Monday, August 30, 2010


despite the terror and sadness at the news that something as fucking important and sexual as the oxford english dictionary may wholly surrender its material existence, depriving future generations of introverted 8 year olds the pleasure of penciling smug x's next to words they'll never learn to gracefully use, i am no less tickled rotten and pink (gross!) that - with almost 27 full human years under my stylish and casually tossed on belt - i've managed to befriend the types of girls that would care deeply about news such as this, and conflate it with the paean to rock and roll that will forever and always remind me of 6th grade nerd camp, where i first learned that if you cannot in the first five minutes spot the awkward kid, chances are high that the awkward kid at nerd camp may very well be YOU. this is not entirely your fault; you did break your nose two days before leaving and your parents did encourage you to look up words on your own and use them all in a sentence you kept going for the rest of your life. no one wants to make lanyards with the girl whose nose bleeds sporadically and has a troubling fixation with run-on sentences. don't worry. you later went on to graduate school at the university of chicago, where you were able to spot no fewer than 35 dysfunctionally awkward kids in the first 3 minutes of orientation and go on to meet some of the most unreasonably awesome and whipshittinsmart women you never thought you'd cry in front of, and then you did one night under a table in the library and you know what? they never judged.

the print dictionary may be dead or dying, but bfff's are here to stay.

1 comment:

Carrie said...

the saddest part of the quick takes report of the death of the oed is how the editor says that if we wanted to, we could get it back. but he bets we don't want to enough, and he's right. TRAGEDY!