2001-2005 Other Words

Vocabulary Builder II

It’s been a long week. I first felt the intimations of ailment creeping in last Saturday, and since then I have been in the icy grip of a January cold. This being the case, my sinuses, chest, and stomach have been loaded with phlegm and mucus. Disgusting I know, but like flatulence, congestion is a part of being human.

Because I haven’t being feeling well, I haven’t been running at 100% to take note on the goings-on around me. As such, in lieu of a poignant commentary on my life, I will instead provide you Reduxers with another installment of VOCABULARY-EDIFICATION WITH MIKEY. Enjoy!

babblative – \BAB-luh-tiv\ adjective – garrulous

exempla gratia – Susan was the most babblative woman I met; the only time she would shut up was when I said “SUSAN, WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY?! I DON’T GIVE A SHIT THAT WAYNE IS FUCKING YOUR COUSIN. I DON’T CARE THAT YOU CAN’T FIND YOUR DAMN CAR KEYS! MAYBE IF YOU STOPPED DOING ICE, YOU COULD SLOW DOWN AND THINK ABOUT WHERE YOU LEFT THEM!” She would always be quiet after that.

cacography \kak-AH-gruh-fee\ noun – bad spelling

exempla gratia – “Franco, this job application is full of cacography. You don’t spell ‘bus’ with a K!”

ephemeral \ih-FEH-muh-rul\ adjective – lasting a very short time

exempla gratia – Jim’s life was full of ephemeral moments– especially when in the boudoir. If there was an award for speed-fucking, he would win hands-down. Two minutes? Did he even give her time to take her bra off?

galumph \guh-LUMF\ verb – to move with a clumsy, heavy tread

exempla gratia – Keith galumphed about his castle searching for the last bag of Oreos. Keith’s a sad story, really. He hasn’t been able to leave his house for two years. He can’t get through the threshold of his front door anymore. I’ve heard he weighs 800 pounds. My Mini doesn’t even weigh that much! I’ve also heard he eats kids. I’m not too sure of the veracity of that rumor, although the Thompkins boy brought him Chili’s To-Go once, and he hasn’t been heard from since.

imbroglio \im-BROHL-yoh\ noun – a violently confused or bitterly complicated altercation

exempla gratia – Quite an imbroglio had developed between Hal, Tabitha, and Tameka. Hal had been engaging in intercourse with both of them. It should be stated that Hal had been diagnosed with multiple personality disorder in his teens. I don’t know how it worked out in the bedroom, but Hal was a ghastly, pallid man in his mid-50’s, and Tameka was a heavy-set black woman in her 30’s. He was having sex with himself! How the hell does one do that?

kakistocracy \kak-uh-STAH-kruh-see\ noun – government by the worst people

exempla gratia – Under the current regime, I daresay America’s political system is a kakistocracy, led by an incompetent lying boob, incapable of coherent parol. A monkey could be doing a better job.

navel-gazing \NAY-vul-GAY-zing\ noun – useless or excessive self-contemplation

exempla gratia – Pubescent Jay spent the majority of each day in his bathroom lost in a bout of navel-gazing. That was what he called it at least.

penury \PEN-yuh-ree\ noun – a cramping and oppressive lack of resources (as money); especially : severe poverty

exempla gratia – I remember one year penury had stricken our poor family so badly that instead of Christmas dinner, we were forced to eat Gramma’s eyeballs. They tasted great, served in a bowl of gruel with a light sprinkling of sawdust.

tatterdemalion \tat-er-dih-MAIL-yun\ adjective – ragged or disreputable in appearance

exempla gratia – Manjit entered his job interview looking terrible and tatterdemalion. The holes in his pants were stapled shut; there was a mustard stain on his shirt. He even had an African beefeater on his shoulder eating something out of his hair!

wassail \WAH-sul\ verb – to indulge in riotous drinking

exempla gratia – The trio of Steve, Zeke, and Ed went to Hooters and wassailed on the finest brews their money could buy (Pabst-Blue Ribbon and Bud Light), and they toasted their heroes Lombardi, Ditka, and Stifler. After being ejected from the bar for placing their tips between the supple breasts of Heather, their unfortunate server, they donned their horned helmets and pillaged several of the suburbs surrounding Flint, Michigan.

