Wordlog
steatopygia
Anthropology: The condition of having large deposits of fat on the buttocks, as in Hottentot and Bushmen women. The stylized steatopygia of an Upper Paleolithic statuette found in southern Europe indicates the possbility that this present-day Capoid specialty may have been commoner in Caucasoids at this early period. Derived from Greek stear, steatos, fat, and pyge, buttocks. (In other words, "baby got back").
(Language of the Specialists)
imprecate
to invoke evil or utter curses on
(Merriam-Webster Online)
calumniate
to utter maliciously false statements, charges, or imputations about
(Merriam-Webster Online)
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Booklog
Coin Locker Babies by Ryu Murakam
The woman pushed on the baby's stomach and sucked its penis into her mouth; it was thinner than the American menthols she smoked and a bit slimy, like raw fish.
Collected Fictions by Jorge Luis Borges
In 1517, Fray Bartolomé de las Casas, feeling great pity for the Indians who grew worn and lean in the drudging infernos of the Antillean gold mines, proposed to Emperor Charles V that Negroes be brought to the isles of the Caribbean, so that they might grow worn and lean in the drudging infernos of the Antillean gold mines.
Finished
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"The Color on My Cube Wall is a Dull Taupe"
posted Wednesday, October 24, 2001:
I go through about fifty different emotions, daily, and I'm surprised my heart hasn't exploded or at least sputtered like a pneumatically exhaling baloon by this time in the afternoon. I feel okay; fine, really. I can talk myself out of any depressive, pessimistic or negative attitude. It's something I've always been rather proud of. Right now, the emotion I'm going through is grrr-anger. Work is pissing me off and not for the usual, agressive reasons like annoying coworkers or unreasonable expectations or poor conditions but because I'm sitting here all day long typing and fidgiting with this tracker and coding, while screaming "WHATTHEFUCKAMIDOINGHERE?" over and over in my head. And it's sad, really, because I come into work with good-little-boyscout enthusiasm beaming from my face like I've just gotten out of the tanning salon and all that energy just goes right down the tubes around 11 a.m. What a waste. Sure, maybe I'm just frustrated because my coding ability isn't enough to get what I want done and I'm berating myself for always expecting one of my more experienced coworkers to help me figure out a solution. The one I normally turn to is letting me figure the current problems out on my own. I can feel it like he just erected a cold wall of air right between our cubes. And I'm sitting here typing in my journal, but I don't feel the least bit apologetic because I've been working straight since I came in this morning. Code. Compile. Test. Code. Compile. Test. Code. Compile. Test. Work. Eat. Sleep. Work. Eat. Sleep. Work. Eat. Sleep.
Usually, The Onion makes me laugh, but today it made me feel really sad because my horoscope says, "You will spend the next 40 years of your life desperately preparing for the final 10," and at first I thought, How funny, that is so true. But then I thought, How sad, that is so true. «
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