You probably know this word already; it’s not that rare a word or anything. I mainly like this word because I always forget its definition. I always think it means “vomit.” It doesn’t.
I’ve been reading a book by this writer who likes putting silly songs in his stories, so I’ve been inspired to write my own little song about this word so I can remember that I always get its definition wrong. It goes like this:
Yawp. A yawp is merely a sharp yell or a shriek or a noisy, foolish utterance. So even though it doesn’t mean “vomit,” it is not recommended that you yawp in the workplace.
Everybody’s crying today about Peter Pan. I myself have a lot of reservations about crying for him, but I suppose I need to keep a respectful silence today. It’s only appropriate. And truth be told, I very much admire the work he did in the ’70s:
Today is comedian and television pioneer Ernie Kovacs’ birthday. Mr. Kovacs has a special place in my heart, for many reasons: his love of monkey costumes, his contributions to Mad Magazine, his luxuriant moustache… He would have been 90 years old today had he followed one of my simple rules for health and happiness: stay away from Westwood.
I am currently recommending Mr. Kovacs for Fancy Notions beatification so that he can become a patron saint of this website. Part of the beatification process involves research into the miracles performed by the candidate. Unfortunately, I was not able to find an online video clip of Mr. Kovacs’ miraculous all-gorilla production of Swan Lake, but I did find a decent performance of his simian troupe The Nairobi Trio. Enjoy:
I’m telling you, the television program Lost is like the worst, most charming ex-boyfriend you ever had. Every time it tells me it’s coming back on the air for a short visit, I always think, “I’m over you, Lost. I just don’t care about you and your drama anymore,” and then I go ahead and watch it and think, “Dang, he looks good,” and I’m hooked again. Damn you, Lost.
Anyway, a few friends have declined to join in on the group viewing of the show this season because of their belief that the show is a piece of Scientology propaganda. Apparently, this belief is rather widespread, and while there is plenty of evidence to support this theory (the negative portrayal of pharmaceuticals on the show, dormant volcanoes, JJ Abrams’ relationship with Tom Cruise, Dharma Initiative>>>Dharma & Greg>>>Jenna Elfman; okay, maybe that last one is a stretch but I’m on pharmaceuticals right now), I think we decided last night that the show is not Scientologist but Calvinist. All this talk about being able to go back and forth on a string but not being able to change the string is very predestination. And the idea of predestination really gets me into a ball. “Am I predestined to fall into this puddle? Or was that my doing? Why would anybody predetermine that I fall into a puddle?”
Screw it. Screw predestination. Obama said that there’s room for nonbelievers in America. I’m going to nonbelieve. I’m going to walk away from my desk, get in my car, and go buy the new Bran Flakes album. What kind of god would predetermine that?
Last night was the much anticipated finale of Cycle 11 of America’s Next Top Model – anticipated because we couldn’t wait for this trainwreck to end. Tyra can do things nobody else can, and now she has shown us that it is possible for a trainwreck to be boring. We watch The Knife Show and discuss Isis’ free sex change operation while we wait for the show to start. We are going to need a lot of champagne to get through this.
Yesterday, Martha Stewart had Snoop Dogg on her show to make cognac mashed potatoes. Now, I know a lot of you may hate Martha Stewart because you may think she’s a snob or an overachiever or a condescending bitch or something, but I beg you to rethink your opinion of her. Come on. She frequently has Amy Sedaris on the program discussing bong water, she drinks in the morning, and now she has the Snoopy Dog making mashed potatoes.
Yeah, yeah; I know she said stuff to him like, “Can you spell?” and “You dance all the time,” but look – she’s an ex-con. When you’re in the Big House, dissing people like that is a survival tool. She meant no harm. She may have blanched a little when Snoop made reference to her felony record in his vocabulary lesson: “Ball til ya fall!” (meaning, of course, to make as much money by any means necessary), but she didn’t hurt him or anything. And she could have; there was clearly at least one shank sitting right there on the table.
Of course, I’m a little torn as to who would make the better mashed potatoes if left to his/her own devices. True, Snoop seemed to be leaning toward Parkay rather than real butter, but he also had a desire to mash the potatoes by hand and to leave the peels on, which Martha put the kibosh on. So, I don’t know. Judge for yourself:
With all the pre-emptions of America’s Next Top Model the past couple of weeks, last night’s viewing party/drinking game of ANTM was a very small affair – just Ross and Benny and I to watch the models as they lurch ever closer to the finale of this lackluster cycle. Ross has brought over some special edition Barack Obama wine, with Obama’s signature replicated on the back. Obama’s signature kind of looks like the Zodiac Killer’s signature. Hey, wait a minute – did we just elect the Zodiac Killer president? Oh, there’s no time to worry about this right now; Tyra is asking us if we want to be on top. Oh boy, do we! (more…)
Today’s fashion post is dedicated to Tyra Banks. Here’s a little thing designed by Tobias Wong that can make your most intimate parts every bit as glamorous as your earlobes and fingers:
Silver pills. You swallow them and your poop sparkles. Yes! Of course, I’m sure Tyra believes that her poop already shines silver; otherwise why would she allow her show to be pre-empted two weeks in a row in Los Angeles by a local team vs. local team basketball game without worrying that she might be alienating ANTM viewers? Yes, Tyra, I’m aware that I could have caught the east coast feed of your program, but only if I have premium cable instead of my basic cable and I’M NOT GOING TO PAY FOR PREMIUM CABLE JUST TO WATCH THE TOP MODELS. I know you probably think I should be directing my anger toward KTLA rather than to you, Tyra and well, maybe you’re right.
Okay, don’t take the silver pills. I don’t want my TyTy turning blue or anything. You don’t need them anyway; your shit probably does sparkle. Just don’t let it happen next week.
As you may be aware, this cycle of America’s Next Top Model is terrible. Nevertheless, I am not only watching it but providing online synopses of the episodes for the education and/or amusement of the general public, and as a byproduct of this, I am providing you with free publicity for your terrible, terrible show. I am not expecting a fruit basket from you for my efforts, or even a case of Gallo wine (though I did receive a case of Gallo wine this week from someone else for merely doing my job).
However, I hope that the next time you see that ANTM is going to be pre-empted in one of the top nationwide television markets, pre-empted not by a half hour political commercial but by a three hour long basketball game between Los Angeles and Los Angeles that nobody could possibly care about, you choose another week to feature your contestants posing like Amsterdam storefront hookers and shaving one another’s vaginas in the communal bathtub? I can’t believe I missed this, and yes, I blame you.
Yawp. A yawp is merely a sharp yell or a shriek or a noisy, foolish utterance. So even though it doesn’t mean “vomit,” it is not recommended that you yawp in the workplace.
