F%@!ck Yeah
by Nicole DeMarco
I don’t know anything about parenting, but I do enjoy this since I think taboo language is a social construct and words receive shock value arbitrarily, not inherently.
The Linguist with an Axe
Misanthropy and Grammatical Pedantry. More fun than it sounds, I promise.
July 13, 2013
An Ode to Dunkin’ Donuts
by Nicole DeMarco
Hazelnut coffee
Tasty and caffeinated
Even better iced
Goes well with muffins
Blueberry and even corn
Donuts of all sorts
Cramming for a test
My Dunkin’ keeps me awake
Should I want a rest
Morning companion
Hangover recovery
My classroom comrade
Nearing your demise
Condensation everywhere
You’re gone and I cry
June 19, 2013
New Words for the Indecisive
by Nicole DeMarco
Before I continue, I’d like to issue the following disclaimer: if there exists a word (in English, or any other tongue) that means any of these things, I’m fully unaware. My goal in writing this is merely to pick up the slack of our Indo-European predecessors.
1. Starvacillangst [star-vas-ill-angkst] (noun): The anxiety one feels when unable to decide what he or she is in the mood to eat.
The hardship of the hungry! The frustration of the famished! Do I want a turkey club? Nachos? Pad Thai? Do I wanna go HAM (mmm…ham) on a sleeve of Oreos? Make a man out of some chips? Would some guac hit the spot? (No wait. Disregard that last example. Everyone always wants guac, no matter what).
The thing is, everything you think you might want to eat is a completely different taste, which makes narrowing down the selection even more of a Herculean task. If you settle on the wrong thing, your meal just feels like a colossal waste of eating and a caloric assault on your taste buds.
Ex: The menu diversity at Shirley’s local eatery gave her an overwhelming bout of starvacillangst, causing her to order one of everything.
2. Celerambulatorability [suh–ler-am-byuh-luh-tour-uh-bill-i-tee] (noun): The capacity to hastily decide if one has enough time to cross the street before getting hit by a car.
One must be swift-footed and sure to successfully pull off this jaywalk jog. Reluctance in step or hesitance in gait means either a) you’re now one of those douchebags stuck in the middle of the street between traffic lanes b) you suck because now your friends have to wait for you on the other side of the road or c) you actually got hit by a car.
Ex: Peggy Sue is a nice gal and all, but her celerambulatorability is abysmal; she’s lucky to be alive after today’s trek through NYC.
3. Interattirecide [in-ter-uh-tahy-ra-sahyd] (verb): To struggle in trying to choose between clothing sizes.
I can’t necessarily speak to the universality of this dilemma, but it’s happened to me often enough that I desperately hope it’s not another one of those “no that’s just you” problems.
Anyway, this is sort of the worst. Maybe one size is a better length, but tighter around the middle. Perhaps you’ve recently tacked on a few el bees and you’re not sure if your normal size can aesthetically accommodate your kimono arms. You get the idea.
Ex: I spent nearly an hour in the Urban Outfitter’s dressing room because I kept interattirecizing after trying on this hipster chic hobo dress.
June 9, 2013
6 Circles of Hell
by Nicole DeMarco
It’s my ardent contention that these groups of people have a special place reserved for them in the fiery depths of Hades.
1. People That Won’t Stop Talking About Going to the Gym
Look bro, if you’re really pumping iron as hard as your Facebook status, Tweet, and Foursquare check-in suggest, the results will speak for themselves. Because modern science continues to fail me, your working out does nothing for MY waistline, and therefore, I don’t really care.
2. Dieters That Feel the World Ought to Know They’re on a Diet
Closely related, yet distinct enough to merit its own adjacent plot in Tartarus. Look, kudos to you if you wanna unclog your arteries and lower your cholesterol. Seriously. That’s swell. But unless you’re Kirstie Alley, there’s just no need to publicize your dietary exploits.
Oh, what’s that? Today you only ate three blades of grass and half a serving of kale? That’s neat. I had a muffin, four bagels, and three small children.
3. Oversharers
My main question for these folks is, “What do you want me to say?” Seriously, ‘cause I have no goddamn idea how to respond to the epic shitstorm of information you just laid on me. Like none whatsoever. Oh, your boyfriend cheated on you with your mom? You’re $200,000 in debt and the bank is going to foreclose on your house? You have the clap?
Do I commiserate? Do I minimize your suffering? Offer a tragic anecdote of my own? I only met you five minutes ago, so I really don’t know which route you’d prefer.
4. People That Preface Statements with, “No offense, but…”
Nice distancing move and all, but there’s a 99 percent chance that I’m still going to be offended by whatever is about to come out of your mouth. You probably could have guessed that, though, otherwise you wouldn’t have felt the need to use this verbal maneuver in the first place. Next time, don’t bother vainly trying to soften your bluntness. Just man up and say what ya gotta say.
