IBers And The Games We Play

One of the best reasons to join IB is the people you'll be forced to spend your entire day with. We're quirky, nerdy, neurotic, and one big intellectual family.
One of the games we play, which is a good demonstration of how an "IB-type" personality manifests in ways besides just being book-smart, is 1000 Blank White Cards. The point of the game is - well, there isn't really one. The general concept is, everybody makes up cards to play on each other, themselves, or that can affect the entire table. The cards consist of a title, a silly drawing, and a point value or other action. If this sounds like a complete waste of time and you can't possibly imagine how it could ever be fun, then you may be a little too normal for us.
A few nights ago, Roi and I met up with four of the senior boys at Starbucks to play. Below are some of the highlights from the game. There were too many good ones to post all of them here, but since it's summer vacation and I have nothing else IB-related to talk about, you'll probably get to see them all.
Also, since I talk about the senior boys enough now, they all have their own nicknames. There's Tilapia, who works at Starbucks, Nigiri (named after a cut of sushi in keeping with the fish theme) was in mock trial with me, Jono has known me since I was in 2nd grade, and (another one who hasn't picked a nickname yet) is so awesomely Asian, he gives me free pocky from his job.

Tilapia made this one. It really needs no explanation.

Nigiri drew this. The colors change halfway through because I didn't want the purple pen and made him trade me. Ah, the joys of being an empowered woman.

I made this one and it is by far one of my favorite cards, ever.

Jono made this one. The utter randomness of it makes me laugh every time I look at it; as does the contrast between the caption and the dog's expression. Is it me, or is everything funnier without punctuation? (Case in point: this guy)

Tilapia made this card, which upset Jono because " 'go to hell' is not a valid card action!" so I think he awarded bonus points for people who got the reference. (I have never played a game of 1000BWC where points were actually tallied afterward. The game is such anarchy that it would almost defeat the purpose.)

The Stories Behind All The Silly Nicknames

So, when I decided to start a blog about school halfway through the school year, I kind of didn’t realize that material would dry up a bit over summer vacation. So, to prevent this from completely dying (all two of you who actually check this for updates), this week, you get: The Stories Behind All The Silly Nicknames.

When I actually started getting serious about this, I realized that I needed to have actual Tucker-Max-(no link for you, I’m clean now)-type nicknames. And because I didn’t want to get jumped by a disgruntled fan who didn’t appreciate their nickname, I let people pick their own. That was a mistake.

The following conversation (via facebook) between me and Roi: (And no, we’re not actual girlfriends, that’s a JOKE. And yes, we do tend to refer to ourselves in third person. Don’t judge us.)

Me: You need a nickname. That's not "my girlfriend".
Roi: how about "amazing friend that is so awesome, you can't even put it into words without sounding ridiculous and using too many "a" adjectives
Me: your nicnkame makes the acronym "aftisoaycepiiwwsrautmaa". That's a bad thing.
Roi: 1)coolest acronym ever 2)extremely annoying for you to type (a definite plus) 3)please don't give me a mean one now, like retard on ice. (roi)i kinda like that. like a feminine version of roy.wowza, i'm cool.love, roi
Me: that's it; you're Roi on Compaionable Ills. What is it with three-letter two-vowel nicknames?
Roi: [Roi] wants to cry. only a little. i like roi. you better mention i named myself.

Side note: Roi is the only one of these that has caught on in real life. Ha ha.

Red Dog was less-than-thrilled about being associated with something as… well, you know… as an IB blog – until he realized he could pick any name and I had just agreed to call him that all over the internets. Tell the truth, I’m surprised - and eternally grateful - that he didn’t pick The Earthly Manifestation Of All That Is Manly And Hot (Temoatimah) or something like that. (No, Red Dog, you cannot change your nickname to that now.)

Geo and Meg are nick-nicknames – manipulations of their real-life names into untraceable, three-letter internet names. They don’t stand for anything, though suggestions are welcome.

Goa is a city in India. Goa herself is a proud Indian. It fits, and it’s what started the three-letter, vowel-heavy tradition of 5 nicknames.

5 is our 5-girl clique. We have a name for it that’s made up of the first letters of our last names, but here 5 works just fine. Call me lazy.

Ex is… Roi’s ex. The nickname fits him, since it’s only his status as Roi’s ex that makes him even remotely noticeable to 5 or worth mentioning here. His nickname might change to Turtle soon – the result of a 5 inside joke that would be pointless to try to explain. It would also make clique-related nicknames kind of a requirement, given that he’s good friends with Duckie (also Ex’s Friend, who really doesn’t warrant a nickname yet). Duckie is another nick-nickname, and also really fits, if you know him.

