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Brother Can You Spare A Bosk?
"Now I want you to promise that you won't be embarrassing me tonight, Red, O.K.?" I turned to my beautiful date, and smiled my biggest promissary toothy good behavior grin. "I will behave with honor and propriety, as always, Sunny;as to embarassment, why worry? Am I not Tuchuk?" She tossed her thick blonde tresses to the side, smiling thinly as she locked the door on the car. She was sporting a thick jeweled band to hold some of it in place, and the sparkle set off the highlights in the matching purse and gownless evening strap she was wearing. The cool evening showed her curves to my eyes best advantage, and I knew that I had chosen well in my quest for a new wagonmate. "And I wish that you'd quit saying that, Red--first of all, he's dead,shot to death, and second, you can't sing or hip-hop worth a damn!--furthermore...." "Ssshh- no, no, Sunshine, you've got it wrong again," I said, smiling down at her,"It's Tu-CHUK, Tu-Chuk, see? It's a Gorean nation of loosely confederated families, living in perfect harmony with nature and engaging in healthy raping, pillaging and battle with any who are not Tuchuk, understand?" "Whatever, " she said, huffily, looking at the damned oversized watch she wore which seemed to guide every facet of her existence. "Let's get going, I had to park three blocks away from the club because it's so crowded on Saturdays." Linking her arm in mine, I started to guide her down the main road of this town she called Encino, listening for the night sounds of birds and beasts, which to a large part have been replaced with blaring music and the smell of sizzling urt sandwiches from places she called "fast-food establishments". "Look, Red, isn't the night beautiful? I think I can see the North Star." I glanced in the direction she pointed, and hadn't the heart to tell her that what she was looking at was the spotlight on a patrol helicopter. "Aye, Sunny, the night is certainly beautiful. Why, look over there, at that tower of multi-colored lights and smoke advertising a free carwash on Sunday, it almost rivals the crematories of Ar as a spectacle! And the fresh night air of Encino makes me regret that I've perfected the art of breathing shallowly though one nostril." She giggled, pressing herself to my side. "You are just sooo silly sometimes--Oh, look, we're almost there." I followed her gaze again, this time to a long line of couples about a half block long, waiting outside of a roped off entrance. The unimpressive brick facade of the building was eclipsed by another huge sign, blaring neon blue into the night. LA BRASSIERE GILDE "Well, here we are, eh? Are you sure they have food in this place?" "Oh, yes, Red, they've received a four star rating, you won't believe what's inside." "Very well, then--we have reservations, right? What do we do now?" My Sunshine took out her compact, and applied a bit of lipgloss, checking its effect. I smiled, as cherry lips always were in favor with me. "We wait in line, right where we are, until the M'aitre'D seats us." "Wait until he seats us?... but I thought we have reservations?" My Sunshine clucked and rolled her eyes at me, in the way that one uses to explain things to child or a kaiilla not responding to the reins. "THIS is the line for those who already have reservations," she said, and pointed at a line at least three times as long converging in the opposite direction. "THAT is the line for those who didn't make them and are hoping to get in tonight!" It was only a little over an hour later that we were finally permitted to enter, and ducking under the shallow doorway, I watched in amazement as my Sunshine took a twenty from me and gave it to the smiling little ost who had done nothing except keep us waiting outside. Mr. Ost then called one of his similarly attired minions to lead us away, nodding to me as if he'd just granted me the keys to the Ubars' Pleasure Slave kennels. As we were led to a table the size of a practice shield, I squeezed myself into the narrow chair, and looked for signs of happy faces chewing away on steaks. For the most part, I found that the males were sitting about with clenched fists, or trying to drink what looked to be watered down kal-la-na from finger sized glasses, while the females were all cooing about the "ambiance", and the fat white pigeons which were swinging about above our heads in golden cages. "Isn't this adorable, Red?, " my Sunshine asked, eyes alight."I hope you can appreciate how fortunate we are--this is one of the best seats in the house." "I would appreciate a thick steak and a glass of something alchoholic even more," I said. "I saw you slip that dead president to the Head Ost back there, when do we eat?" "Ohhh, you silly boy," Sunshine said, again giving me her look, "that was only to get us a good table. You'll have our waiter to get the food and drink." "And let me guess," I said, the heat gradually going up in the room,"I get the pleasure of