–This one’s for my dead homies.–

2001-2005 Other Words

People Ask Me All the Time…

I suppose it is high time I address a couple of the momentous changes my life has undergone since the beginning of the year 2004. I would be content in not discussing these things, but it seems others with a vested interest in me want to know. Furthermore, it also appears that these people (who will remain nameless) are too busy with their own schedules to ask me these questions personally. Instead, they go through the vast network of people I know, playing an intricate game of Grapevine to find out news of my exploits in Athens. I understand their problem; since these changes (which I will get to, I promise), my free time has receded to the edges of the day. Before class in the morning and after work in… well, the morning– but the wee hours of it– are the only times I am liberated from the fetters of responsibility. Unfortunately, even these moments are cast in the grey gloom of pending responsibilities. I suppose this is to be expected, though. I’m twenty-one, and time continues to move forward. My days of carefree (or careless, as the case more often was) youth are behind me.

People have been asking me “how is UGA? How do you like Athens? How is your apartment?” My answer to all three questions?

“Gravy. And not that packet gravy. This is the real McCoy; nice, thick gravy. The kind kings would drink with their meals of turkey legs and fatback.”

But seriously, folks.

My answer to the first question: it’s too soon to tell. I enjoy my classes, but until I master the concepts of the subjunctive mood of Latin verbs, the subtle nuances between oral tradition and oral literature, the varied and sedimented layers of Keats’ “Ode to a Nightingale,” the meaning of folklore, and the structure of starches, I really do not know.

Unsurprisingly, I do, however, have a few complaints about UGA thus far:

Textbook Prices.

A perennial complaint of students is the ungodly amount of money they have to spend for college. As if the price of tuition weren’t enough, the cost of textbooks would make even those cookie-cutter kids blush. Fortunately, two of my classes are not using an official textbooks, so I was able to spend about $350 on my books. In semesters past, I have spent up to $500 on books.

Cell phones.

They’re everywhere. I realize that living in Atlanta (the cell phone capital of North America– hello, brain tumors!) I am going to see the occasional cell phone user. I can deal with that. I can’t deal with every kid walking down the street either talking on a cell phone or typing a text message to the girl whose number he got last night. Part of me wants to walk by each kid on a cellular phone, and slap the stupid thing out of his hand– preferably in front of one of the race-buses whipping around the tight esses and elbows of the UGA campus. This is the same part of me that wants to trip kids running down the sidewalk just to see how far they would skid. Let’s call this part of me the “Mister Sadistic.” You may see Mr. S in the future– most likely on your evening news.

The North Face attire.

I just did a quick once-over on the North Face’s website. Most of these “high-performance weatherproof fleece shells” are over $100. Most the moon jackets jerk-offs wear around these parts are at least $250. I used to think it was envy that inspired my distaste for sporters of NF gear, but now I realize NF jackets are another part of the uniform for those cookie-cutter kids. These are the same kids that wear clothes from the expensive mall stores, get their haircuts in salons, and whose parents bought them a new SUV for their 16th birthday and another new SUV for their high school graduation. $250 is just about the aggregate sum of my entire wardrobe. I suppose everyone spends their money differently. These kids may be wearing an outfit that cost them $300, but I have a CD collection worth about $6,000 (or so). To each his own, as the saying goes.

Various kids in my Latin class.

the girl in front of me

  • First, she wears a North Face coat. Second, I think her cat uses it as a bed, and she’s using it as a pillow and a towel. In any event, the thing is coated in animal and human hair. It’s disgusting.

the guy to my right

  • We’ve had two weeks of class, and every day it’s the same outfit: green pants from REI, leather coat, Birkenstocks. Either someone stole his clothes, or he’s practicing for homelessness. Either way, CHANGE YOUR FUCKING PANTS ALREADY.

the girl to my left

  • I think she thinks she’s cute. I don’t know. She’s already missed three days of class, and we haven’t even had the first test yet.

that guy in the back

  • I’m not sure, but I think this kid only showers for special occasions, and class on Thursday apparently does not constitute a special occasion. This kid is the closest thing to the Pig Pen character from the Peanuts comic strip I’ve ever seen. He had mud on his face, for Christ’s sake.

Apartment-related Woes.

