Paid in Trail Mix

A Facebook Poem – May 21, 2018

Now I smoke pot with students,

Tell dirty jokes in verse,

Watch fucked up movies that make me

Feel like screaming for free soup.

I host kareoke and enjoy prosperity

Unbruised, skin calloused by time.

My bank got robbed, but this

Bandage will keep the blood from flowing,

And eventually my woman instincts

Will kick in and I’ll

Make us some sandwiches.

Advertisements

Every Piece

Photo by Yuri Levin on Unsplash

A Facebook Poem – May 17, 2018

 

Every piece of us fits together,

Even as we change.

We crown our PMS bitchiness with daisies,

Rings of body fat woven in.

We pay for prime Laurel / Yanny,

Binge our favorite shows and feel like freaks

Getting car sick on the mountains.

 

There must be a way out of this.

A ha! And a hi-yah! And a kick in the tits!

We need someone to hug us

Without acting like we’re asking for attention.

We really need Festivus, an airing of grievances.

We need to help Facebook scientists cure

Our infertility. This is our first time.

 

Every piece of us fits together.

 

Our resting bitch faces scare men who catcall.

We take no shit and resign ourselves

To real mad money, finding the perfect age

To make mad money, to stay home on bed rest

Asking friends if they can relate.

 

Even as we change.

 

The first time I saw Judge Judy’s legs,

She was still in a sitting position,

Pointing to a portion plate,

Telling me what to eat.

So I ate a hawaiin shirt without a ‘stache

And a salesman tried to guilt trip me

When I gave the finger to the corporate fat cats.

 

Every piece of us fits together,

Even as we change.

Every piece.

Podcast Psychology

A Facebook Poem – April 8, 2018

 

The worst spelling of my name is Friday.

I go wayfaring in dreams, pick purse enamel

From hate, drain irate parental comments.

A wonderful theme, this time, this art

Born in the wrong era. I won’t wear a bra

Or make rainbow chard into old farts.

 

Wooden wedding notes ruin my honeymoon.

I write fractions as a person to apologize for.

I want the hottest hassle, the biggest bang.

Yes, please, customize my box, eat my munch.

My brain increases negative, stimulates heroic elements,

Super-charged focus for remarkable satisfaction,

Planned and carefully created.

 

Success is a mind-reaching high on a golden mile,

Rocks dropped on heads headed for splitsville,

A song on a Sunday agenda.

My future self met new friends and took pictures

To prove they exist.

I refuse to clean until weather turns warm, not yet.

This safety net covers your podcast psychology

But won’t keep me from getting wet.

 

Photo by Maranatha Pizarras on Unsplash

Get the Hell Outta Dodge

When you turn to your co-conspirator and whisper under your breath, “It might be time to get the hell outta Dodge,” it’s time to leave the premises as soon as possible. If you don’t, you’ll likely get caught committing a crime.

This line comes up in a play I’m currently rehearsing, but “get the hell outta Dodge” isn’t an idiom you hear very often these days. The reason is because it originates from a television show which ran from 1955 – 1975, Gunsmoke.

Set in Dodge City, Kansas, the show featured a marshal named Matt Dillon, who struck fear in the heart of any villainous character who crossed his path. So much so that these criminals would rather flee town than face Dillon.

 

Sources:

WordWizard

Disappearing Idioms

Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash

 

Grunt Infantrymen

Right now I am reading Grunt: The Curious Science of Humans at War by Mary Roach, and I started to consider the word grunt and why it’s used to refer to infantrymen in the military. As per usual, I had to do some digging and found that grunt has been used as far back as the early 1900s in reference to a person who does menial, low-level labor. This is not surprising given that grunt is often the type of low, gutteral noise a person makes while performing this type of work.

Grunt was used as military slang during Vietnam and first appeared in print in this context in 1969. It wasn’t until 1977, however, that grunt work was used in print. Some hypotheses on why grunt became widely used in the military is because infantrymen, or grunts, often perform physically demanding, difficult but not mentally challenging menial work. A soldier might also make a grunting sound when shouldering a heavy weapon.

There were many untrained soldiers sent to the front lines in WWII, due to mass casualties. The soldiers brought in were referred to as grunts. There is also an acronym, which most likely came AFTER soldiers were already referred to as grunts – General Replacement UNTrained soldiers – or GRUNTs.

Oftentimes, we see words that started as just words and then were later purported to have been acronyms. For instance, the word fuck is often falsely explained as an acronym for Fornication Under Consent of the King. In fact, the word fuck predates the recorded history of acronyms altogether so there is no possible way it could have begun as an acronym. If you want a military acronym, you can look to SNAFU – Situation Normal All Fucked Up, which is much more entertaining, anyway.

Along my search, I also stumbled upon a new-to-me word, sobriquet. It’s pronounced with a hard t (even though it looks like bouquet, it’s pronounced more like briquette). A sobriquet is a fancy-sounding word for a nickname, something like a grunt, for instance instead of infantrymen.

Sources:

Grunt – Online Etymology Dictionary

History, Infantry & Sobriquets – Grunts & Co

Photo by Obed Hernández on Unsplash

Like a Lotioned Glove

A Facebook Poem – January 28, 2018

 

My “more food” face killed any chance at fitness,

Like a new sports bra, supportive but binding.

We ate takeout from a cheap cafe and crafted

Words, composed words in sentences,

Struggled and desired suffering, joy, justice, love,

Abstract concepts like a quick moving virus.

Only mild pain and uneasiness remain.

Which means we can celebrate and maintain

Finding calm ways to party.

 

I didn’t get my eight glasses today.

I’m not diluted enough to think Trump is the most racist president

But he is codename Penelope and he never goes outside.

Last night he ran, despite the fact he doesn’t even like

The colorful world beyond the White House.

 

I started these new supplements and now

I’m less bloated, I crave water, I take leaps of faith

Off buildings, I get inspired 10 times a day,

I make love and I hunger and I get free Amazon deliveries.

I feed my face for the children. I worship Americanism.

I eat flavored bath bombs because they just smell so good.

 

So I brought my ass out after finding a family member

Unconscious on heroin, resuscitated in Hell.

I will answer any and all questions with a gif.

Feel free to steal this status.

Keep this lazy mama warm and resolve to make 2018

The year of yoga classes and cute baby pics.

 

I remember when real love was something I could just

Sink into, like a lotioned glove.

 

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash