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Post by csl on Oct 12, 2016 17:13:47 GMT -5
CSL is how I sign my posts on my blog.
C=Curmudgeonly - I am 67, and have achieved coot status, with all the benefits pertaining thereunto. Since I believe everyone is entitled to my opinion, Curmudgeonly seems to be an apropos adjective.
L=Librarian - I am a retired librarian, and as we know librarians are basically professional know-it-alls. Just ask me; I fill you in.
The S? That was an add-on.
S=Sesquipedalian - which means someone given to big words. Or as I put it, someone who can squeeze 5¢ of thought into 25¢ of verbiage. After one of my posts, a reader said that she would have read my blog with a dictionary." I quipped, "Sesquipedalian is my middle name", and it stuck.
Curmudgeonly Sesquipedalian Librarian - csl
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Post by DryCreek on Oct 12, 2016 23:32:16 GMT -5
csl, "Never use a big word when a diminutive one will suffice."
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Post by Deleted on Oct 13, 2016 0:38:24 GMT -5
csl, "Never use a big word when a diminutive one will suffice." Use adverbs judiciously. |
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Post by baza on Oct 13, 2016 1:33:21 GMT -5
This is the type of speech up with which I will not put.
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Post by eternaloptimism on Oct 13, 2016 9:30:15 GMT -5
Oooh, fun! I actually wrote about this when I first joined here, as part of yelling my story. Here's from that post: "I used to live not far from a world-renowned zoo, and I would often go jogging through there when the weather was nice and I had time between classes. Part of one of my favorite routes took me past the tiger enclosure, and even though the zoo is famous for how well the animals are cared for, and no matter how natural the cages were made to look, it never failed to make me sad. It was obvious that the great cats- huge, strong, powerful, aggressive hunters- weren't happy with their situations. They'd pace around their enclosure, looking restless, unsettled, and unsure of what they were supposed to do. Their eyes, normally sharp and attentive, had begun to gloss over. Their powerful, muscular frames, now useless. I've spent the last several months feeling a lot the same way. I grew up in a huge, affectionate family, full of passionate, active, social, energetic people. Every single relationship I've been in before this one was full of passion, affection, playfulness, spontaneity, and activity. There hasn't been any of that in this relationship in a long, long time. Going back to my zoo story, there were two other regular zoo visitors who also liked to hang out around the tiger enclosure- a pair of peacocks that pretty much had their run of the park. I don't think anybody knew where they came from, but they certainly acted like they owned the place. And when they came around the tiger enclosure, the tigers would notice. The fire would reignite in their eyes. They'd snap to full alertness, and you could tell the gears were turning in their heads, remembering how to be hunters, yearning for half a chance to demonstrate the prowess and skill they'd once exercised constantly. I miss the thrill of the hunt. That moment you become aware of each other's presence in the same place at the same time. The furtive glances when you're hoping the other person is both watching and not watching. The excitement that comes with making that first approach. The anticipation as you see them physically reacting to you. The rush of trading verbal jabs in the beginning phases of flirtation. The electricity of the first touch. The way that feeling spreads down your skin as you move closer to each other. I miss the feel of a woman's waist nestled up in the crook of my arm as she leans in to me. I miss the sound of her breath catching in her throat the first time I brush my lips against hers. Watching her eyelids flutter as she surrenders herself to that kiss. The inevitable escalation as temptation, hormones and inhibitions all wrestle. The contact, the intensity, the passion, the building anticipation, the high, the afterglow. I miss waking up, satisfied and excited, my body pressed up against warmth and curves. Sharing a sleepy greeting kiss, each daring the other to reenact the previous night. The promise and anticipation of identical future kisses shared in that moment. Most of all, I miss feeling desired. It's been a very, very long time. " This passage never gets old Tiger 🐯 xx |
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Post by bballgirl on Oct 13, 2016 9:34:18 GMT -5
I love baseball. Always did since I was a child and I discovered the Mets in the 80's. Girl is that playful silly side of me that will always be young at heart, probably because I work with kids. They keep me young!