5. Joke Thieves
You suck and you’re not funny. You ganked comedic intellectual property and thus, you’ve landed yourself eternal residency in Satan’s quarters. Extra fire and brimstone for you if you’re one of those people that merely repeats something someone just said, only louder.
6. Movie Talkers
“What’s happening?” “Who’s that?” “Do they die at the end?” Oh em eff gee, I don’t know. But, if I were a betting gal, I’d stake my life savings that if you just watch the film, you’d find out within the next 90 minutes. Until then, pass the popcorn and sta’ zitto!
June 5, 2013
An Exposition on Pedestrian Rage
by Nicole DeMarco
The following is an empathetic address to my ambulatory comrades in sneakers, for they too understand the plight about which I am to write.
First, I by no means want to suggest that the gripes one may have with being stuck behind the wheel on the freeway-turned-parking lot are in some way illegitimate. No man, that sucks, too. I merely want to convey that there exists an anger that, while in a similar vein, is distinct and worth documenting.
Here’s the thing: if you’re driving and I’m walking, you’re just definitely going to arrive at your destination before I arrive at mine. There is simply no need to show a blatant disregard for common courtesy and human life by rounding corners at breakneck speeds while I’m strutting through an intersection.
Perhaps this can be chalked up to an ignorance of some extraordinarily basic (so much so that unawareness where these are concerned should probably merit a license revoking) traffic laws. Allow me to elucidate the masses. Those white lines painted on the ground between blocks? Yeah, not just a widespread modern art exhibit. That means there’s a crosswalk there. Aptly named, these portions of road are “walk” ways on which those travelling by foot “cross” the street. Mind blow, right? (God I hope not).
I can concede that it’s an entirely different ballgame (woo, sports) when you see some bozo jaywalking, or lazily plodding along like they own the streets. Those jerks should get a move on. But when I get the ever-indignant “what-the-fuck” hands from a driver who’s only pissed because I disrupted their crosswalk creep, I get mad. Don’t stare at me like I did something wrong. You’re only making me want to slow my roll and watch you nervously alternate between braking and accelerating, undoubtedly weighing the pros and cons of doing some time behind bars for a hit and run. In short, you’re giving me a complex.
Just one more thing—if you insist on careening about the streets with reckless abandon, could you at least get better taste in tunes? Because if I do one day get mowed down by one of these overly zealous, vehicularly-equipped folks, I really don’t want the last thing I hear before being creamed by your car to be the David Guetta-Rihanna-Justin Bieber mash-up blasting through your open windows.
Maybe the continuation of this phenomenon isn’t the worst thing in the world. After all, I have always wanted an excuse to yell, “I’m walkin’ here!!”
March 28, 2013
First World Problems (Part I)
by Nicole DeMarco
While it is paramount that these dilemmas be kept in perspective, there is surely no harm in delighting in the absurdity that comprises this non-exhaustive account of the quandaries unique to the Ipad-toting, Benz-driving, quinoa-munching members of the First World.
1. Deciding If Something Is More of a Tweet or Facebook Status
Speaking strictly from personal experience, nothing causes me to spiral into existential crisis mode quite like this debacle. Can my amusing anecdote about the annoying sluts that sit behind me in philosophy be adequately conveyed in 140 character or less? Could this screenshot get enough ‘likes’ to start its own organized cult following? I just don’t know. I couldn’t possibly post it onto both forums, lest I be called out for such an egregious violation of the sacred laws of social networking. Life is just so hard.
2. Autocorrects
Somehow, “GO DUCK YOURSELF!” just doesn’t pack the same punch as the intended version of this…less than polite…command. How the duck is any self-respecting texter supposed to deliver scathing diatribes when up against a hurdle so insurmountable as autocorrects? Duck if I know. It’s really hard to communicate what a hardass bitch you are when actual profanities are punctuated by mentions of quacking birds, and that ducking sucks. (I promise there will be no more lame duck / fuck jokes for the duration of this piece).
3. Forgetting Your Headphones
This is especially dreadful if you’re a public transportation commuter. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you’d all much rather listen to the dulcet tones of your fave Pandora station than the cacophonous screeching of babies and the bumbling drivel of the schizophrenic dude next to you. (I am by no means trivializing the severity of this or any other personality disorder). This disaster can strike in other contexts, too. Getting that heart rate up at the gym is exponentially more torturous without your carefully made playlist available. If you’re super bougie, you’ll be mourning the absence of your Bluetooth earbud things that probably cost more than my first car.
February 19, 2013
by Thought Catalog
“He is risen, and he is pissed.”
As a huge Quentin Tarantino fan, I’d go see this.
