OUT OF ELECTRICITY.)

Try it yourself and see.  Had an unpleasant experience at the movies this weekend?  I have just the exclamation for you:  OOPS, M. NIGHT SHYAMALAN IS A SELF-AGGRANDIZING BOOB. Got a midnight craving for a burrito the size of your leg? OOPS, I JUST ATE FOUR THOUSAND CALORIES.

This might just be the sort of thing that only I (and select, elite others) find amusing, in which case, I apologize for wasting your time.   OOPS, I WROTE ABOUT A PERSONAL JOKE ON THE INTERNET AND IT WASN’T VERY FUNNY.

special announcement–readers’ submissions requested!

Published
by
Alfina the Vague
on July 29, 2006
in BLACKLISTED!
. 33 Comments

Hello, esteemed readers.  I am here to make you a very special, very lucrative, limited-time offer!  Yes, that’s right.  Step right up and let me tell you what I, Alfina the Vague, can do for you. 

Most of you are familiar with the BLACKLISTED! series of posts, wherein I present to you things that have earned my righteous disdain, and where I asked of you, the readers, the following:

You may recognize some of these characters, and should you, I humbly ask that you consider their inclusion on this list in any of your interactions.  Do not hire these people! Do not lend them change for the payphone! Do not go to bed with them!  They have been BLACKLISTED!

These people (and things, situations, concepts, etc.) are my sworn enemies! I ask that you shun them.  But I think that, in the face of such a request, I could offer something in exchange.  Who (or what) are your sworn enemies?  Whom, if you met them in a dark alleyway, would you be duty bound to punch in the neck?  Let me know, and I will place them on the Zemblan Grammar BLACKLIST! All caps, exclamation point, the whole nine.  This, I do for you.

Neighbor parking in your space? Lazy students got you singing the blues? Hate leggings? I want to know about it!  Submit your requests in the comments section or via email, and I will compile a special, limited edition Readers’ BLACKLIST! 

(If submission volume is high I may do this in multiple installments, so don’t be shy!  Lurkers especially encouraged.  South Africa, Chapel Hill, Atlanta, Toronto, Dublin, Denver–I am looking at you people!)

pour myself a cup of ambition

Published
by
Alfina the Vague
on July 24, 2006
in Uncategorized
. 2 Comments

I got my first assignment from the temp agency today, and when they described it to me, it sounded at first as if I was going to be a strikebreaker.  One local company’s workers have been engaged in a long and well publicized contract dispute this summer, and as far as I know, they are still on strike.  As distasteful as being a scab is, it could potentially be even worse, as I might actually belong to the same huge, umbrella union they do: I would be undermining my own brotherhood!  Could I betray my comrades for a few hours’ work?

As it turned out, the kind of job I would be doing wasn’t usually done by the union workers, but rather was always performed by temps.  When I found that out, I jumped at the chance.  (Let’s face it, though; I am so broke right now I probably would happily have "betrayed" my "comrades" for a little rent money.) The job turned out to be only a half day assignment–one that involved taking a pleasant morning stroll through one of our more charming neighborhoods.  Luckily I got it done before the temperature rocketed back up above 100, which it since has.  The afternoon has been spent creating a me-shaped puddle of sweat on the couch and waiting for the sun to go down. 

I have an interview on Wednesday about which I am feeling utterly ambivalent.  More to come on that note.  Until then, wear cool cotton clothing and drink plenty of water.

BLACKLISTED! summer heat wave installment

Published
by
Alfina the Vague
on July 21, 2006
in BLACKLISTED!
. 13 Comments

The Sweatbucket Chair.  What is the Sweatbucket Chair, you might ask? The Sweatbucket chair is a plastic, outdoor chair whose seat is vaguely bowl shaped (the better to cup your buttocks, I s’pose) and which is solid plastic with no ventilating slats.  When one sits in such a chair, outside, on a hot day, one might just stand up only to discover that one’s backside has been totally and completely soaked with sweat.  (You may recall that I enjoy sweat, but only when it is allowed to flow and evaporate freely.) Sweatbucket Chair, you have been BLACKLISTED!

The Skirt-Hem-Into-Underpants Tuck.  This is what happens when you leave the bathroom with the hem of your light and breezy Summer skirt tucked into the back of your underpants: You feel light and breezy–but a little too breezy.  You casually run your hand across your backside, only to discover the Horrible Truth:  Your underwear are exposed!  I repeat: EXPOSED! You hope no one is behind you, and you slink carefully backwards into the restroom, frantically trying to untuck the skirt hem from the waistband of your drawers.  You will feel that same phantom breeze all day, constantly certain that you have unknowingly repeated the improper tuck.  Skirt-Hem-Into-Underpants Tuck, you have been BLACKLISTED!

Hundred-Degree Weather. I, like any lazy person, enjoy any excuse to sprawl across the tile floor of my kitchen, wearing only my underwear (Again with the underwear talk! Sorry!), sipping lemonade all day.  However, I had other plans today.  Plans that involved, oh, I don’t know, movement of some kind.  Clothing.  Activity.  Hundred-Degree Weather, you have been BLACKLISTED!

BLACKLISTED! poolside installment

Published
by
Alfina the Vague
on July 7, 2006
in BLACKLISTED!
. 8 Comments

Teenagers. Does anyone else ever notice that a Teenager, no matter how large or small, takes up infinitely more space than a person of any other age?  How do accomplish this subversion of physical space?  I won’t even get into their louder-than-possible voices or inane conversations.  My suspicion is that they talk SOFUCKINGLOUD because they are hoping other people will hear what they’re saying.  (No word on whether I think this now because I behaved similarly at that age.  You really don’t want to hear about that, now do you?). Teenagers also apparently think that, no matter who else is already in the deep end of the pool, floating placidly in the blue, blue water and minding her own business, that the deep end belongs to them. It is theirs for the taking, theirs that they might shout and flail and wrestle and throw around the giant beach ball they stole from the six-year-olds in the shallow end.  Lousy fucking behavior.  Teenagers, you have been BLACKLISTED!

Old Starey Lady. Old Starey is the one lady who goes to the pool with no book, no magazine, no crossword puzzle, no headphones, and, worst of all, no sunglasses.  She just sits there and stares at people.  When I peel myself up off the chaise and prepare to jump in, she is there, watching. When I get water in my ear and have to do the pound-on-the-side-of-the-head thing until it comes out, she is there, watching.  When I exit the pool, trying desperately to keep the weight of water from pulling my top down as I climb the ladder, she is there, watching.  Old Starey Lady, you are intensely creepy, and you have been BLACKLISTED!

Children. Children are just like teenagers, except slightly smaller and usually diapered.  They scream, they cry, they piss.  They occasionally leave their floaty foam rubber noodle things unattended, so I can steal them.  The day you start taking your noodles home, Children, you will be BLACKLISTED!

Strange Aquatic Bugs.  Strange Aquatic Bugs are not bees, flies, wasps, or any of the other bugs that inevitably get trapped on the water’s surface and die, left there to float in limbo until they are removed with the skimmer.  No, Strange Aquatic Bugs are large and pill-shaped and swim (SWIM!) in the water with strange, flippery legs.  They are in the water, ALIVE, moving AROUND, and intensely squicky. Who are you, Strange Aquatic Bugs, and what the fuck are you doing in my pool?  Strange Aquatic Bugs, you have been BLACKLISTED!