Z is for ZOMG, #AtoZChallenge

Are you ready your final lesson on textspeak? Z is pretty limited when it comes to texting acronyms and slang, but there was one good one:

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Are you all WTF is she drinking, OMG doesn’t start with a Z! right now?

Well, this is legit, folks.

From what I’ve read, ZOMG started when someone accidentally put a Z before OMG, and apparently it stuck. ZOMG is used when you are really feeling the OMG over something or when you want to use OMG sarcastically.

If I were to complain about how this blogging challenge was challenging and really wore me out, you might say, ZOMG, you poor thing! while rolling your eyes.

Or, if I texted you about how Jax Teller was sitting in my driveway on his motorcycle, you might text back, ZOMG you lucky bitch!

So…ZOMG, the A to Z Challenge is over!

This has been a fun theme for me to write about, and I hope you’re now able text people with less difficulty. And if your improved texting skills are making things tough on them, you know where to send them.

In case you’ve missed some posts and don’t feel like going through them all, here are a few winners based on likes:

  1. A is for ATM
  2. F isn’t for FWB
  3. Tie between J is for J4F and I is for IDGAF

Alternative meaning: none.

Textspeak I passed up: Zzz (tired, bored).

Which acronym was your favorite?


P is for PW, #AtoZChallenge

Yes, I’m a day late again. Better late than never, though, amirite? Today’s (or yesterday’s) textspeak is one of my pet peeves.

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Passwords are one of the banes of my existence. As are PIN numbers (yeah, that’s redundant, but I just can’t do PIN), but at least those are only 4 to 6 digits. I long for the good ol’ days, when a password only had to be 7 letters long and there were no requirements to capitalize anything or add numbers. Those passwords were easy to remember. Passwords now? Not so much.


I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve forgotten passwords to this WordPress account. I’ve cycled through all of my old school passwords (plus numbers), family members, and am now in new password territory. I’ve lost Twitter passwords, Gmail passwords, and passwords for pretty much every online store (which maybe isn’t the worst thing).

Before you ask, I do click the “Save Password” option when prompted on Chrome, but unfortunately, that doesn’t count for shit when I need to log on to something on my phone. After combing through the mixed up files in my brain, I either get locked out or give up and have to move on to creating something new. Many curse words are used when this happens, much to Sam’s amusement. (Sidenote: why does it seem like Sam is always endlessly amused with anything that frustrates me? Hmph.) Also, before you ask, I’m way too paranoid to write down a list of my passwords anymore. I did that once on an old Yahoo account, much to my husband’s horror when he watched me pull up the note containing all of the log-in info for everything from our bank account to my Facebook account (although, maybe he was less horrified about Facebook). And y’all know how secure Yahoo is. Yikes.

So, no, I am not a fan of the passwords. Except for when someone lets me access ESPN on their Dish account, anyway. (Finding someone you can mooch off of is rule number one of Cutting the Cable.)

Alternative meanings: p**** whipped (one of the few times you’ll see me censor a curse word).

Textspeak I passed up: PBIAB (payback is a bitch), PITA (pain in the ass), PM (personal or private message), POS (piece of shit), and PTL (praise the lord).

S is for Sting (The Sword, Not The Singer)

For my post for the A to Z Challenge today, keeping with my nerd life theme (since I didn’t yesterday), I am writing about my Sting sword.

No, this isn’t one of those times when I’m being dirty–I really have a Sting sword! If you’re a Hobbit or Lord of the Rings fan, you know what I’m talking about, although you may chastise me for referring to it as a sword instead of a dagger.

Here’s the one my husband bought me for my 30th birthday. It is hanging over my fireplace Don’t you want to visit my house now? Lord of the Rings toys in my bedroom (also not dirty) and Sting hanging over my mantel.

The story behind Sting via LOTR Wikia:

Sting was an ancient Elvish blade made by weapon-smiths in Gondolin. When Orcs or goblins were within an undetermined radius of it, the blade glowed blue, alerting the wielder and others who could see it to their presence. It had been lost during the Fall of Gondolin, the same battle in which Turgon fell and Glamdring was taken. It appeared as a curved blade with a silver loop or spiral design on it, later runes were added to it by Bilbo after his adventures. These runes seem to have been made by the Elves as they are in Sindarin.

The blade was carried by Bilbo in The Hobbit after Bilbo found it in a Troll-hoard. Sting was found alongside Glamdring and Orcrist. Though just a dagger by the standard of elves, it made a perfect short sword for a Hobbit, although it was still rather small, as Bilbo initially chose to wear it “inside his breeches”[2] and was still able to travel and even run without any apparent inconvenience.

I was quite excited when I got my own Sting sword. About three months pregnant at the time, I whacked it against the wood chair in my kitchen to test it out and see how sharp the blade was. It left a small cut, but not very deep, so I know I can’t use it to fend off burglars.

When my friends came over for my 30th birthday party, they weren’t terribly impressed with my sword. They looked at me rather strangely, actually. This was after I proudly showed off my 75th anniversary edition of The Hobbit.

Little Man is infatuated with this sword. He wants to know if he gets it when I’m dead. I told him I might be buried with it, but we’ll see. (No point in giving the little mad scientist reason to speed up my demise.)

Even though it’s not great for home security, it does have one awesome power. As the story goes, it glow blue when orcs are near. Since Little Man gets scared a lot (to the point that he refuses to go in his bedroom at times “because there could be monsters in there”) and wants to stay in sight of his dad and me, to ease his fears a bit, I told him that the sword would glow blue if anything bad was around the house. Further, I told him that Sting was to me what Mjölnir is to Thor, and that if anything bad is about to happen, it will come to come so I can protect him.