I love my new apartment. The silence of solitude has always been something I’ve adored, and now I get it all the time. People ask if I’m lonely living here by myself, but honestly, I am not. Between classes and work, I don’t have time to feel lonely. That being said, my apartment is located less than a mile from the radio tower for WUOG, the college radio station. Due to this, my very plush computer speakers (Altec-Lansing 641’s) play whatever I have on Winamp (currently it’s the new Dizzee Rascal album) along with whatever Jennifer (or whichever amateur disc jockey they have spinning discs) at the WUOG station is playing (currently it’s some type of jazz noise). At first, I thought I was going crazy. A couple days later, I figured out the issue, but I haven’t been able to resolve it. I called Altec-Lansing, and the first time I called I was informed that their customer service hours were Monday-Friday 9 am – 11 pm, Eastern. I was calling on a Monday evening at 7 PM). I called back the next day, and Richard (most likely a fake name– the guy sounded like he was from Columbia) suggested that I get shielded stereo wires. As such, I went to the Radio Shack and procured the wires, only to find that they did absolutely nothing to alleviate the radio interference. Excepting moving my system to another apartment, I believe my only options at this point are to completely rewire the speakers or build little insulated hovels for the four speakers. Either way, it is going to be a huge pain in my ass.

Speaking of pains in my ass, my Internet connection is currently being one as well. The router Bret provided me is not working very well, so my connection continues to get dropped, resulting in poor download and upload speeds. Yesterday, I went to Best Buy to get a switch, and that did nothing. In fact, it made things worse. I could only get one computer connected at a time. Bret’s coming to the apartment this weekend, so hopefully the two of us can get things up and running strong.

Being the Nomenclator, I have also felt it necessary to christen my new living space with a unique moniker. Some of my past dwellings have included the Soul Kitchen (the dorm at McWhorter), the Green Room (my room at Bo and Leslie’s house), the G-Spot (heh, the house in Milledgeville), and the Closet (the little cement cell at the Heads’). So far, I haven’t found the most appropriate name for my new digs. Here are a few of the names I’ve been considering:

Copernicus…the Apartment
Beowulf’s Meadhall
Corsiva Fields
Shadow…the Apartment

Yeah, so I really need to think harder about this. Those names fucking suck.


I like girls in low-rise pants as much as the next guy. There’s nothing like a pair of pants that just barely covers a girl’s aitchbone to make sure you notice it. Unfortunately, certain girls have picked up on this trend who should not have. These are the girls who, try as they might, simply cannot lose the weight, but still love the style of their featherweight friends. These overfed fashionistas wear the same clothes their skinnier counterparts do, and inevitably they end up showing a little bit more flesh than they probably would like and more than I would like to see. I’ll be meandering across the open expanse of the Student Learning Center and BAM! A wide ass with a dark fault line in the middle will smack me in the side of the face. Or I’ll be sitting in class, and I’ll happen to glance down, only to see a dark, shadowy river of ass-crack flowing out of some chunky girl’s pants. Unfortunately, I really have no spine when it comes to speaking my mind, so I don’t say anything to save these girls from further embarrassment and my eyes from further etiolation. If Mr. S would ever show a little backbone and pipe up with something like…

“Hey Lardo! Stop wearing thongs! Start wearing pants that fit!”
“You know, they make shirts in sizes larger than medium. Perhaps you should check them out.”
“Smocks aren’t just for beatniks anymore.”
“Despite what Joan Rivers says, muu-muus are chic this winter.”
“Stomach-bypass surgery is getting more affordable. Mom’s health insurance may even cover it– unlike those hip-huggers you’re wearing.”
“Your ass is hairier than mine. I wouldn’t know this disturbing information if you would FUCKING WEAR PANTS THAT FIT. I WILL PAY FOR BIGGER PANTS. LET’S GO TO SEARS RIGHT NOW.”

I am sure I could think of other things to kvetch about, but my biggest complaint about UGA…


Seriously, I don’t give a shit that you couldn’t find a parking space in the Classics lot. I really don’t care that you have to walk an extra 500 yards from your car to your class, just because you couldn’t get your regular space. Fucking get over it. The exercise will do you some good. Your ass is on Mapquest; did you know that? YOUR BIG, FAT ASS! Fucking shut up about your work load already. Try working 35 hours a week on top of 16 hours of school. Then, add a pinch of time for sleep, and thne come talk to me about work loads. Honestly, people. Every person has it tough. The clouds aren’t just hanging over your miserable little life. Really, he didn’t call? Maybe it is because he was FUCKING YOUR ROOMMATE, you little slutty-ass slut. Who fucking cares abou-

Hmm…it looks like Mr. S decided to make an appearance in this post– interesting. Anyway, that’s how life at UGA is. I’m very busy, but if anyone wants to come for a visit, I’ll be more than happy to have you.

