However, ever since a recent upgrade, my computer’s decibel level dropped considerably. So much so, that Luke’s computer became the noisier one. Finding that the noisiest part of his ‘puter was the CPU fan, he decided not to just hammer the final nail in the coffin of Sound, but he decided to drop a big heatsink on top of it to dissolve any chance of the lid being lifted.

Meaning. . . he bought a really *!sailor talk!* big heatsink. It even need bracing on the back of the motherboard to keep it from snapping.

I must say, it is quite quiet (though a cinder block would probably be cheaper, and just as effective and heavy). The heatsink would’ve done the trick. . . if I didn’t start constantly humming to make up for the lack of non-silence.

The unedited CNN story (nothing special, really) can be found here.

Let me direct you to the scene that my eyes took in as I stepped outside to the back porch.

You can probably guess what the first words that came out of my mouth were—besides, “…do I really need to ask?”

*What doesn’t go good with food?**

**Watching a birth?

But now we move ahead hundreds/thousands of years later. Just like language and traditions, this method of devising Whom Is The Most Worthy got condensed into one qualifying requirement: speed. Whoever had the fastest tongue would be granted the owner of the treasure, whether food or friend (haven’t we all wanted to have sole proprietorship to our friends?). Let’s face it, if we didn’t verbally stake our possessions by screaming, “I call that last cupcake!!” or “Dibs on the free caaaar!!”, we’d just pee on everything. That’s what separates us from animals and drunks.

Whether you call it “dibs” or “hosies,” it’s just that magic word that gives to the almost-unspoken-yet-uttered right to bear only your paws on the item desired by two (or more) parties. And just like “Manwich”, there are many different words referring to the same… emotional outburst. In our case—starting in the late ’90s—the word was “claimed.” If there was only one instrument or foodstuff that we both wanted, whoever called “Claimed!” first would be able to get the rights. After about 5 years, “claimed” evolved into the more common exclamation, “dibs”. Nothing new though.

However, come 2005, our run-o’-the-mill “dibs” evolved into something greater. On one particular day of the year, when the recycling bin had to be emptied, one of yelled out, “undibs!” Just like that. With no warning. Just like when Christopher Sell dropped a twinkie in a pot of boiling grease and called it, “Food!” both words stuck. (Though obviously, more stuck to the deep-fried twinkie.)

And man oh man, “undibs” is much more quick-draw than dibs, as there is more things to “undibs” at. You never know when the opportunity will arise. Generally, it’s when the doorbell rings, when a general household chore has to be done, or when somebody calls our phone and we know we should answer, but don’t want to. Very simple. And what’s more, if two people “undibs” at the same time, whoever calls “double-undibs” gets the favor. This is where high reflexes (of realizing that “undibs” was called in unison) comes in. After at least a year of undibsing, it’s rare that we don’t both snap out a “double-undibs” at the same time, which means we “triple-undibs” is next. If it hasn’t been resolved by then, the final call, “Undibs Infinity,” “Googol Undibs” or “Unlimited Undibs” seals the deal. It’s never gotten to the point where we’ve both “tied” at that level. Having the choice of three responses slows the mind enough to offer a chance for just one of us to call it.

I never thought it’d happen, but the other day, as I was spreading a middle-aged caterpillar sized length of toothpaste on my toothbrush in the bathroom, the phone beeped. (Don’t worry, that’s happened before.) Almost immediately, thinking it was the front door, I exclaimed “Undibs.” Like a superhero using his power without realizing it, I thought to myself, “What just happened?” Just from hearing the beep, I executed the “keyword” like a reflex.
Could this be getting Pavlovian??

Good ol' 3M!

No doubt, there’s an appeal to Johnny Carson, and not just for the “Heeeere’s Johnny!” intro. His “Carnac the Magnificent” act never ceased to entertain, and not just because of that velvet sofa chair-like hat. It was the way he opened envelopes from the side. And even though Luke and I have never seen a full episode of the Johnny Carson Show, somehow we picked up that knack. However, it hasn’t boded well for us.

For instance, a few weeks ago, Luke tried it out with a mail order that arrived through our mailslot. Cool as the motion was, he unknowingly ripped the check in half. A little tape remedied that. Now just today, I suffered something slightly worse.

Last month, I applied for a passport to go to Antarctica to get some authentic, native ice for our snowcones. They kept my original birth certificate for . . . double checking. Anywho, today, I received a letter from the Department of State. Not knowing what it was, but assuming the worst in anycase, I picked it up. Audibly announcing “Heeeere’s Kyle!” to myself[1], with a flourish, I tore that yellow envelope from the side. Pulling out the contents, I realized that my birth certificate! “Crabcakes!” I vulgarly spewed, as I saw that the entire edge of the paper was unevenly torn.

I thought perhaps I could get a replacement, but unless I was gonna be able to squeeze myself back in the womb, that approach proved out of the question. So getting some trusty scotch tape and Elmer’s (which is how we repaired our back porch), I managed to fairly cleanly bring the two ends together.

Crisis… averted!

[1] There were no witnesses, so I may be making that part up.

Not to toot our horn myself, but we *know* Costco. We know when to go for the highest amount of samples. We know exactly how and when to swoop in and out of each sample stand with the least amount of uncomfortable standing-around time. Everything was worked out so fine and innate, that it was the subject for the Blogumentary – Costco Dining: Tricks of the Trade. As far as we (Me being the spokesperson for “we”) are concerned, we are Costco*. At least, we were Costco.

We’ve been going to Costco so long now, not only do we know the employees (mostly the sample host & hostesses), but now they know us! Even know our last names to boot! I mean, not that there is anything wrong with that, but no more can we just pull off a sample and fly away (without flapping our sample-laden arms mind you). Now, we need to at least have a minute of something to talk about. And we’ve got a lot of sample stands to go through! It’s not easy.

This is just like what happens when you date somebody in the workplace. Before, you could just walk by their cubicle. But after you’ve gone out on one date. . . Oy, you can forget about that. You then need to come up with material!

*To put it humbly.

To replenish the supply of ducks, we head out to Metzer Farms with friend Hua Jia Ming to pick up batch of pre-ordered ducklings.

Stay tuned to see how fast the little suckers grew up!

(Kyle, I think the word you’re looking for is “prologue”. —Luke)

She replied, “How?”

Well, I wasn’t expecting that, so it took me a while to find a legitimate answer, “Ah. I, uh… ah, I own stock in a solar company!” “Oh!” was her response. Then some polite laughter.

Which is true. 30 shares of First Solar. Not to mention 80 shares of Quanta Services (Wind power). That response beats the old “I recycle” reply. Only wish that I didn’t pause so long to answer.

This “Word of the Year” award is reinforced by what you will say after you finish reading this post – “Whatever.”

Personal Note: I used to not be much of a whatever-tosser at all. But now, for some reason, I am. Sometimes I get told a statement that I disagree with. For example, Papa explaining why lacquering or staining takes away the soul from the wood of an instrument (or such), or Luke telling me the “perfect” way for doing something in the shopwork department. (Something which I have more experience in, and know that what is presented to me ain’t the most efficient way to go about it.) Even though I am most always up for an aggresive toss o’ words, my rebuttle to certain statements (listed above) would have to go beyond, “Are you kidding me??” even though that’s all the comes into my head. Thus, rather than taking up the brainpower to create a rational rebuttle to something so petty, it can all be shirked off with a “whatever.” It’s actually not so bad.