Tobacco.
Accolades.
Tobaccolades.
I just read that of adolescents who try cigarettes, only one-third of them go on to become regular smokers.
Which makes sense*, given that a synonym for that age group makes up only one-third of the name of tobacco's addictive agent.**
Nicotine.
Teenager.
Nicoteenager.
* It makes sense if language correlates to reality in random ways, that is.
Arbitrary.
Rarity.
Arbitrarity.
** Syllabically, that is.
Spelling-wise, it makes up half.
But most people care more about speaking than writing, right? (He asked, in writing.)
Bore.
Orthography.
Borethography.
Showing posts with label smoking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label smoking. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Cosmoking
Cosmo.
Smoking.
Cosmoking.
I have an article to pitch to Cosmopolitan Magazine.
Cigarettes are the new black (lung)!
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.
Sistah!
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosistah!
Not only do they darken your insides, they also make your organs skinnier, which makes YOU skinnier!
Thin.
Incognito.
Thincognito.
Another benefit, there's that sexy emphysema voice!
Raspy.
Speech.
Raspeech.
Plus, if you get cancer, chemo makes you even thinner, plus you lose your hair which means only one thing... it's awesome wig time!
Sexy.
Extensions.
Sextensions.
And the ultimate benefit: cigarettes can also be used to burn all of your Cosmopolitans to a crisp, or at least end your life sooner so that you don't have to read as many of them anymore.
You're free of the evil!
Women.
Menace.
Womenace.
Smoking.
Cosmoking.
I have an article to pitch to Cosmopolitan Magazine.
Cigarettes are the new black (lung)!
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.
Sistah!
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosistah!
Not only do they darken your insides, they also make your organs skinnier, which makes YOU skinnier!
Thin.
Incognito.
Thincognito.
Another benefit, there's that sexy emphysema voice!
Raspy.
Speech.
Raspeech.
Plus, if you get cancer, chemo makes you even thinner, plus you lose your hair which means only one thing... it's awesome wig time!
Sexy.
Extensions.
Sextensions.
And the ultimate benefit: cigarettes can also be used to burn all of your Cosmopolitans to a crisp, or at least end your life sooner so that you don't have to read as many of them anymore.
You're free of the evil!
Women.
Menace.
Womenace.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Infinitpicking
Infinite.
Nitpicking.
Infinitpicking.
This might have been a perfect name for the blog.*
I have been called a nitpicker.
But technically, is that what I am?
I don't believe the term necessarily applies, precisely.
Though I suppose it all comes down to what one considers a nit.
And one's definition of picking.
And whether those two concepts come together appropriately such that the compound applies.
Furthermore, how often must those circumstances align?
Does picking one nit a nitpicker make?
Does one bike ride make you a cyclist?
Does one cigarette make you a smoker?
How about two? Three? A hundred?
(A hundred cigarettes probably keeps you from being a cyclist.)
How many nits have to be picked?
One blog posting full?
How about two? Three? A hundred?
Regardless, even if I do pick nits, that is not all I do.
Clearly, I also quibble, I examine, I critique... my schedule is full and varied.
So, while there may be some nitpicking to be found in my life (which is an open book, which I am constantly editing), my identity is not rapped up in so doing (and I will correct anyone who thinks otherwise).
Ergo, I am (provably) not a nitpicker.
And certainly not one of the infinite variety.
* The concept of infinity actually would seem to make the title slightly less than perfect, technically.
Though the longer this post continues, the closer to infinite it gets, and the more infinite it certainly seems and feels.
You be the judge, if you'd like to take issue with my assessment and pick the nit of my nitpickery.
Arbitrate.
Traitor.
Arbitraitor.
Nitpicking.
Infinitpicking.
This might have been a perfect name for the blog.*
I have been called a nitpicker.
But technically, is that what I am?
I don't believe the term necessarily applies, precisely.
Though I suppose it all comes down to what one considers a nit.
And one's definition of picking.
And whether those two concepts come together appropriately such that the compound applies.
Furthermore, how often must those circumstances align?
Does picking one nit a nitpicker make?
Does one bike ride make you a cyclist?
Does one cigarette make you a smoker?
How about two? Three? A hundred?
(A hundred cigarettes probably keeps you from being a cyclist.)
How many nits have to be picked?
One blog posting full?
How about two? Three? A hundred?
Regardless, even if I do pick nits, that is not all I do.
Clearly, I also quibble, I examine, I critique... my schedule is full and varied.
So, while there may be some nitpicking to be found in my life (which is an open book, which I am constantly editing), my identity is not rapped up in so doing (and I will correct anyone who thinks otherwise).
Ergo, I am (provably) not a nitpicker.
And certainly not one of the infinite variety.
* The concept of infinity actually would seem to make the title slightly less than perfect, technically.
Though the longer this post continues, the closer to infinite it gets, and the more infinite it certainly seems and feels.
You be the judge, if you'd like to take issue with my assessment and pick the nit of my nitpickery.
Arbitrate.
Traitor.
Arbitraitor.
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