handing out another twenty to see that we get exactly what we order in a prompt fashion, eh?" Sunny leaned over and gave me a long kiss, batting her eyelashes. "Now you're catching on, Red--look, here he comes now!" Our waiter announced his presence by banging into our table, and nearly starting a fire by tipping over the candles. Nose pointed ceilingward, he threw two heavy menus on the table, brushing off his gold lettered nameplate. "Good Evening, Mesdames and Monsieur. I am Henri, and will be your waiter tonight. Eeef you should have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask." "Thank you, Henry," I said, ignoring the faulty spelling on his nameplate. He was cadaverously thin, and looked like he might cry if I mentioned it. I could have sworn that I'd seen him the week before in the VideoStore, wearing a trainee shirt with a "CAN I HELP YOU?" card pinned to his lapel. "I'll order for the both of us now, if you don't mind. We'll take two chateaubriands, charred on the outside, rare inside, with a side of crouette carrots, some fresh bread, and a bottle of your best Cabernet Sauvignon. Comprendez Vous?" To make sure he vous'ed, I slipped him a twenty. Nose still ceilingward, Henry's hand snaked out like a hungry larl, smoothly making the twenty disappear. As he nodded, picking up the menus, his rheumy eyes settled on Sunshines cleavage. "And would you like the butter cream or the Bernaise on your order?" "Neither, Henry. No sauces with the order, thank you." Henry grimaced like he'd just swallowed a plate of tospits. "I'm sorry, Monsiuer, but we must have a sauce included with the entree', it is our policy." I smiled up at him, all warmth and kindness, despite his execrable French. "Henry, for what I'll be paying, not only will you make an exception and keep the sauce, but you're lucky I'm not asking you to bring me the tail and ears, and sing EL TOREADORE." "That certainly went over well," my Sunshine said, sighing at me. "Now look what you've done--he's left and I think you upset him!" It had been forty five minutes, and a sour bottle of cabernet later, and still no sign of our Henry with our steaks. We'd gotten our wine earlier through a bit of Tuchuk ingenuity and another twenty dollar bill. Even Sunshine had unraveled a little at the edges, drinking five glasses to my two, trying to kill the hunger pains. "Do you think he'll ever come back, Red?," she asked, forgetting to be angry at me for the moment, and looking hungrily at the bread on the table across from us. "Of course he will, Sunshine," I said with a smile. "It takes time for le chef to prepare true gourmet fare-- in the meantime, enjoy the ambiance." "Ambiance, hell--I'm going to the Girls' Room, and when I come back, I expect you to fix this situation, understand?" "Of course, Sweetness, " I said, smiling through gritted teeth. "I'll handle it." I'll say this for the males of Earth: although they will never be Tuchuks, with the proper motivation, they can perform acceptably. In this case, that meant my taking the lead, and gathering up about four or five of them who'd had the pleasure of dining on rotten wine and pigeon feathers for the last two hours. It was only a matter of minutes to overturn several of the cheap tables and smash them into kindling while they held Mr.Ost and his minions at bay with bared teeth and pocket knives. From there, I found a piece of a cheesy facade and managed to bend it into an acceptable grill. With the help of the tallest of my newfound friends, we grabbed a brace of pigeons from these damned cages and put them to the purpose for which pigeons were intended. There was a hearty glow of a campfire in the middle of the room by the time my Sunshine came back, and I offered her the better half of a freshly roasted vulo with some champagne. She refused, and is presently sitting huddled in a corner, eyes wide and shredding one of the fine linen napkins between her fingers, making pretty little bubbles from the side of her mouth. Mr. Ost, meanwhile, managed to escape, and is doubtless out summoning the Guard to take this scowling madman from his eating place. There is still a problem, though: Henri has never returned with my steaks, and vulo is not very filling. Brother, can you spare a bosk?
A modern-day, politically-correct holiday greeting: Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, our best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral, celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all; and a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2002, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures, and without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith, choice of computer platform, or sexual preference of the wishees. By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her/himself or others, and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year, or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher. Oh, what the heck: Happy Holidays and Best Wishes for the New Year!
