A theory.

I have this theory about dorks. I’ve always accepted my dorky side. I actually like school (enough to spend 6 years in higher education). I scrapbook. I was a DECA dork in high school. I watch the Disney Channel of my own free will on occasion. I work at a company where we could debate a hyphen for at least an hour—and I’m not even kidding. Like I said, dork.

But it’s not that simple. I didn’t get beaten up in school. I never wore glasses. I even played sports and was in Student Body. I love going to see live music. I know how to party. I plan on skydiving this year. Not just a dork.

So here comes my theory. There is a dork-edge continuum. People can fall anywhere in the spectrum between DORK and EDGE. For example, I’d say the people I work with all have a certain level of edge, none of us would fall under the just plain “dork” category. Yeah, we debate hyphens and geek out about the Chicago Manual of Style (DORK). But we also go to bars in the middle of the day to watch basketball. And our company events are known to have Jello shots and free-flowing champagne (EDGE).

So what are you? A dork with a little bit of edge? Or are you edge with just a touch of dork? Maybe you’re all edge and you’re wondering what the hell a hyphen is. Take the poll to the left. Spread the theory around. Maybe one day I’ll write a book about it and teach academics all about my profound theory about dorks and edge, or edgy dorks depending how you look at it.

Find your edge

People constantly say that they want to be more hip. And when someone discovers something that classifies them as “hip” it makes their day and gives them bragging rights. I like to call this “edge.” Others might describe it as “cool” or “gangsta”—no matter the description, people strive for this edgy status.

How to get your edge:
Step one in making yourself appear edgy is to alter your language. Don’t go overboard, steer away from phrases like “jiggy.” Small simple changes will give you that subtle edge you desire. And it’s easy! Just mix up the endings of your words.

There are several ways of doing this:
1. Take off the ending of the word.
Instead of saying “That’s hilarious.” Say “That’s hilar.”

Instead of saying “My favorite song is Senorita.” Say “My fave song is Senorita.”

Instead of saying “I was busting up.” Say “I was bustin’ up.”

Be careful though, I’ve heard people say “ridic” instead of ridiculous, and this just doesn’t sound right…probably giving you negative edge points!

2. Alter the ending of the word:
My fave example is saying “preggo” or “preggars” instead of pregnant.
Other options:
Add “ster” to the end of a word.

“That guy was such a creepster.” Or “That guy was such a clingster!”

Add “ilicious” to the end of a word. “That’s nerdilicious.”

3)And if you’re ever in doubt of what to say, just bust out “Ohhhh, snap!”

I'm an Oregonian

Yesterday I had to stop and get gas in my stupid Grannie6. If you've talked to me in the last month you probably had to listen to me complain about the rental car I have right now (the aforementioned stupid Grannie6). I probably told you the dash is 100 miles long and then complained that my four-door rental sedan is longer than a station wagon AND a minivan. The Pontiac G6 and I don't get along, we just aren't meant to me. But I can appreciate the stupid Grannie6 for one reason, it caused my first "I'm an Oregonian" moment.

In my 11 years of living in the Portland metropolitan area, I've been a Washingtonian. I frequently visited the booming metropolis of Portland but never actually lived on that side of the Columbia River. In September I made the move to Portland, but I still cling on to my Washington roots. I work in Washington, I bank in Washington, my family is in Washington, my chiropractor is in Washington. You get the idea; I haven't fully embraced my Oregon residence.

Yesterday I officially became an Oregonian: I didn't know how to pump my own gas.

In just a few months I've got very accustomed to other people pumping my gas for me. So my stupid Grannie6 has the low fuel light on and I have to fill it one last time before gleefully handing over the keys. When I pulled up to the self-serve gas station in Vancouver, it felt a bit odd. I have to get out of my car? Gross!
It took me a minute to reacquaint myself with pumping gas. Do I first put in my debit card, or do I remove the gas handle first? Without too much difficulty, I paid for my gas and chose the appropriate octane. But here's where the difficulty came in... I couldn't get the gas tank open on the stupid Grannie6. I tried and tried but it didn't just twist off like any normal car. Stupid rental. I quickly realized how pathetic my situation was. "Shit! Am I really going to have to be THAT girl who goes into the gas station asking for help pumping gas?" I couldn't accept the title of the ditzy girl who couldn't pump her own gas, and being stubborn, I fought with that stupid Grannie6 gas cap until it popped open. I don't know what I did. I probably couldn't do it again -- thankfully I turned the rental back in today. And in my own defense, it’s not just that I'm ditzy or that I'm an Oregonian now. That dumb Grannie6 gas cap had a picture of the owner's manual on it. You shouldn't need an owner's manual to get gas. Stupid Grannie6. So yeah, big moment for me yesterday (and I turned in the stupid Grannie6 today, also a big moment).