"Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work." ~Carl Sandburg
Though I hate to admit it, I'm a talker. In fact, if you wanted to be accurate and, well, kind of a dick, you would say that I'm my own goddamn sewing circle. I've tried to convince myself that I project a still-waters-running-deep mystique not wholly unlike say Harrison Ford, or Abraham Lincoln in his young heart throb faze, but that just ain't true. I come from a long line of tittering screechy women and along with my mother's birthing hips, I inherited the gift of gab. I have seriously sat by myself in my living room and had a fifteen minute animated conversation, completely alone, about how much I wanted a sandwich… I guess I had to talk my useless and distended body into getting up and making one as both the corpus and the mouth-hole would benefit from such a venture. I'm not exactly proud of it, but its true. So naturally, me and words have an intricate and embarrassing relationship. But I'm no longer disheartened by this fact. Actually, I've decided that me and words are about to quit fighting the urge, shed our awkward and shoegazing tete a tete, and go to the dork prom together, Pretty in Pink style. Like an 8th graders Jansport, I'm going to strive to make my words reflect, in a slightly more specific manner, exactly who I am as a person without having to actually talk about…well…me. I thought about it, and I've zeroed in on the word AWESOME, which I use so much that I can barely type it anymore. Awesome is to my 20's what "like" was to my teens. I'm sick of saying it, but I'm no where near sick of expressing it. Robots, Space ships, time travel, barbacoa…there is so much in the world that is awesome which is also so much MORE. What do I mean by awesome? Awe inspiring… sure. very impressive… ok. Fucking Redonkuloid…hell yes…but still, there's some layer, some aura of "FUCK YEAH!" missing. It was suggested to me that the word I was looking for was NACHOS, and for a second I agreed heartily, but then I realized that I've had bad nachos, and I've never had bad awesome. 'Cause bad awesome is just lame.
I'm rambling though. Here's the deal. From now on, I will make it my mission to replace both the word and conceptual weight of awesome with FIRETRUCK. That's right, FIRETRUCK. I double dog dare anybody who reads this to give me one bad aspect of FIRETRUCK. They're huge, loud, fun to say, they save your life, and they fucking shoot water out at like ten or twelve times the speed of sound. Also, at anytime day or night, they may or may not contain a spotted dog named sparky, sparks, spark plug, or Mr. Sparkletron. I KNOW!
Having trouble understanding all this bullshit? Here's a quick primer:
The eight dollar whiskey I bought last Friday, dude, was FIRETRUCK.
When I was eleven and I got to go to space camp, THAT was FUCKING FIRETRUCK.
Ever been stuck in traffic, gotten a flat tire, AND were already late for work? Not FIRETRUCK.
The last time you were super hungry and you went and picked up nachos that were goddamn amazing? That first bite…FIRETRUCK motherfucker, FIRETRUCK.
Now you try.
