Boy, do I ever know a f-load of words. Including "synonym" and "antonym."
The test left out "homonym."
Today over at American Digest one of the authors put up the results of an online test that he took. He scored very high. Top 5.83%. His result page looks like an orange dromedary camel. The hump appealed to him so he posted the graph. It says, "Your vocabulary is size is 22500" I'm guessing that means words. And it sounds like a lot. Then he suggested his readers take the test too. So I did.
My vocabulary size is 29975 according to the test. It says, top .12% It says I'm Shakespeare.
Nanner nanner nanner, suck my ... finger.
You outta see my purple dromedary hump.
I wonder where I went wrong. I must have got something wrong.
They go back and forth between antonyms and synonyms in clusters, so you have to stay flexible. You have to interpret it to "choose a word that's like ____ " and "choose a word that's opposite ____" to keep straight which direction to go.
But I wish there'd be a test that tells you to define a word because sometimes the choices are poor.
One of the entries I got was "fugacious"
That means a plant is floppy.
And the closest related thing was "querulous" and that means a complainy bastard.
The other choices were even less related. So it's like an election where you pick the least of the worst and then you get into a type of scoring system and that takes awhile to work out.
Maybe I got them all right but took too long. I'm ponderous, after all, when it comes to poor choices.
Anyway, the guy was bragging at American Digest for basically getting an A and I kicked his ass easily. Smeared his face in vocabulary mud. Then expectorated mucilaginous sputum on his occiput. And did that with ease. And that's why they hated me in college because we were graded on the curve and I bent that curve back to 100% means 100%.
Because I'm a prick. I meant to say just now, because I studied like a mo-fo.
Here's how I studied. With ease and with joy and fun.
I tore apart my books and folded a section, longitudinally, more than I needed, and stuffed it into my inside pocket of my ski parka. I nice big section, like a magazine.
Then read the section on the chair lifts. The scenery is breathtaking, yes, but those lifts take a dreadfully long time and they stop quite a lot. And we're up there all day, and person sitting next to me generally doesn't want to talk. I read my section. Then read it again. And with nothing else to read, I read it again. I read the f out of those sections. I read them, literally, to death. They get snowed on, they get water damaged, they get food smeared on them. They're never read again. Only by me. I am the book's only reader.
The books were all ruined. Torn up and folded. I read in line at the grocery store. I read in line at the bank. I read in line at the cafeteria. I read at the laundromat, I read at red lights. I read waiting for the doctor, waiting for the interview, riding on the bus, waiting for the waitress, wherever my movement was halted. I read the shit out of those books. They were very expensive for me. And when my section is read multiple times and internalized then I whip out a NYT crossword puzzle and solve it. That was my life. When it came time to test, it was fun. That was my chance to show what I learned. That's how I kept accidentally bending the curve and pissing off other students. And the thing is, I never related to academia. I didn't belong there. I felt out of place the whole time. None of it was my natural thing. It's not me. Not at all. Like this vocabulary test. Those words are for people like the writer at American Digest. They are not for me. The test is not mine. It's just that I like to know what people are saying and I'm curious how other cultures say things. That's all. It's all rather stupid, actually. But, boy, do I know a f-load of words.
My father, who did not believe in dogs, when Susie was suggesting by her posture that he could share some of his food at the table, said to her, "Ixnay."
He picked pig latin because he was afraid she'd understand him, which would produce a problem.
8 comments:
Germania was going to be Hitler's new Berlin, a Commie bastion back when.
Dolf and Heine were happy to let the Moslems die in their cause, but it looks like they didn't want any around.
Uncle Joe, a Georgian, openly hated Moslems. He set it up so that, when a mullah circumcised a kid, he was tried and executed for homosexual rape.
May I brag a minit?
Boy, do I ever know a f-load of words. Including "synonym" and "antonym."
The test left out "homonym."
Today over at American Digest one of the authors put up the results of an online test that he took. He scored very high. Top 5.83%. His result page looks like an orange dromedary camel. The hump appealed to him so he posted the graph. It says, "Your vocabulary is size is 22500" I'm guessing that means words. And it sounds like a lot. Then he suggested his readers take the test too. So I did.
My vocabulary size is 29975 according to the test. It says, top .12% It says I'm Shakespeare.
Nanner nanner nanner, suck my ... finger.
You outta see my purple dromedary hump.
I wonder where I went wrong. I must have got something wrong.
They go back and forth between antonyms and synonyms in clusters, so you have to stay flexible. You have to interpret it to "choose a word that's like ____ " and "choose a word that's opposite ____" to keep straight which direction to go.
But I wish there'd be a test that tells you to define a word because sometimes the choices are poor.
One of the entries I got was "fugacious"
That means a plant is floppy.
And the closest related thing was "querulous" and that means a complainy bastard.
The other choices were even less related. So it's like an election where you pick the least of the worst and then you get into a type of scoring system and that takes awhile to work out.
Maybe I got them all right but took too long. I'm ponderous, after all, when it comes to poor choices.
Anyway, the guy was bragging at American Digest for basically getting an A and I kicked his ass easily. Smeared his face in vocabulary mud. Then expectorated mucilaginous sputum on his occiput. And did that with ease. And that's why they hated me in college because we were graded on the curve and I bent that curve back to 100% means 100%.
Because I'm a prick. I meant to say just now, because I studied like a mo-fo.
Here's how I studied. With ease and with joy and fun.
I tore apart my books and folded a section, longitudinally, more than I needed, and stuffed it into my inside pocket of my ski parka. I nice big section, like a magazine.
Then read the section on the chair lifts. The scenery is breathtaking, yes, but those lifts take a dreadfully long time and they stop quite a lot. And we're up there all day, and person sitting next to me generally doesn't want to talk. I read my section. Then read it again. And with nothing else to read, I read it again. I read the f out of those sections. I read them, literally, to death. They get snowed on, they get water damaged, they get food smeared on them. They're never read again. Only by me. I am the book's only reader.
The books were all ruined. Torn up and folded. I read in line at the grocery store. I read in line at the bank. I read in line at the cafeteria. I read at the laundromat, I read at red lights. I read waiting for the doctor, waiting for the interview, riding on the bus, waiting for the waitress, wherever my movement was halted. I read the shit out of those books. They were very expensive for me. And when my section is read multiple times and internalized then I whip out a NYT crossword puzzle and solve it. That was my life. When it came time to test, it was fun. That was my chance to show what I learned. That's how I kept accidentally bending the curve and pissing off other students. And the thing is, I never related to academia. I didn't belong there. I felt out of place the whole time. None of it was my natural thing. It's not me. Not at all. Like this vocabulary test. Those words are for people like the writer at American Digest. They are not for me. The test is not mine. It's just that I like to know what people are saying and I'm curious how other cultures say things. That's all. It's all rather stupid, actually. But, boy, do I know a f-load of words.
Achtung Fräus und Fräuleins! Do not leave home without a safety knockwurst in your knickers.
Is better than kryptonite.
The rape alarm takes care of the falling asleep on the bus problem.
Imus, long ago, how do you know you're a virgin. Did you ever fall asleep on the bus?
My first Doberman Susie knew 200 words and phrases in context.
The most trained Doberman ever.
My father, who did not believe in dogs, when Susie was suggesting by her posture that he could share some of his food at the table, said to her, "Ixnay."
He picked pig latin because he was afraid she'd understand him, which would produce a problem.
She understood him anyway.
Those are very impressive rape pants.
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