New Hipster's Urban Dictionary

Latest work...  calling it 'The Essential New Hipster's Urban Dictionary."

Enjoy!

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Antidope – Reversing the negative effects of a socially lacking person.  Such as an inebriated friend. 

Barackuda – A predatory species whose favorite meals are conservative in nature.

Conifer – A large manly tree.

Coniferous – Explaining your vegetarianism while retaining a chance of getting laid. 

Conviction – Set of fervent beliefs which may result in status as a convict.  Who has an eviction.

Express – That awkward interrogation in the frozen food section by a former girlfriend who demands details on your recent dating history. 

iPhun – Shenanigans made possible when your buddy leaves his iPhone unattended.

iPissed – When iPhun goes too far. 

Joggernot – A man emphasizing his strength conditioning over aerobic performance.  As muted silence follows, the mention of a coniferous lifestyle is ill-advised.

Mailstrom – Pulp cloud resulting from high winds and those bleeping Pennysaver! coupon books.

Malady – To express dissatisfaction with a female who has expressed you.  Often accompanied with a shake of head and dry clucking noise.

Mousetache – Entreating your rodent, Mr. Jeffers, to lie prone on your upper lip. 

(See also: conviction)

Plantinum – Doesn’t matter how cool it looks at the store, fake plants are death for libido. 

Sinthetic – Evil deeds done dirt cheap. 

Torture – Painful, exhausting process at the hands of a legal motion.  

VINdictive - Typical: damage resulting from thief who, upon breaking into your car and discovering a miserable loot of lint-covered pennies and mixed tapes, wrathfully damages the vehicle's interior.  

Whimsicull – A light-hearted action whose intended results are catastrophic, such as sprinkling coke into the apartment’s central air and offing the old lady in 9B. 

(See also: conviction)

Flight 227

“Can you believe it? No hot water—and that was twice on that layover. And that breakfast bar…I’m telling you, Gladys—what’s that? You can hear me over the PA?—Oh! Ladies and Gentlemen, good morning—can you hear…Yes?—Ok, good morning. I’m Linda, your chief purser for Flight 227. On behalf of your Washington-based flight crew I welcome you aboard this Soviet-era Ilyushin jet. We hope to provide you with an on-time takeoff, so please do find your space as soon as possible. Today’s flight is expected to be as smooth as metal hurtling through air can be, and we are happy to offer a number of fee-based amenities during our international service today. Benches and seatbelts are available for purchase—which may also be used on subsequent flights—provided your Ilyushin is of Ukrainian origin out of the Dnipr-Petrovsk assembly station. Full details are available in the ship’s schematic. Translation is available for a small fee.

Federal Aviation regulations do not allow smoking during flight, and tampering with smoke detectors is prohibited. Please note that the Supreme Court has roundly rejected spontaneous combustion as a smoking defense, even when directly caused by airline inadequacies.

Our flight time to Budapest is approximately 17 hours.

Oh—I’ve just been handed a note—we wish to offer a very special welcome to the dozen or so teething toddler models flying with us this morning. Welcome aboard.

Several security protocols remain in effect—please refrain from leaving your baggage unattended, traveling with prohibited items or attempting logic when accused by transportation security agents. A prompt confession is encouraged.

Because of the inordinately large number of babies flying with us today—hey, that’s you!!—special measures will be observed. The lavatory in the aft of the hold will be reserved for pregnant mothers, mothers traveling with a child, and our corporate elite members. The forward slop pail is available for cash purchase, and as always—correct change is appreciated.

Due to the engineering limitations of this airframe, you may be pressed into service in the event an emergency egress becomes necessary. If the forward door—that’s the one you came through sir, yes, that one. The handle to your left…other left. There you go—is not available please do the following if you are seated in an exit row. Actually, any row. Using the crash axes that will be distributed just prior to impact, cut through the thin aluminum of the hull. Then close your eyes, and finally, leap.

In the event of mass hysterics from our infants, you may be conscripted to provide entertainment. Time will be of the essence, as the shifting harmonics of wailing youth can affect beverage service, the psychological well-being of your captain and the structural integrity of the aircraft.

Today’s emergency entertainment option is PANDEMONIUM!, a bold and adaptive work in the style of OKLAHOMA! Parts may be assigned randomly—but also available for purchase. Please note: if reduced oxygen levels are experienced within the hold, Act III, Scene II: “Life Among the Clouds” will be omitted due to its strenuous vocals. Instead, Act I, Scene III: “Man-made Metallic Meteor” will be presented again, with the option of also being presented via encore to rescue personnel. Furthermore, Act III, Scene IV will be changed as follows: the part of Louisa will be played by a male; parachutes will not be distributed; and the finale will be a cappella and fortissimo, not forte as it reads currently.

Part of today’s routing will take us over water. In the unlikely event of a water landing, we will launch into Act III, Scene II: “Life Among the Clouds” regardless of oxygen levels within the hold and continue until the termination of flight.

Thank you for your kind attention, and don’t hesitate to shout for attention once power and heat have been removed from the hold at altitude. Good day.”

Modesty

Growing up in rural northern Minnesota (guess that's probably a redundant phrase) we did a lot of camping.  At gunpoint.

Modesty

Copyrighted

I am a modest person. With that being said, I can state factually (not bragging, mind you) that my survival skills and outdoor knowledge run the full gamut of al fresco events—from alpine to zoology. As I always say upfront and without any fanfare: I’ll get us there and back, as long as a situation doesn’t develop from which it would be impossible to foresee and extricate oneself.

Such as a rain shower.

Oh, and just one more fact I might share is that I will even go out of my way to ensure others get credit for an accomplishment, even if my experience or ingenuity were the principal force in achieving it!! Don’t thank me—it’s just how I am.