February 17, 2013
(Some of) Life’s Unfortunate Guarantees
by Nicole DeMarco
1. You’ll wake up early when you don’t have to
While waking up to any one of the 34 alarms you’ve set the other 5 or 6 days a week is, in terms of difficulty, roughly equivalent to jogging through molasses (or maybe just jogging…whatever, no judgment), you can pretty much bank on being bright eyed and bushy tailed at the asscrack of dawn the one Saturday a month you’ve nothing to do and no place to be. Try to make the best of these few extra hours of consciousness, though. Read that book you’ve been meaning to get to, use your French press, or yanno…work that brisk walk of yours up to a jog.
2. You will see people out in public when you look…less than stellar
It’s almost as though there’s an 11th commandment etched in stone somewhere that reads, “Thou Shalt Look Like Shit in Public, and Thou Shalt Be Embarrassed and Doomed to Be Disheveled.” Okay, maybe not, but chances are 10:1 that the second you leave the warm cocoon of your bed / Netflix, it’s gonna be a goddamn reunion. Guests include: exes, that bitch you know from high school who somehow always looks fucking fabulous, and potential employers. Their judgmental stares serve as harsh reminders that if you’re going to be unkempt, at least wear a hat to conceal your birds’ nest inspired coif.
3. You will forget your umbrella, and it will rain…a lot.
Pretty straightforward. You neglected to tune into the forecast this morning, only to discover firsthand the apocalyptic downpours responsible for your wet socks, frizzy hair, and the literal dampening of your will to live. Alternatively, if you tote your best bubble ‘brella around all day, you’re in for clear skies and looking like a paranoid douchebag.
4. You will pour cereal, and there will be no milk
Maybe your roommate hates puppies and rainbows and thinks it’s kosher to put empty cartons back into the fridge, maybe you forgot taking the last swig of 1% yesterday morning, but whatever the case, you’ve got cereal…but no milk. Your best bet is to throw those toasted grains in a plastic baggy so you can eat that ish on-the-go, pretending it doesn’t taste like scratchy sadness and wondering why bad things happen to good people.
5. You will arrive at your destination, and a great song will come on the radio.
Naturally, during your commute there will be nothing but static and ads cluttering the airwaves. Suddenly, though, the second you’re home, at your stop, whatever, angelic choirs part and you’re inundated in the auditory bliss that is your fave jam. Power ballad, techno beat, 90s throwback, doesn’t matter—it’s all you can do to resist your desperate urge to burst out into full orchestral conductor mode and belt out every word, no matter how out of range.
February 10, 2013
Times It Would Be Useful to Have a Significant Other
by Nicole DeMarco
That the holiday season may serve as a cruel and relentless reminder of singlehood is pretty unanimous. However, the utility of having a beau is hardly limited to the few weeks that prick Cupid (known to our Greek brethren as ‘Eros’) flutters around shooting chocolate-covered arrows of concupiscence. The following seeks to elaborate on some of those instances where having duped someone into loving you would really come in handy.
1. Opening Jars
Look, I’m all for unfettering the shackles of oppressive gender stereotypes and all that, but the fact remains: dudes are (generally) stronger than chicks, and some broads are stronger than other broads. It’s science. You can’t argue with science. (Or so I’ve been told. This is also an instance where the gays have it all figured out…this a ‘can’t lose’ type situation). Anyways, the point is, there’s literally nothing more tragic in the entire world than not being able to open a jar. Perhaps you’ll take the ‘run the lid under hot water’ route. Well, if you’re anything like me, you’ll waste no less than 30 gallons of water waiting for it to heat up, only to accomplish little more than giving yourself a nifty variety of first degree burns. Even if adrenaline kicks in and you experience a surge of Herculean strength, you’ll most likely lose your shit and wind up sloshing pickle juice all over your shirt. At this point, doused in briny sadness, it’s probably best to curl up in a ball and start batting those eyelashes at the next person you see who’s got greater hand strength than the Gerber baby.
2. Putting On a Duvet Cover
Seriously, have you ever endeavoured to do this solo? It’s damn near impossible. I myself have almost suffocated under seemingly endless layers of cottony foe more times than I’m comfortable admitting. Nothing exclaims, “I’m single and sleeping alone!” quite like the shapeless, empty top corners of your bed linens, or worse yet, if you’ve really succumb to the treachery of the decorative coverlet, a bare down comforter.
3. If You Want to Ride a Tandem Bike
I mean, come on. Is there anything more likely to drive the general populace ad nauseam with the unmistakable glee of coupledom than a pair of lovebirds on a tandem bike? No, no there is not. Riding one of these bad boys with a platonic partner just doesn’t pack the same Tour de France (that’s a thing, right?) since everyone knows you’re not peddling off into the sunset to bask in each other’s (real or imagined) beauty and pick out china patterns.
If you still fancy yourself a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man, I guess you could always buy a can opener, knit yourself a quilt, and opt for an alternate form of non-vehicular transportation. You go, Glenn Coco.
