The Smiling Infidel Word Of The Day: The Ides Of March Edition

I HATE Urban Dictionary!


Every fantastical word concoction we've come up with has already been covered over there and associated with vile unspeakable things.


Except ANOREXICAN. That one is all MINE.


Anyway, for the past couple years we've employed a catch-all phrase when something smells rotten in Denmark. 

By combining the lovely Irishness of the word malarkey with the majestic agricultural beauty of the profane bullsh*t we've unleashed a new hybrid known as BULLARKEY!

BULLARKEY can help you with all your ranting, raving, and appropriate Mormon-styled cussing needs.

BULLARKEY may even assist in you finding fame and fortune as you introduce it among your friends and families and see it spread like a wildfire that can only be triggered by a stack of New Slang Dictionaries set aflame by a professor wearing a coat with velvet elbow patches carelessly puffing away on his pipe.

Then one day you'll be immortalized as the founder, creator, and proprietor of one of the most widely used words in the English language.......BULLARKEY!

What The Smiling Infidel Is Listening To Right Now!

Okay, I've been enamored by the epic band TV On The Radio for several years now although I find their sound sort of hit or miss.

In other words they're the musical equivalent of "The Girl With The Curl."

When they're good, they're VERY good. But when they're bad, they're simply awful.

However, I've heard three new tracks from their upcoming CD entitled Nine Types Of Light and they are each and every one made of pure, unadulterated WIN!

The pre-released track "Caffeinated Consciousness" is available for FREE download right now and of course so is "Will Do."

"Will Do" is awesomeness especially because the main lyrics waxes on about "volcanic calderas" and I just learned all about calderas last semester in Geology.

Not too often do you find modern music referencing nerdy things like that.In your face Lady Gaga/Britney Spears/Ke$hA and all other talentless autotune hacks.

Anyway, if you're hankering for past greatness from TV On The Radio, I highly recommend "Crying" and the darkly broody-moody "DLZ."

The thing that amuses me the most about this group is that they feature a token white guy in their midst.

Most indie alternative bands have the requisite token black dude done up in certified hipster gear but not TV On The Radio. They do things differently.

I aspire to one day be the token geeky, white, fat hipster chick, too.

The Smiling Infidel Word Of The Day: Learning New Vocab The Infidel Way!

My Sexy-Mexi husband Papi has recently embarked on a triumphant weight loss regimen in which he's dropped a staggering 30 pounds in less than six weeks time.
He wants to lose another 10 so that he fits the average weight-height chart specifications of 150 pounds.
The problem with that is that the creators of these charts have a one-size-fits-all mentality and they don't take important things into account like abnormal head sizes, or extreme body hair, or gold teeth because I'm sure all that adds extra weight to a person.
Anyway, my Papi has a gargantuan head atop his very petite 5'6 body.
The more weight he loses the more prominent the disparity.
I told him that with his light brown skin he's starting to resemble a caramel candied apple on a stick.
My very righteous and spiritual Papi shot me his dainty middle finger in response.
I'm not scared of him because I now outweigh him. I can wrap my arms around him and pick him up.
Yesterday I swung Papi around the kitchen....much to his displeasure.
I told him that's part of the trials and tribulations he must suffer as punishment for marrying a woman who's bigger than him.
Before work today Papi continued lamenting that he hasn't lost any weight in 2 days when my fat self finally snapped and informed him that he's dangerously close to becoming an anorexican.
Yeah, an ANOREXICAN......a Mexican who's consumed with an unhealthy/unflattering weight loss obsession.
And that is your Infidel Word Of The Day. Go forth my peeps and try to use ANOREXICAN at least once in a sentence.
Then, when you've exhausted the possibilities to throw in a random ANOREXICAN or two, look into joining my new 80's Lingo Resurrection Society.
I'm doing my part. I introduced the kids at church to the lost word "boss." Now they use it instead of the more popular "beast." Dude, that's so BOSS!
My amazing dentist, Dr. Thomas Hernandez is trying his hardest to bring "NO DOY!" back from the edge of expression extinction. It's kind of like that song "He's Bringing No Doy Back......Hey!"
I firmly believe that with a few word nerds on our side that together we can reinstitute the lost glory of choice 80's grammar for a whole new generation.
Awesome? Yeah, like NO DOY!