The Senior Boys are… a group of senior IB boys we hang out with. They’ve never needed specific nicknames, so they just go by SB#1, SB#2, etc. with the exception of Tilapia, which is a personal joke between me and him, and really doesn’t warrant any explanation – I’m a little sadistic at times, is all.

My nickname, Sal, is taken from J.D. Salinger. Why? Because The Catcher In The Rye is the be-all-and-end-all of teen-angst literature, and I’m writing a blog about being in IB. Try and tell me it doesn’t fit.

IB Insults

IB vs. “Normal” Insults:
(Yes, I or one of my friends did say every one of these)

Normal: Hey, what moron dumped their stuff all over my desk?
IB: Imperialist swine!

Normal: Wow, way to say something retarded.
IB: Your Wernicke’s area just failed big-time.

Normal: You’re a sucky driver.
IB: In Soviet Russia, car drive YOU!

Normal: That’s a really bad grade.
IB: That’s a bigger failure than the Bay of Pigs!

Normal: You’re gay.
IB: You sound like Harry Harlow.

Normal: You’re a nerd.
IB: You’re even more of a nerd than me.
*A little note on the n-word: It’s just like the other n-word. We can use it with each other, but nobody else is allowed to call us that.

Normal: OHH BURN!
IB: You better buy some stock in the Aloe-Vera company, ‘cause you’re gonna need a lot of it for that BURN!

Normal: Does she ever shut up?
IB: Major oral fixation.

Normal: Don’t be such a girl.
IB: You have ovaries.

Normal: My little brother’s so annoying. He’s all into sports with my dad…
IB: My little brother’s so annoying. He’s totally latent stage…

Normal: If my boyfriend ever talks to me that way again, he’s history.
IB: He sounded just like Torvald, and I will not be Nora.

Normal: Hey, that was kinda racist.
IB: Uh oh. Do we have to break out the dolls?

IB Books

It's summer vacation. I should be relaxing and not thinking at all about colleges, high school, IB, or tests. Instead, I take the SAT tomorrow. I'm also sitting at the computer answering two pages of Biology questions thanks to summer homework.

Surprisingly, though, I could have maintained a cheerful attitude through it all. Heck, nobody joins IB unless they have a larger-than-is-probably-healthy masochistic streak. I'm used to it. In fact, I'm grateful for this summer homework. Really! But what finally got to me, is this:

IB makes books.

That don't open.

Alright, to be fair, the book isn't directly out of Switzerland IB HQ. But it is "for use with the IB". And it's an okay book, too. The diagrams are easy to draw and it's paperback and easy to carry around. (See how optimistic and forgiving I can be?)

But the thing is, the book doesn't stay open long enough for you to actually learn anything. It's got a one-inch spine that's even more unbreakable than my spirit. All year, in Bio class, whenever we had to draw a diagram or answer some questions, you could look around and see kids with their elbows at awkward angles, trying desperately to hold their books open while completely destroying their ability to draw, write, or feel their fingers. I use my other Bio book, which is hardback and weighs more than all 5 members combined (though that's not saying much) to hold the book "flat". Here's my technique:

1.) Find a space big enough to accomodate two textbooks and whatever worksheet you have. (This eliminates both of my desks and the area in front of my computer)

2.) Open the little blue book (remember to stretch first) and find the page you're looking for. Beware: the index is done by chapters, so this might take a while.

3.) Lay the blue book open at the correct page. When it snaps itself shut, repeat step 2.

4.) Place the red book on top of the blue book, at least two inches down from the top. (If you need to look at something close to the top of the page... good luck.)

5.) Tilt your head parallel to the floor if you need to read anything on the bottom half of the page, as it is curved due to the book's valiant efforts to close itself. (Pretend you're reading one of those code things on the back of cereal boxes - it's fun!)

6.) Repeat steps 2-5 if you need to turn the page.

But, seriously. I know we're IB, and we're smart and everything, but that really doesn't mean we don't need books that open. You can give us summer homework, and you can give us two incomprehensible textbooks, and we'll be fine... but please don't add insult to injury by requiring us to be both engineers and contortionists in order to read the textbooks.

Oh, and you're not fooling anyone making the history textbooks look like novels. They're still not interesting, and now there aren't even any pictures.