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Post by csl on Oct 13, 2016 14:34:23 GMT -5
csl , "Never use a big word when a diminutive one will suffice." None of that foofaraw for me, nossir. All too often, people get by with a 5000-10000 word functional vocabulary. Sorry, but English is a gift to the world, so use it proudly.  |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 13, 2016 14:51:11 GMT -5
CSL is how I sign my posts on my blog. C=Curmudgeonly - I am 67, and have achieved coot status, with all the benefits pertaining thereunto. Since I believe everyone is entitled to my opinion, Curmudgeonly seems to be an apropos adjective. L=Librarian - I am a retired librarian, and as we know librarians are basically professional know-it-alls. Just ask me; I fill you in. The S? That was an add-on. S=Sesquipedalian - which means someone given to big words. Or as I put it, someone who can squeeze 5¢ of thought into 25¢ of verbiage. After one of my posts, a reader said that she would have read my blog with a dictionary." I quipped, "Sesquipedalian is my middle name", and it stuck. Curmudgeonly Sesquipedalian Librarian - csl Cool, a fellow word nerd! "Kat" is short for my real name, and it is also one of the most overused internet names in existence. So I thought for a minute about what to add to Kat. I picked "Smart" because I figured it would intrigue the cool people, and be off-putting to jerks. Once a man even suggested to me that having "Smart" in my name might be threatening to some men. That told me that I'd made a good choice! I also found out that a SmartKat is some kind of a boat. A man who used to be on EP became interested in me and started doing online research looking for me - then later confessed that he'd been doing this. (And told me how many hits on the SmartKat boat he had to plow through before finding me on Google.) |
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Post by wewbwb on Oct 13, 2016 15:23:43 GMT -5
(And told me how many hits on the SmartKat boat he had to plow through before finding me on Google.) I'd plow through some things also.... WAIT! Did I say that out loud? Um- ignore me. Oh look at that a Baza post..... Bye..... |
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Post by JMX on Oct 13, 2016 15:53:55 GMT -5
Here is my epic tale behind my "baza" handle. - My name is Barry. In my jurisdiction, Barry is inevitably shortened to "Baz", or "Bazza" On EP, Baz was already taken, and the nearest I could get to it was "bazzar". So I used that. Here,"Baz" was insufficient alpha's so I added another "a". Hence "baza" - So, here and now I claim the title of "Most Unimaginative Name In The Group". Any challengers for this highly prestigious title ? I think I have you beat. I started to type in my initials, thought better of it, changed the last two and, on EP had to add numbers so I didn't want to be too boring so I changed up 45678 to 46578. I was so quick to join I never gave it much thought at all. Also, I was stoked that I got away without numbers here - also three letters only. Surely you can too? I've toyed with changing my name, but I have been here so long I didn't want anyone to not know who I was  |
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Post by DryCreek on Oct 13, 2016 17:45:39 GMT -5
All too often, people get by with a 5000-10000 word functional vocabulary. 10,000 words is poor, eh? Man, I have a lot more Spanish to learn then. I'm not sure I'm even past 100... |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 13, 2016 18:16:19 GMT -5
csl , "Never use a big word when a diminutive one will suffice." None of that foofaraw for me, nossir. All too often, people get by with a 5000-10000 word functional vocabulary. Sorry, but English is a gift to the world, so use it proudly. It's not the words you know but what you do with them. "Out of the cradle endlessly rocking, Out of the mocking-bird’s throat, the musical shuttle, Out of the Ninth-month midnight, Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child, leaving his bed, wander’d alone, bare-headed, barefoot, Down from the shower’d halo, Up from the mystic play of shadows, twining and twisting as if they were alive, Out from the patches of briers and blackberries, From the memories of the bird that chanted to me, From your memories, sad brother—from the fitful risings and fallings I heard, From under that yellow half-moon, late-risen, and swollen as if with tears, From those beginning notes of sickness and love, there in the transparent mist, From the thousand responses of my heart, never to cease, From the myriad thence-arous’d words, From the word stronger and more delicious than any, From such, as now they start, the scene revisiting, As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing, Borne hither—ere all eludes me, hurriedly, A man—yet by these tears a little boy again, Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves, I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter, Taking all hints to use them—but swiftly leaping beyond them, A reminiscence sing." Not a single big or exotic word. |
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Post by greatcoastal on Oct 13, 2016 18:31:52 GMT -5
Great Coastal was my handle when I drove an 18 wheeler. I tried using the handle " Lucky" since I have a very Irish name. People would ask," lucky what." Or I found myself having to say, "this is Lucky, that's my handle". Others would mispronounce it as looky , or Locky.
The company I drove for was Great Coastal Express, so I found myself telling others on the CB this is Great Coastal, years of saying that stuck with me.
Estes trucking also owned Great Coastal. It was sold to Heartland Express in the mid 90's. We had red tractors with white stripes, and a blue band down the center with stars. Stars and stripes!
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