Terrific Tunes Tuesday (Foster The People-HOUDINI)

FOSTER THE PEOPLE just released this song last week.........
Upon hearing it I immediately ponied up the .99 cents to add it to my extensive iPod music collection......
It actually makes me want to get up and exercise.........
I love this song so much I would commit polyandry to marry it.......
I plan on putting this song on indefinite replay because it transports me to a magical world.......
A world where autotune nightmares like Ke$ha are punished for their musical crimes with a nice vocal cord clamp........

All I Need Is A (MATH) Miracle!

A isn't just for Algebra. It also stands for Agonzing, Annoying, Apocalyptic, and Aggravating. It's doubtful that there will be any A for Awesome showing up on my transcript this semester.
Have mercy, 18 years has served to completely obliterate the miniscule amount of equation-solving knowledge left in my brain.
Mathmagician, Mathologist, Mathlete......these are all words that will never be used to describe me.

My Brother Is The Non-Caped Ketchup Cleaning Crusader!

I'm always in awe of the legendary innovativeness of my family.
It's as though we sprang from the sacred hoo-hoo of The Mother of Invention herself!
Anyway, my 22 year-old brother may have lost his job due to to a newer kind of sport I'll dub "EXTREME PROBLEM SOLVING."
See, he's afflicted with a chromosomal disorder similar to Down's Syndrome but he's high functioning enough to secure placement in a work skills program at school.
Alas, Amelia Bedelia Syndrome may also play a part in this sad, sad tale of well-meaningness gone horribly awry.
Anyway, the manager of the restaurant at my brother's latest job site instructed him to go out to the patio and clean all the ketchup bottles.
Always the dutiful employee, my brother did exactly as he was told.
The problem? Well, the problem is that he cleaned the ketchup bottles by meticulously licking each and every one until they shone brilliantly; something only a potent spit varnish will accomplish.
I'm the mother of picky pickers and a sister to a real live ketchup licker.
Awesome!
The teacher in charge called my mom to notify her of my brother's kitty kat-bath-meet-ketchup-bottle cleaning technique in what had to rank as the most awkward conversation ever.
Puzzled, my mom just kept repeating, "But he doesn't even like ketchup."
How many licks to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop? The world may never know.
How many licks to clean a ketchup bottle? Ask my brother who is now presumably the newest ketchup-licking champion of the world.
I can't wait for a fast and furious match-up between him and the CATSUP-licking champion of the world because that'll undoubtedly be a feat of condiment epicness that Pay Per View will add to their lineup.
Advice For Ketchup Bottle Cleaning Day:
A cleaning rag that's handy is dandy.......... but to licker is quicker!

I Should Be Crowned Queen Of The Dirty Santa Game

Dirty Santa=White Elephant

Got it? Good!
Anyway I wrapped up my awesome gift for the exchange in the most festive glittery silver Happy Chanukah paper before adding dangling blue balls ornaments to the ginormous bow.
Party patrons WANTED it. The gift got stolen and re-stolen and for a moment the gathering nearly turned into a Mormon Mosh Pit of Madness as frenzied fingers grappled for the present.
Not really, but it was highly sought after and now I'll show you photographic evidence of why:

This be the picture affixed to the top of the plain white box that obscured the hidden wonders tucked neatly within.
I'm sending this pic to my man Mitt so he can use it in his 2.0 Presidential Campaign Relaunch.
Big Pimpin' Mitt 2012.....ooohhhhh yeeeaaahhhh!

