Your Latest Dwombos (Daily Word Combinations)

New lexical creations to describe current events and occurrences at Northwestern? Why, of course!

Hot Cookie Bar beats writing that thesis on the Roberts Court any day of the week.

Procrastin-eating
If you’ve ever sat down to finish a problem set, and instead played Sporcle until Allison opened at 4:45, you’re procrastin-eating. If you’ve ever found yourself entirely focused on your bag of vending-machine Salsitas that you weren’t hungry for until you saw the vast white expanse of Microsoft Word that you must magically transform into The A+ Paper That Will Save Your Grade, you’re procrastin-eating. When you don’t know the answer, don’t want to figure it out, and it’s snacktime, you’re procrastin-eating. My name is Eleanor Kinkervoss and I am a procrastin-eater.

Girl Talk at Congress Theater

Gillis gets his mashup on at the Congress Theater

Girl Talk. Say the name and you’ll invoke either confused stares (you mean when two girls have a conversation?) or swoons. For all those who are sane and awesome, the primary response is definitely swooning and awe. And at his concert Saturday night at the Congress theater, good old Gregg Gillis, a.k.a. “Girl Talk,” did not disappoint his loyal legions of followers.

Lessons learned at Girl Talk:

Gregg Gillis truly is a god among men.
Sitting through the first two opening acts was worth it just to hear Gregg push buttons on a keyboard. There are very few people who can legitimize the pushing of buttons as a talent, and he is one of them. Girl Talk played a bunch of his newer mixes from “All Day,” but kept things lively by not just using samples the audience would have heard before. Instead he mixed things up, keeping the dance party fun and bumpin’. (In many cases, quite literally bumping. But I’ll get to that later.) His remix of “Shout!” was probably one of the best things ever — the sold out theater thought nothing of crouching onto the disgusting, beer-covered floor and “gettin’ a little bit softer now.” Nothing would have made me touch that floor unless Girl Talk commanded me to. Also, for those with some PITTSBURGH PRIDE, there was a quality remix of Black and Yellow that personally melted my heart. (Girl Talk is a Pittsburgh native, suckas. Interestingly enough, so is Christina Aguilera.). Gregg even whipped out some classics, like a mix of “Jesse’s Girl” with “BUT I’D RATHER GET SOME HEAD” thrown in. Good stuff.

We assume that the same person who did Kanye's "All the Lights" video was also responsible for Girl Talk's lighting

The visual elements were also sick. The constantly changing lights behind Gillis on stage were absolutely insane. (Also a quick shoutout to the opening act who had a scene from The Room incorporated into one of his songs.) The audience was frequently barraged with artillery raining down from the sky — balloons, confetti, etc. — which only made the show even more fun and chaotic.

Overall, Girl Talk kept things funky fresh and superb. His ability to make hipsters flail their arms and dance wildly instead of headnodding is unchallenged. Ain’t no party like a Girl Talk dance party.

Grow a pair. Or pregame harder.
The only problem with Girl Talk concerts, quite honestly, is the crowd. Back in the good old days, when Gregg was performing at smaller venues in Pittsburgh — Mr. Small’s, this is your shoutout — the crowd was fun and goofy. If you wanted to climb on stage with your friends, it was pretty easy. Everyone respected your dance space. One time, on stage, Girl Talk announced he wanted Taco Bell. So he got some — and then upon leaving, bouncers handed out burritos to everyone. Girl Talk had ordered Taco Bell for everyone in the audience. Nowadays, it’s not as personal of an atmosphere. As a chica barely over five feet, I can (and do) get my shit wrecked by pushy high schoolers, which, while embarrassing, is mostly just annoying.

Sweaty-bastard overload

The crowd at the Congress was particularly rowdy. Getting to the front row basically required a willingness to never let your feet to touch the ground, instead simply being pushed violently from side to side. It was a feeling similar to being hit with tsunami waves simultaneously from all sides. So that was unfortunate. This phenomenon leaves the audience members with two options: either accept the imminent crushing of infinite sweaty bodies, or push back. Or a perfect compromise: go to the side a wee bit, still dance intensely, but avoid being elbowed in the face about twenty times. And then just go to town and not give a crap about who you hit with your own elbows. It’s a dog eat dog world out there, people.