1945 - NCO's had a typewriter on their desks for doing daily reports. 1945 - We painted pictures of girls on airplanes to remind us of home. 1945 - If you got drunk off duty your buddies would take you back to the barracks to sleep it off. 1945 - You were taught to aim at your enemy and shoot him. 1945 - Canteens were made of steel, and you could heat coffee or hot
chocolate in them. 1945 - Officers were professional soldiers first and they commanded
respect. 1945 - They collected enemy intelligence and analyzed it. 1945 - If you didn't act right, the Sergeant Major put you in the brig until you straighten up. 1945 - Medals were awarded to heroes who saved lives at the risk of their own. 1945 - You slept in barracks like a soldier. 1945 - You ate in a mess hall, which was free, and you could have all the food you wanted. 1945 - We defeated powerful countries like Germany and Japan. 1945 - If you wanted to relax, you went to the rec center, played pool, >smoked and drank beer. 1945 - If you wanted beer and conversation you went to the NCO or
>Officer's Club. 1945 - The Exchange had bargains for soldiers who didn't make much money. 1945 - Mouth off to your sergeant and get pounded. 1945 - We could recognize the enemy by their Nazi helmets. 1945 - We called the enemy names like "Krauts" and "Japs" because we
didn't like them. 1945 - Victory was declared when the enemy was defeated and all his
things >were broken. 1945 - A commander would put his butt on the line to protect his people. 1945 - Wars were planned and run by generals with lots of important
victories. 1945 - We were fighting for freedom, and the country was committed towinning. 1945 - All you could think about was getting out and becoming a civilian again.
Office Buzz Words and Phrases for the 21st Century BLAMESTORMING Sitting around in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or a project failed, and who was responsible. SEAGULL MANAGER A manager who flies in, makes a lot of noise, craps on everything, and then leaves. CHAINSAW CONSULTANT An outside expert brought in to reduce the employee headcount, leaving the top brass with clean hands. CUBE FARM An office filled with cubicles. MOUSE POTATO The on-line, wired generation's answer to the couch potato. PRAIRIE DOGGING When someone yells or drops something loudly in a cube farm, and people's heads pop up over the walls to see what's going on. SITCOMs (Single Income, Two Children, Oppressive Mortgage) What yuppies turn into when they have children and one of them stops working to stay home with the kids. STARTER MARRIAGE A short-lived first marriage that ends in divorce with no kids, no property and no regrets. STRESS PUPPY A person who seems to thrive on being stressed out and whiny. SWIPED OUT An ATM or credit card that has been rendered useless because the magnetic strip is worn away from extensive use. TOURISTS People who take training classes just to get a vacation from their jobs. "We had three serious students in the class; the rest were just tourists." TREEWARE Hacker slang for documentation or other printed material. XEROX SUBSIDY Euphemism for swiping free photocopies from one's workplace. CHIPS & SALSA Chips = hardware, Salsa = software. "Well, first we gotta figure out if the problem's in your chips or your salsa." PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE The fine art of whacking the heck out of an electronic device to get it to work again. (Try not to dent the case.) SALMON DAY The experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream only to get scr*wed and die in the end. CLM (Career Limiting Move) Used among microserfs to describe ill-advised activity. Trashing your boss while he or she is within earshot is a serious CLM. ADMINISPHERE The rarefied organizational layers beginning just above the rank and file. Decisions that fall from the adminisphere are often profoundly inappropriate or irrelevant to the problems they were designed to solve. DILBERTED To be exploited and oppressed by your boss. Derived from the experiences of Dilbert, the geek-in-hell comic strip character. "I've been Dilberted again. The old man revised the specs for the fourth time this week." 404 Someone who's clueless. From the World Wide Web error message "404 Not Found," meaning that the requested document could not be located. "Don't bother asking him ... he's 404, man."
1. AQUADEXTROUS (ak wa deks'trus) adj. Possessing the ability to turn the bathtub tap on and off with your toes. 2. CARPERPETUATION (kar'pur pet u a shun) n. The act, when vacuuming, of running over a string or a piece of lint at least a dozen times, reaching over and picking it up, examining it, then putting it back down to give the vacuum one more chance. 3. DISCONFECT (dis kon fekt') v. To sterilize the piece of confection (lolly) you dropped on the floor by blowing on it, assuming this will somehow 'remove' all the germs. 4. ELBONICS (el bon'iks) n. The actions of two people maneuvering for one armrest in a movie theater. 5. FRUST (frust) n. The small line of debris that refuses to be swept onto the dust pan and keeps backing a person across the room until he finally decides to give up and sweep it under the rug. 6. LACTOMANGULATION (lak' to man gyu lay' shun) n. Manhandling the "open here" spout on a milk container so badly that one has to resort to the 'illegal' side. 7. PEPPIER (peph ee ay') n. The waiter at a fancy restaurant whose sole purpose seems to be walking around asking diners if they want fresh ground pepper. 8. PHONESIA (fo nee' zhuh) n. The affliction of dialing a phone number and forgetting whom you were calling just as they answer. 9. PUPKUS (pup'kus) n. The moist residue left on a window after a dog presses its nose to it. 10. TELECRASTINATION (tel e kras tin ay' shun) n. The act of always letting the phone ring at least twice before you pick it up, even when you're only six inches away. |
