Here are some further foolishnesses that I’ve written at various points this week, and in various states of mental competence. Read ’em and sigh.
The term ‘jetlag’ is inappropriate for eastbound travel. Let me explain.
When you get on a plane in London and get to New York eight hours later, local time has moved on, and your body clock still thinks that the time in London is correct. Thus, you’re lagging behind New York time; thus ‘jetlag’.
When you get on a flight from New York back to London and lose eight hours, you’re used to the earlier schedule, and London time (the lazy bastard) is lagging behind you. But doesn’t it seem odd that in one direction, you’re lagging, and in the other, the entire timezone is lagging?
Base foolishness, I feel. We have a term that, semantically, means “your body clock is behind local time”, so we need one that means “your body clock is ahead of local time”.
I propose the term jetrush.
Of course, the entire idea is nonsense because no matter what direction you travel in, people are going to understand what you mean when you say you’re jetlagged. As an English Language student, however, I feel that needless specificity is occasionally more important than clarity.
…hey, can I write my dissertation on this?
Just before Halloween, me and my housemates received a letter from our neighbours. The gang of tribal-tattooed Firetrap-wearing party boys who live next to us tend to celebrate each weekend by throwing enormous parties, inviting far more people than can actually fit inside a student house, such that the whole thing generally spills out into the front garden and outside steps that our properties share. In the morning, I have to walk down the steps, avoiding the broken glass, empty cans and half-naked girls that cluster there after one of next door’s ragers, in order to get to university. All this is by way of saying that these boys aren’t particularly au fait with politeness and consideration. Or so we thought until we got the letter, which went like this:
Dear Next Door,
We are writing this letter to inform you that we will be hosting a Halloween party on Saturday night at nine o’clock. You are all welcome to join us, but if you can’t make it, we will try to keep the noise to a minimum and will be sure to clean up any mess from the steps in the morning.
Needless to say, we didn’t go to the party, they didn’t keep the noise down and none of the mess was cleaned up, although I too would have been loath to pick up a dustpan and brush if I’d been drinking until five in the morning to the accompaniment of about three ear-melting dubstep songs on infinite repeat. I was so stupefied by this turn of events that I immediately wrote and posted a flippant reply in an attempt to scare them into never throwing another goddamned party again.
Dear Next Door,
Thank you for your note concerning last night’s Halloween party. Please be assured that noise was not an issue, as all the residents of our house who were in last night are either paranoid insomniacs, profoundly deaf, or chained in the basement and thusly divorced from street-level sound and society in general. Unfortunately, though we would have liked to come round for a drink, the four of us who were in last night were unavoidably tied up with, variously, ritual flagellation, hapkido lessons, anger-management support groups and twine. We hope it was a good one and that we won’t find any curious surprises around the premises in the next few days (empty crates that once contained heroin, conspicuous piles of human waste, hastily stowed corpses etc.) and that the party did not attract any illegal activity that might necessitate a visit from our criminally insane Polish landlords, who have a tendency to scalp people who break contracts.
See you the next time you decide to use the bathroom (we’ve drilled a peephole through the connecting wall – see if you can find it!),
They haven’t thrown another party since. I’m not taking complete credit, but still.
When you’re afraid, your glands produces adrenaline.
When you produce adrenaline, your mouth produces saliva.
This saliva can build up to an uncomfortable level and must be expelled or ingested.
Is this why, when confrontations happen, people who want to appear tough spit on the ground (because swallowing the excess saliva would look like a gulp, and thus a sign of fear)?
I thought they were all just being impolite