This modest confidence can surprise some people—such as my immediate family, who often unveil their surprise through wild shrieks of laughter, thus proving modesty is not hereditary. 

 

It also proves that you should depend only upon yourself, as my family has also left me high and dry on several occasions with only my innate skill to save me. (Besides, it is well documented in the annals of science that short-hair tabby cats are wily fiends. Being treed by one is sometimes unavoidable and prudent, no matter what the peanut gallery of cackling family members suggests.) [EDITORIAL NOTE: Short-hair tabbies are especially treacherous after they have had their fury ignited by a declawing. I am far too modest to describe the scars…]

Now, where was I? Oh yes, let me share a (modest) story of when I took my wife on her first camping experience. Deep in the interior of a national forest, I good-naturedly showed her all of the techniques I have collected in my many years of braving the outdoors.

For instance, when it was discovered that we had no can opener I showed her many other techniques to open a can—this was both educational and necessary, since “I” had also forgotten a container holding the bulk of our food. [EDITORIAL NOTE: Upon first camping adventure, be prepared to accept any and all blame for the following: forgotten items, outside ambient temperatures and sleeping accommodations. Failure to do so may induce emotional and spiritual changes in your party such as: anxiety, panic attacks, or homicidal tendencies] Despite the challenges presented by leaving several containers, a road atlas and my wallet at home, my modest planning ensured that we had a reserve of nutritious food. Besides, SPAM is very nutritious, and we had just enough for our stay, as long as we didn’t have more than 5 cans a day. Each.

Well, after discovering she’d be eating nothing but processed spiced meats for 4 days my wife was not quite herself, but post-exorcism she consented to listen. This was good, because despite my evasive sprints through the forest she was gaining on me.

Humboldt State Park, California

We settled down and began our task of opening the can. I went through the whole list of entry methods: utilizing at one point or another my trusty jackknife (last trip for the poor fella, didn’t think the blade would snap that easily), a large pine branch, a football-sized rock, and a road flare. Mind you, each of these can be used as a stand alone, or in combination with the others. My favorite combination is a flare lashed to the pine branch, which can also double as a torch. This may not prove any more useful at opening cans, but could be the difference between success and failure when conducting an exorcism and sprinting through the forest. 
 

Luckily, the can maintained its integrity through our freshman-level laboratory, and I was able to get into a more advanced discussion. This included using a tent stake and mallet in tandem, although the back of an axe head is easily substituted. While the can remained closed, I was able to open a large gash in my thumb, which provided an excellent segue into self-aid buddy care. After binding the wound with the sterile remains of a used napkin, I continued.

Following several hours of theory and practice, we did succeed in opening the can, but only after I had dismissed the class. I also dismissed the can by hurling it at a large spruce. As I am a modest person, I of course allowed my wife to take credit for eventually getting the can open. I wish to add that my wife has far to go on the road to modesty, as her shouts of glee at the end were in very poor taste, although she’ll fit right in with my family.

Besides, who has ever gotten excited by opening a can with the pop tab anyway??

On this same camping trip there were many more moments of me coaching my wife to eventual success, with little to no gratitude displayed for my troubles!! However, my modesty prevents me from sharing more than one. Luckily it’s the most dramatic.

We had set up the site until only the tent remained. My wife had proven herself quite capable, but…still—the tent can be quite a challenge. So, I showed her how to select a flat patch of ground that would still provide enough elevation to prevent water from pooling. Then we laid down a surface tarp, unrolled the tent onto it, and spread it out. The tent is of a quaint design that has a series of woven guides along its exterior. Into these are placed long flexible poles, which are then attached to the bottom, providing the framework of the tent. I explained the idea, and we got to work. Shortly after the first pole was seated, it was evident that one of two possibilities had occurred. Either the fabric had shrunk, or those rascally poles had increased in length. (Now, I reserve judgment on who’s to blame, but let’s just say that I took precise measurements of those poles after this little outing…)

Never one to give up lightly, I attempted stretching out the tent, all the while giving my wife instruction on how to maneuver the pole. After several failed attempts, and more than one puncture wound to my sternum, we were approaching the end of my vast plain of knowledge. Then a light breeze came up, inflating the tent and stretching it out. Seizing the moment, I took the reins and maneuvered the tent so as to catch more of the wind. Fortunately, the wind helped pull the tent up out of the stakes that we had painstakingly applied—I modestly admit that without the wind I could not have freed the tent alone. In fact, only after my feet had risen 18 inches above ground did I recognize how much lift the tent was producing. Modestly curbing my fear, I commented to my wife that by us holding on to one end, and the wind pulling on the other, we might be able to stretch the fabric enough to insert the poles!!!

Her silence was deafening.

Undaunted, I quickly tied one end of the tent to a sturdy sapling and began feeding out line. The tent was completely inflated by now and actively strained against the rope, and slowly stretched. I exclaimed loudly “It’s really working!”

When the sapling snapped I modestly began to panic. Quickly I looped the rope around our barbecue, lawn chairs and me. I prayed that the combined weight of 207 pounds would be enough to stop the tent.

It was not.

The tent launched skyward with its payload of miscellaneous steerage, clearly bent on an impromptu lunar mission. I resigned myself to a quick ride into the stratosphere and quicker reentry. I also forced my body limp. This was both for impending collisions with foliage and as a last-ditch effort to trick the winds into thinking I was just a carcass, and moving on in search of live prey. This had once worked on a notoriously fearsome tabby and I thought it worth a shot.

It was at that moment the rope snapped. Tumbling to the earth, I looked up in surprise to see the tent sailing off, and my wife holding a knife with which she had cut the line…

Even now, years later, we rarely bring up this story.

Modestly speaking, it’s probably for the best…