(Maybe you think that I shouldn’t lie to my kid, but I am also working with him on different ways to ease his anxiety, ‘kay?)

Anyway, I took the sword in his room one night recently and I let him hold it and he carefully walked around his room, waving the sword about in every nook and cranny. It didn’t glow blue. His fears were eased, at least momentarily.

K is for Kryptonite (But Don’t Smoke It)

I’m not sure where my notebook is with the things I’ve written down to blog on for the A to Z Challenge. I’ll find it, but not right now, because the couch is comfy and I don’t want to move. I asked my husband for a suggestion for the K topic, hoping I wouldn’t have to move. He delivered: kryptonite. (This post probably won’t be how he imagined it going, though.)

Kryptonite: the green stuff that makes Superman not so super.

Lex Luthor loves the shit.

Batman has been known to carry it.

(Is there really any question about how shady Batman is now? Between his tendency to dress in black and lurk about like a creeper, he also has also been known to carry a bit of kryptonite around, just in case. Told y’all he was suspect!)


Yes, I am a hater.

So, Superman gets all weak in the knees over kryptonite, certain bad guys and so-called heroes have been known to get their grubby paws on it.

Yawn. Let’s go to google, shall we?

When one can use an Office gif, one does.

When one can use an Office gif, one does.

Ooh! In the first few search results, we have the Urban Dictionary’s take on kryptonite, the Kryptonite Handbook, and the song Kryptonite from 3 Doors Down.

First things, first. Urban Dictionary–the leading authority on the meaning of words as they’re commonly used.

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If anyone ever offers me the opportunity to purchase kryptonite, I would definitely Just Say No. (This way I can’t be duped into thinking I’m going to jail again!)

Next up–Kryptonite Handbook. This one was slightly disappointing. I was expecting that it would, perhaps, be a play on The Anarchist Cookbook. I have no idea why I thought that, besides the fact that there may be something wrong with me. Oh well.

The non-political version–

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The political version (perhaps this will read President Clinton’s Kryptonite Handbook in another year and a half or so?)–


And, finally, the song Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down. This was released when I was a sophomore in high school, so it has some age on it.

And since my brain went from the song Kryptonite to “Hey, wasn’t there also a Superman song out when I was in high school?” I found this:

By the way, if you were wondering what my personal kryptonite is, it’s chocolate. Yummy, delicious milk chocolate. So if you get pissed off at me for some reason, feel free to send it my way.

I is for Identity: Angel vs. Angelus

With identity, I could go the obvious route and talk about how superheroes have to protect their regular joe (or super rich joe, in the case of Batman and Iron Man) identities and whatnot.


Instead, I’d rather talk about identity relating to a different hero of sorts–he’s more of an antihero, really. This identity struggle doesn’t have anything to do with private life vs. superhero persona, but a struggle to establish what he is, a man who battles the monster within or a demon with the heart and soul of a champion. He’s done terrible things, yet strives for atonement while battling the evil that he knows lurks within.



If you aren’t a Buffyverse fan, then you may not be aware of the TV series Angel that was a spin-off of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I highly recommend both shows. Considering my musical recommendations yesterday, you’ll either go on a Netflix binge this weekend or raise your eyebrows and back away slowly.

(The show was brilliant IMO, and was such a throwback to comics, mythology, and much more. Or you could view it as just a vampire-detective show and enjoy it on the surface. I’ve watched the series multiple times and have done both.)

The show focused on Angel (obviously), the vampire with a soul. Angel was about as bad ass as a vampire could get in his heyday (when he went by Angelus), and was known for tormenting his victims both physically and psychologically. While he was a killer by nature, there was some part of him that went above and beyond the normal blood and gore expected of a vampire. Killing wasn’t just about survival for him–he enjoyed it.

Cordelia: [to Angel] You’re handsome and brave and heroic, emotionally stunted, erratic, prone to turning evil, and let’s face it, a eunuch.

One day Angel screwed with the wrong people, got a gypsy spell put on his ass, and his soul was restored (and would remain that way as long as he a) didn’t achieve true happiness in the form of sexing up Buffy, which he did or b) he didn’t use removing his soul as part of a plan to find out how to battle an evil dude, which he also did).

With his soul intact, Angel was very aware of every single wrong he had done, haunted by the people he had hurt in fact, and would spend the rest of his life trying to atone for his sins, even though he knew that wasn’t possible.

On the show, we see Angel taking on a number of evil characters, yet his biggest fear (IMO) isn’t so much the evil he fights while being the champion of the underdog, it’s the demon he knows is lurking inside.

Gunn: No matter what else, I think I proved that you can trust me when I could have killed you and I didn’t.

Angel: No. You’ll prove that I can trust you when the day comes that you have to kill me — and you do.

And by “demon,” I don’t mean just the vampire component. Other vampires didn’t go to the extremes that he did with their victims, so why did he? Who was the real demon–the vampire or the man?

I think most of us can relate to his identity struggle to an extent. There’s good and bad in us all–Angel struggles with his inner demon, one that may or may not have been there all along, yet there is such an innate goodness to him, too. Pondering the evil we could be capable of is scary territory to venture into.

(I’ve been over this post a dozen times. I don’t feel that it is quite complete yet, but I can’t put my finger on what’s missing, either. So, I’ll publish it as is for now and get my challenge post out of the way, but may come back to it later if I figure out what I need to add.)