Bring beer!

“Clinky? Yes, yes– clinky.”

2001-2005 Other Words

About the Author, January 2004

Full Name: Michael Warren Ollinger
DOB: The early 1980’s. It was a Wednesday in May.
Location: Athens, GA USA
AIM: thenomenclator
Occupation(s): customer support for Auctionworks, video games, reading, writing, university, etc.
5 albums (1/04): UNKLE – Psycence Fiction, Slum Village – Fantastic, Vol. 2, Radiohead – Kid A, Spiritualized – Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space, David Cross – Shut Up You Fucking Baby!
Food(s): whatever I find on the forest floor, tacos, red beans and rice
Fluids: Tropicana Pure Premium, Heineken, and Evian
TV shows: Sopranos, South Park, the Daily Show, Mr. Show, the Simpsons, and Futurama
Films: Kill Bill, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Fight Club, Pulp Fiction, and Amelie
Last three films (1/04): Return of the King, House of Sand and Fog, Big Fish
Pet peeves: Reality TV, Yorkshire terriers, anything on television that isn’t listed above
Pets: little black Nyx, a geriatric hamster, of whom I reluctantly agreed to take ownership
Single, married, or what?: Yes, what.
Read: Portnoy’s Complaint, Old Man and the Sea, Fight Club, Kick Me
See also: Mikey Live*
*Most likely will NOT be live.

2001-2005 Other Words

Build Your Vocabulary with Mikey!

Instead of updating you on the current goings-on in my life, I figured I would provide an invaluable service to all four of you that frequent GDO-R. As you may have noticed, I have a fairly broad vocabulary, and I don’t mind flaunting it. In fact, I daresay I love flaunting it. This bodes well for me in academic circles, but it unfortunately alienates me from many of my peers. Oftentimes, I am chastised within my coterie for “smart-talking.” [It should be noted here that the lion’s share of my clique are not college-educated.] As such, in an effort to share my extensive knowledge of language, I bring you VOCABULARY-EDIFICATION WITH MIKEY. Rather than committing myself to something I know I cannot deliver, I will simply state that I plan to make this a recurring feature of GDO-R, however, there will be no regularity to the recurrence of the series. With the exposition and other such formalities out of the way, let’s get to building your lexicon!

august \aw-GUST or AW-gust\ adjective – marked by majestic dignity or grandeur

exempla gratia – Gretchin and Graham wanted to get married on the tallest mountain in the Himilayas, the august Mount Everest. Sadly, Gretchin was forced to resort to cannibalism when an avalanche buried the other five members of the wedding party. It was fortunate that her sherpa guide knew several recipes, including one for an excellent cajun-fried leg of Graham.

bibelot \BEE-buh-loh\ noun – a small household ornament or decorative object : trinket

exempla gratia – Marla had several bibelots and accoutrements adorning the shelves in her modest home. Her most prized possession, however, was a false phallus supposedly used by Eleanor Roosevelt. It sat proudly and defiantly erect atop her fireplace mantle.

deglutition \dee-gloo-TIH-shun or deh-gloo-TIH-shun\ noun – the act or process of swallowing

exempla gratia – Heather always gagged when she tried deglutition, so she spat instead.

florilegium \flor-uh-LEE-jee-um\ noun – a volume of writings : anthology

exempla gratia – Larry had been working on a florilegium of his bawdy limericks for several years. Before he could complete his life’s work, he died. Instead of a eulogy, his wife, Florence, read his now-infamous “The Man from Nantucket.”

gauche \GOHSH\ adjective – lacking social experience or grace; also : not tactful : crude

exempla gratia – Bobette’s social graces are in dire need of polishing. The gauche woman once shouted in a restaurant full of people that she found a hair in her kickin’ chicken wrap. This was before she got the Rogaine for women.

hypocorism \hye-PAH-kuh-rih-zum or hye-puh-KOR-ih-zum\ noun – a pet name

exempla gratia – I never understood why Frank had been given the hypocorism the “Wooly Mammoth” by our friends until I went with him to the gym. Men can shave down there too, you know.

