Just over two weeks to my vacation, and how am I spending my Saturday night? Starting an intense cleaning of my apartment. The last thing I want to do when I get back from spending four days in West Virginia is return to a messy place. Besides, returning to school, as I’ll be doing the Tuesday after my return, is sort of like a fresh-start on my life, and a freshly, full cleaned apartment will sort of be like a fresh-start on living here.

I guess. Sort of. (Plus, apparently my cleaning wasn’t up to Supa’s standards, and I’m feeling show-offy. )

My dining and living rooms are a mess. Books stacked on the carpet. Furniture piled in corners. Posters off the wall. I’m typing this from my laptop, during a short break, sitting on my sofa, which is about two inches away from the tv. My favorite Western, Silverado, is playing (”Now, I don’t want to kill you and you don’t want to be dead.”) Brian Dennehy is explaining why he and Kevin Kline fell out over a dog.

Anyway, since I’m such a looser, I’ll be posting pictures of my progress, which includes a run to Ikea on Tuesday. (Lamps, I need more lamps!)

I’m also, Monday, buying a Playstation 2 off my coworker Zap, who is moving in with his girlfriend at the end of the month. He’s giving me Baldur’s Gate, but my interest with console game usually extends to and ends at first person shooters. I glanced through Target’s game section earlier, and Electronic Boutique has a slew of used games — Brothers in Arms and Medal of Honor look fun, and there’s also a Battlestar Galactica game I’ve got some interest in.

Anyway. Need to move a bookshelf.

A “pizza screen” is a thin round metal disc, perforated with holes, which is used as a platform for a slapped-out pizza skin, to maintain its shape and size while the pizza cooks in the oven. So, today at work I was trying to get further into the Churchill biography I cannot stop either reading, nor blogging about.

Anyway, there were several flys buzzing about the back as I was sitting in my chair, leaning back, feet propped up atop folded boxes, intently reading on how closely the German military came to executing a military coup against Hitler over his plans for the Sudetenland.

Suddenly, a fly bounced off my forehead and landed back-up on the book. Steve was standing by the sinks, swinging a 16″ screen almost like a baseball bat, killing flies and hurtling them my way.

I didn’t much care for being bombarded with flying dead fly carcasses, but it was cool to learn that a 16″ pizza screen makes for a pretty mean fly swatter.

I misspell words all the time. I try not to bag on people when they commit acts of war on the dictionary — but sometimes I do, sorry! — but there is one word, commonly misspelled, that just really gets under my skin, and rips my flesh apart as if with a barbed object.

Looser is not the same word as loser.

los·er Pronunciation Key (lzr)
n.

1.
1. One that fails to win: the losers of the game.
2. One who takes loss in a specified way: a graceful loser; a poor loser.
2.
1. One that fails consistently, especially a person with bad luck or poor skills: “losers at home seeking wealth and glory in undeveloped countries” (Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr.).
2. One that is bad in quality: That book is a real loser.

loose Pronunciation Key (ls)
adj. loos·er, loos·est

1. Not fastened, restrained, or contained: loose bricks.
2. Not taut, fixed, or rigid: a loose anchor line; a loose chair leg.
3. Free from confinement or imprisonment; unfettered: criminals loose in the neighborhood; dogs that are loose on the streets.
4. Not tight-fitting or tightly fitted: loose shoes.
5. Not bound, bundled, stapled, or gathered together: loose papers.
6. Not compact or dense in arrangement or structure: loose gravel.
7. Lacking a sense of restraint or responsibility; idle: loose talk.
8. Not formal; relaxed: a loose atmosphere at the club.
9. Lacking conventional moral restraint in sexual behavior.
10. Not literal or exact: a loose translation.
11. Characterized by a free movement of fluids in the body: a loose cough; loose bowels.

adv.

In a loose manner.

Now, whenever anyone posts a comment to me on a blog or on a bulletin board or in an e-mail, demanding to know why I’m such a looser, my response usually has something to do with having a case of the “monster turds” as an explanation. This usually causes great consternation for the other party, who cannot fathom the reason for my apparently abrupt change of topic to discuss bowel movements, and usually results in them shutting the fuck up, which is generally the desired result when someone tries to call you a ‘loser’ (unless in a joking/sarcastic/fun-making way).