The Verdict:
Prepare to get extremely sweaty, pushed around by high schoolers who think they are cool and moshers who are a little desperate for human contact. Did I get sweaty? Yes. Did I have drinks spilled on me? Yes. Was it fucking awesome? YES.

–Alison Decker

Your weekly DWOMBOS (Daily Word Combinations)

There’s a new trend sweeping the nation, moving faster than the Democratic senators fleeing from Wisconsin.

"Douchey Governor" = Douchenor

This phenomenon is known affectionately by its proponents as Wombinations. Or, for those not in the know, word combinations: the grammatical practice of saving syllables, commonly used since at least fifth grade, when most likely, like I did, you heard the word “fugly” for the first time. Or the word “brunch.” Anyway, why bother saying two words when you can wittily combine them into one?

I’m a huge fan of wombinations in general. You’re at a party, you whip one out, and you instantly become a hero. Someone used the word “snigloo” to refer to a snow igloo after that blizzard, and I’m pretty sure I Facebook friended them the next day.

Sure, combining two words into one for every single sentence you utter may seem a little excessive (lexcessive), but why use two words (twords) when one will suffice (wuffice?)

To provide some inspiration for you amateur wombinators out there, I graciously have provided you with examples from my week. Hopefully this gets those brains churning and keeps you sounding fly!

My Dwombos: (Daily word combo. Yes, that’s three words in one. GET ON MY LEVEL.)

16 ounces worth of poor decisions

Saturday, February 19: Fralcohol.
Also can be shortened to fralch, for people experienced in the art of wombinating. This is an extremely complex wombination. The term technically refers to free alchohol, but also can be construed as “frat alcohol.” This refers to the fact that girls can get free alcohol at most frats. Thanks for helping shitshows everywhere, brothers! You have my shining approval.

Sunday, February 20: Fill.
I’m aware that fill is already a word, but in this case, it stands for “fucking kill.” It’s best used when really frustrated with someone, and in conjunction with something like “with pudding” i.e; I will FILL YOU WITH PUDDING. (I will fucking kill you with pudding.)

Monday, February 21: Kake.
No, I didn’t misspell cake. This is for a “Keg mistake.” Somewhat self-explanatory. The Keg of Evanston is infamous for these sorts of shenanigans. Many mistakes have occurred on the dance floor, or on the poles surrounding the dance floor…

Tuesday, February 22: Graight. (pronounced great!)
When I can’t tell if someone is gay or straight, they are “graight!” Oftentimes, they are also great. It works on a variety of levels.

The only plausible excuse to justify your purchase of the entire Phish discography

Wednesday, February 23: Hightunes.
Albums you accidentally buy on iTunes while under an inebriated state of mind, or songs that are freaking incredible to listen to while in the same state. Examples include “What Would I Want? Sky!” by Animal Collective … does anyone listen to Animal Collective as sobunes (sober tunes???)

Thursday, February 24: Winner.
As a Willard resident, I eat dinner at Willard EXTREMELY OFTEN. Or every night. No, it never gets old. Made to order entrees with a buzzer?!?! How much more awesome can you get?! PLUS that chef who told me he is going to force me to eat 30 pounds of baked cinnamon apples because I order them so often?! Anyway, back to the point. When you eat a Willard dinner, you are eating a winner. Thus, you are a winner because you are what you eat. Unstoppable logic.

Friday, February 25: Chaze.
In honor of Chet Haze’s new mixtape, I give you a way to sound knowledgeable about this up-and-coming STAR, Chet Haze. Never refer to him with two words again! (A bonus: freshman freak hoe = froe. You’re welcome)

With this guide and glimpse into some common scenarios in which wombinations are appropriate, I hope you will continue to dwombo it up. Make me a happy camper, kids — hamper.

by Alison Decker