It doesn’t really seem to matter if your talking about fashion or cuisine, music, film genre, or a particular styling approach to something – it’s all acceptable and valued as long as you add the magic word into the mix you’ll be just fine. That magic word is FUSION.
Extending on that, you can also pretty much be as harsh and as frank as you feel regardless of the setting and the participants as long as you preface your comments/insight with ‘with all due respect…” and then let it rip.
Words can have a very powerful effect but what I really enjoy doing is strategically inserting my own personal word-of-the-day into the run of a conversation and see if it gets traction or not. Today it requires me to jauntily respond to any enquiry or question with a loud proclamation of “Tip Top!” followed by a lazy snap salute - just to add to the moment.
Aside from word of the day, I also like inserting on a very regular basis the words ‘nobbly’, ‘marmalade’ and ‘norks’ into my conversations and correspondence for no other reason than I just like the tactile feel of the words rattling about in my mouth before they spew forth.
Naturally I try to reserve the use of these special words for equally special moments….
By that I mean NOT in the newsagents, NOT when ordering lunch, NOT when answering the work phone or conversing with the cute receptionist from next door. Most recently I’ve been employing the ‘nobbly-marmalade-norks’ combination to myself while wondering how to reset my laptop so it kinda works again. I tend not to give a lot of consideration to on-screen instructions when installing new software and as a result…
That’s right! I’m the guy at Starbucks bunkered down in the deep seat muttering ‘marmalade’ and ‘nobbly norks’ to myself while pressing CTRL-ALT-DEL repeatedly. Timing on this is crucial. Depending on the result of the reboot, I’m also fond of declaring ‘sweet-lord-marmalade Mr Gates’ but usually the chirpy Starbuck crew have a had a quiet word to me by then, turned up the Ray Charles music, offered me a free Grande Latte while showing me to the front door.
Huh. At least you get the soft treatment. By the time I get to muttering “nobbly norks” to myself at the Starbucks here in town, they’ve usually called security and some woman named Stephanie is showing me the stranglehold she learned in her second Cardio Funk Kickboxing Class, while two Starbuck Crewmembers called Neville yell in the background “Pop his head off like you did to that guy last week!”, without realising, of course, that I am the guy she did it to last week.
I hate Starbucks.