What I mean when I say “fine”

I’ve found myself saying “and that’s fine a lot recently. I have a weird lexicon of words and their corresponding hacked semantics that I often use in more of a way to entertain myself than to inform other people. Having this weird lexicon keeps me entertained and also lets me filter in and out people who know me well or don’t. It’s like people who call me “Mike.” They have no idea who I am.

I’ve had to retire words from time to time. I used to say “exciting!” all the time to pretty much mean “that sounds less than insane; good for you; this is boring; let’s move on to the next topic.” (See what I mean about it being “weird”? Apparently I speak in semi-colons too.)

People at Dell figured this out after two or three hundred meetings with me, and would start using it in that same mocking way. I try to say “exciting!” less now. James was always super-astute at unmasking the real semantics. He’s one of the few people I’ve met who enjoys words qua words as much as I do.

Back to “fine.” As I explained to someone this morning, I have four levels of “goodness”:

  1. Burn the place down – doing so poorly that we should just shut it down. Awful.
  2. Doing poorly – not doing so hot, things need to be fixed.
  3. Fine – all things considered, given the choice, I’d rather be doing this then shooting myself in the nuts.
  4. Great – hey, I actually kind of like this.

Occasionally, other level of excellence are achieved, but they’re off the scale and usually involve booze and friends, not 9 to 5 existence.

You’ll never believe what I’m calling on!

I often tell people, “you’ll never believe what I’m calling from!” and they don’t seem to know what I’m saying. Also, the old “Bula Vinaka, Beachside!” AT&T commercial. I was talking with Barton George the other day about these two “cultural items” and it made me realize (a.) I watched a lot of TV when I was young and remember way too much of it, and, (b.) I’m constantly making way to many inside jokes about that crap content, like, yea, football phones. It’s like some thick English lit book that you need half a page of footnotes to understand except it’s about, yea, shitty long distance commercials and fictional burger wrappers.

Well, here they both are, just for Barton so he finally gets my stupid, way too inside jokes:

(P.S.: I’m going to start answering the phone by yelling, almost incomprehensibly “BULAVINAKABEACHSIDE!“)