katzenjammer \KAT-sun-jam-er\ noun – hangover

exempla gratia – The wild party and baker’s dozen of Cuervo shots left Jamie with a severe katzenjammer and a scorching case of herpes.

meshuggener \muh-SHOO-guh-ner\ (“OO” as in “foot,” not as in “boot”) noun – a foolish or crazy person

exempla gratia – Kenny was always the meshuggener of our friends. We could rely on him to put lampshades on his head and to put other extremities in rather unorthodox places like shampoo bottles and jacuzzi jets– well, until that one time disaster struck. Kenny’s still crazy; now he just has to pee into a bag.

pedantic \pih-DAN-tik\ adjective – unimaginative, pedestrian

exempla gratia – The use of simile is so overused that it’s rather pedantic. Using similes to compare two things is like jaywalking– everybody does it.

widdershins \WIH-der-shinz\ adverb – in a left-handed, wrong, or contrary direction


–Post over, Mikey out.

2001-2005 Other Words

Pants: Society Killer

Here is another article from my tenure at BG’s. Yeah, it’s stupid; yeah, it’s inane. But hell, it’s pretty funny.

I believe I have uncovered (after much deliberation…I had to narrow it down between this and any movie with Jennifer Lopez) the worst thing Man has ever created. I know that a man is responsible for creating this because on the whole, we are the dumber sex, and we do anything to please whatever to which we have an emotional or sexual attachment.

This abomination was and will be the cause of several wars. It was also responsible for the death of not only Martin Luther King, Jr., but also George Burns. This fabrication is responsible for the Great Depression, the assassinaton attempt on Ronald Reagan, and probably worst of all- Hanson. What could it possibly be you ask? Well, I don’t think you really ask yourself aloud, “What could this terrible creation Mikey speaks of possibly be? Is it morphine? Is it a chemical weapon? Is it a spork? What?”

The answer, my friends, is simple– pants. Pants are responsible for the downfall of civilization.

When Man was first trying out fashions, he didn’t long to wrap his legs in cloth and keep his member all caged up. He wanted to let it roam free and romp about with womanhoods and the other manhoods (or is it menhood?). Anyway, women realized that if a man’s Johnson was just flapping in the wind, there’s no way anything would get done. Men would start complaining about the flies and the smegma (this was long before civilization embraced the hygienic wonder of circumcision), and the woman would have to cope with the bitching… So some woman thought, Cover the stupid thing up! And while you’re at it, make sure them quadriceps are covered, they’re scaring the children. Thus, pants were born.

It’s common knowledge that World War II was started because some Jewish German made a comment to Hitler, saying “Hey goofball- you can’t wear white pants. Your complexion is much too pasty for that. I can’t tell where torso ends and the fabric begins.” Well, what this Yid didn’t know was that Hitler burned extremely easily, and he preferred white pants to anything else.

Before his significant strides in African-Americans’ attainment of equal civil rights, Martin Luther King was known far and wide for his immense pants collection. He only had one oxford shirt, but the multitude of pants he had! Whoever killed him undoubtedly wanted to pilfer some of those sexy capris King was always strutting around in.

George Burns choked to death on a pair of pants.

During the 1920’s pants were all the rage. Come 1929, pants were fading faster than a T-shirt in the sun, and at that time, most of the publicly-traded stocks were textiles…also known as pants. What I never could figure out though, was what was going to follow pants as a piece of clothing. Pants had monopolized the entire bottom half of men.

I needn’t explain the connection between pants and the Gipper’s brush with death (well, seeing as he’s older than most of the dirt I walk on, one of his closer brushes with death. Shit, if that guy wiped out in a room full of marshmallows, he’d be finished.).

If Adam, Taylor, and Zack’s stupid father didn’t look so damn sexy in those tight Levi’s, those three middle school minstrels would still be three eggs and three sperm.

By now, I know what you’re thinking, This is all well and good, but what can I, a lowly reader of a website, do about it? I’m glad you asked, lowly reader. You can take off your pants. Lose the Levi’s, drop the Dockers, and hang the Haggar slacks. Start wearing alternative forms of ass-and-wang-covering. May I suggest kilts, loincloths, barrels, assorted fruits, and maybe the occasional nothing at all?