Words and phrases not meant to be uttered within the confines of the copy parlor

So, I'm a copy editor at a local alt weekly in Sacramento.

Yup. Fancy. Be kind to any errors you may come across in this blog. Employment in this field does not imply a prerequisite infallibility. Usually just a (humbly kept under wraps, of course) sense of grammatical and intellectual superiority.

Oftentimes in my workday, given that our news is, um, alternative, strange words and phrases will come up in print. Other times, they are simply spoken in the aural vicinity of the copy desk (otherwise known as the copy parlor--we have a pretty pink antique couch). These words comprise a list, seldom obeyed and ignored in perpetuity, that myself and the assistant copy editor wish ne'er to hear or read again.

Understand, I'm not opposed to the slow adoption of Internet jargon and other lazy vernacular that has found its way into the lexicon. Not all of it, anyway--"irregardless" will never be let go by me; I don't care if it's in the damn dictionary. Language is beautiful in large part for its flexibility, and meant to evolve. There's a time, place and context for newbies, which, granted, is changing every day.

Note the rethinking of ba-dunka-dunk on the list to follow, for example. Or this: I never thought I'd find myself ever going without punctuation. And now, sometimes, I feel the open-endedness of a periodless statement can leave a sort of cliffhanger effect, full of angst and, well, listlessness. It lends a sort of depth to an otherwise banal set of words. It can be a bad thing, or it can have the potential for a really "yeah, man, totally" kind of vibe, which we all need sometimes. All in all, a fairly accurate temperature reading of the cultural climate we've found ourselves in at the moment.

I doubt that's what the tween punks taking the Twitter state of mind viral were intending, but then again, intention isn't always synonymous with interpretation, or truth, and it doesn't have to be--art history taught me that one.

I'm getting boring.

The list as it currently sits on the bulletin board:

get 'er done
pizzist
cheers
chya
air guitar
what's doin'
ba-dunka-dunk
not!
top of his/her/their game (and really, any sports analogies/metaphors)
foreverz
LOL, et al.
"deets," as in details
brah
"I'm kind of a big deal"
preggers
scerred/scurred (or any variation on "scared")
butthurt
on-the-go
back 'n' da dizzay
"sneering vocals"
"uh oh" (at deadline only)

Christmas music for Christ's sake

Dear 20th Street holiday ice rink,

I was wrong. The musical stylings of the MARRS building weren't the absolute worst thing ever. They were much quieter, for one. Please stop with the blaring ABBA tracks and "Dude Looks Like a Lady," and commence with the less audible woodwind covers of Guns N' Roses and endless Mazzy Star. Or Christmas music, for Christ's sake. I can't believe I just said that.

Should you refuse, please simply hit shuffle—your alphabetical playlist is driving me completely insane. Also, Billy Idol doesn't sing "Real Wild Child," Iggy Pop does. That was 1986; please try to keep up.

Sincerely,
Kimberly's ears, working from an office building in close proximity

Things I wish my crazy neighbor would yell

OK, so this is a quick and random one, but at least I'm doing this thing finally.

I've got this neighbor in the seven-story building next door, which I'm pretty sure is some sort of mental facility, who quite fancies roaming the streets and yelling stuff. We've taken to calling him Dubby, as in W.B., as in...I can't even remember what that was supposed to stand for. Oh, right. Window breaker. Last week, he punched the glass of out his window during one of his rants. Is this a place where I have a random excuse to use the word "defenestrate?" Probably not. I digress.

Anyway, it's usually just boring stuff, like "Where you at?" and something else about his woman. I think he's picking a fight with some make-believe dude that is apparently trifling with his imaginary lady friend.

Without further ado, here's a short list of things, for my own amusement, I wish my stentorian neighbor would exclaim instead:

1. Oh yeahhh (a la Kool-Aid man)

2. Adrian! Stella! I'm Rick James, bitch!

3. If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding! How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?

4. I pity the fool...

5. How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

6. De plane, boss, de plane!

7. The entire preamble to the Constitution...backwards

8. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain

9. It's not a TOOM-uh

10. "Here we are, face to face, a couple of silver spoons... "

Stay tuned.

For those who are familiar, you know I write lists; it's my lifeblood. But often, a lot more time is spent with my head in the listmaking clouds than is spent checking these notations off as completed. Yet there are many things I could easily say I don't believe I ever would have done, or done as soon, had I not written them down, on my hand, a bar napkin, or nice and tidylike in a notebook or a word doc. There is room for spontaneity, yes, and I do have it, though I could often strike a better balance.

But if lists are a security blanket, call me Linus.

That said, this will not just be a place for lists of things to do. It will be a place to celebrate lists in all their grandiose forms--to do lists, grocery lists, laundry lists, top 10 lists, A lists, D lists, Craigslist--wherever the spirit moves me, productive or otherwise. Because Lord knows, the potential is limitless.

I'll get on this when I am so moved. For now, enjoy this oh-so-true piece from the Onion:
http://www.theonion.com/content/node/38659