 

And here be the Big Pimpin' Booty!
The only parameters of the game stipulated that the gift must not exceed 10 bucks and it should be goofy but still practical.
Well, what MO wouldn't want to serve up their guests out of a set of authentic Tupac Shakur shooter glasses? The marijuana leaf motif is super classy!
Tupac was the victim of an unknown shooter and now he's immortalized on shooter glasses.
Dang, I love me some irony!

Stuff From 2010 I Hope Never Happens Again: Part 1

While gathered together with my family at the dinner table for our traditional Christmas Day dinner I glimpsed my mother gazing at me wonderingly.
I honestly thought she was going to uncharacteristically burst forth with a display of maternal emotion to gather me in her motherly arms while smothering me with love and exclamations of how profoundly grateful she is for me, her one and only daughter.
I smiled widely at her in anticipation.
And then,  my mother extended a single finger to tenderly touch the side of my face before recoiling in horror and blurting out "Holy crap what is that? Are those SIDEBURNS?!!!?? You really need to take care of that, Fifi* because you look absolutely ridiculous like you're trying to channel Elvis or something."
Everyone seated at the table laughed. I felt really self-conscious and put my turtleneck shirt up over my face so that only my eyes remained unobscured.......like a Ninja Elvis.
It's obvious this blog should be renamed The Smiling Sideburn.
I'll look into that today.

*Fifi is my mom's nickname for me since the horrible home perm experiment that went tragically awry in the mid 80's

BUSTED!

After a couple months of sparring with my somewhat pretentious English Professor my moment(s) of extreme vindication finally arrived.
He is and was the most conflicted liberal I've ever met.
Professor I-Know-More-Than-You continuously espoused his firm belief that President Obama would ascend to soaring Presidential heights in order to solve all of the world's ills. A Presidential Messiah, if you will.
This would be acceptable in a Government class. However, his breathy exaltations proved annoying when in the context of an English course.
Yet, he and his wife are also extreme Catholic pro-life activists who protested outside of Houston's new Planned Parenthood headquarters where Nancy Pelosi was on hand for the festivities.
He labeled my essay decrying the Obama administration repeal of the Mexico City Act which will funnel taxpayer money into the funding of abortion on an international scale as "bombastic" and "incendiary."
Conflicted, for sure.
Anyway, in a futile attempt to tug at our heartstrings and manipulate our emotions into compassion for struggling students on the campus he always tried to tell us the worst hard luck stories he could muster up.....he could have saved his breath.
Our class was comprised of students working several jobs, going to school and juggling family responsibilities.
We all know that attending college is a choice in which some sacrifices must be made. Therefore, his stories about his students in other classes teetering on the brink of starvation because of their tuition expense or working so hard they found themselves in near fatal car accidents just made most of us roll our eyes.
If those stories are true I think Professor Know-It-All was getting played for a fool by some calculating kids who knew they could milk him for vending machine money and/or an assignment extension.
So, one class period he fires up his propaganda machine and starts telling us the gut-wrenching story of one particularly unfortunate student of his who has been bounced around from foster home to foster home her entire life because her hippie mom abandoned her. She eventually goes to live with her grandma who arranges a much-anticipated reunion with the girl's mom who does show up but lets it slip within the girl's earshot that she only came because the grandma paid her to.
Sound familiar?
It should, because it's the main plot line of the classic book "The Great Gilly Hopkins."
Never one to restrain my thoughts I blurted out to Professor Know-It-All "Hey, by any chance is this girl named Gilly Hopkins?"
I won. I actually transformed a relatively shameless man into a state of embarrassed sheepishness as he strained to immediately change the subject to something else.
Awesome.
I'm positive Professor Know-It-All had previously enraptured countless classes with his harrowing tale of human misery that turned out to be completely fictional.
The moral of the story is to teach your kids not to be beholden to any one person and elevate them to an impossibly high status because for the most part people lie.
People do lie, but I hereby solemnly swear that this post is the honest truth. :)

A Veritable Potpourri Of Pet Store Poppycock

Anyway, Poppycock is the official Infidel Word Of The Day. As such, I hope and yearn (bet you thought I was going to say pray, didn't you? Poppycock Prayers are blasphemous!) that you will henceforth find every opportunity you can to drop the word poppycock.
Anyway, we went to Petco today because our gorgeous pettable (Yeah, we pet our fish, and? At least we didn't name them Mrs. Paul and Gorton) Siamese fighting fish Phoenix and Poseidon have decided that they have such a sophisticated palate that they can't possibly dine on the .99 cent package of fish food I scored at the .99 Cents Only store. Snobs. Don't they know there are fish starving in Africa that would love to have their aquarium kibble?
Anyway, we spied with our Infidel eyes a garishly pink hamster cage. I asked aloud "Why? Why? Why?" Sunbum said "It's obviously a hamster-led stance for breast cancer awareness."

Anyway, we then spotted a box for a ferret habitat called "Ferretville." Sadly, it did NOT come with a lost shaker of salt, a sponge cake, or a woman to blame. The lettering on the box was in an unfortunate font style rendering the name to look like this: FEPPETVILLE. Sunbum blurted out "Hey, it's FEPPETVILLE where they make evil abomination hybrids out of a Muppet and a ferret!" "I think that Jimmy Muppet would probably cover a bitchin' song version of FEPPETVILLE. "Wasted away again in FEPPETVILLE.....searching for my lost baggy of dung....some people say that there's a weasel to blame....but I know, it's my own damn fault."

Anyway, and then we ran into a lady from church where we then proceeded to talk about our guinea pigs and their "furry butt chaps" that we have to trim on a regular basis.
Anyway, the cashier was an effeminate black dude and he kept loudly singing songs about Jesus at the register. We were his backup....temporarily. It was a long line and we got bored so we started singing "We got the fish flakes in our hands. We got the fish fllaaaakkkes in our hands....."
Anyway, we left before buying/adopting/taking any more pets to add to our ever-growing menagerie so I consider the trip a total success.

The Smiling Infidel Is Your Guide To Deviant Geology



It's of vital importance to learn something new each and every day. Today, the mini-Infidels learned of a magical body of water situated between Peru and Bolivia and bearing a majestically regal name......LAKE TITICACA! Reportedly the names Lake Boobycrap and Lake Tatapoo were already taken. Interesting to note that this could possibly be the place where Lola and Tony danced their last at the Titi.....Titicaca......stupid 70's censors changing Titicaca to Copacabana.



I recently became intimately acquainted with several variations of schist. I touched schist with my bare hands in the Geology lab and I was like "Oh SCHIST.....I got schist all over my hands!" I then told my lab partner that I thought he was the "SCHIST." Not surprisingly I had to study a lot of schist for my test. Schist, I can't wait for this semester to be over. This schist's too hard.....even though I am full of schist most of the time.

This be SHALE. Sentences uttered by me during the course of the class rock practical:

• "Oh SHALE no!"
• "What the SHALE?"
• "Yeah? Well you can just go to SHALE!"

Nobody is clamoring to be my Geology lab partner. I'm not really sure what the SHALE is going on with that. :(



This is a diagram of an AQUITARD. It's politically incorrect to say this but........ you know Clay? Yeah, it's true, Clay is a total aquitard! Remember shale? Shale is one of the biggest aquitards around! "You Might Be An Aquitard.........." That's going to be my signature routine when I hit the Geology standup comedy circuit. Will you be there to see me and cheer for me? No? Pssssshhhhhh, you're such a freakin' AQUITARD!

*****I'm the oldest student by far in this class filled with impressionable youngins. We have to use hydrochloric acid a lot in Geology. I told my teenage lab partner that now he can tell his friends that he was looking at cleavage, dropping acid, and rocking out at school. His horrified expression was priceless.*****