BareNaked Java

DISCLAIMER: I am not a programmer. I work with Java folks, and I don't pretend to be as smart as them. This struck me as a funny idea and I poked through the Java help forums for beginner stuff. If it isn't structurally sound, I'm not surprised. And yeah, pretend I did the indents, cuz I did, but stupid Blogger won't show them.


class IfHadMillionDollars {
public static void main(String [] args {

switch (purchase) {
case 1: System.out.println("house"); break;
case 2: System.out.println("furniture"); // chesterfield or ottoman; break;
case 3: System.out.println("k-car"); // reliant automobile; break;
case 4: System.out.println("your love"); break;
}
void buildTreeHouse(){
if (isHelping){ // effort not as hard
tinyFridge--; // pre-wrapped sausages (bacon == null)
}
}
switch (purchase) {
case 5: System.out.println("fur coat"); // coat == real; break;
case 6: System.out.println("exotic pet"); // llama or emu; break;
case 7: System.out.println("Merrick's remains"); // crazy elephant bones; break;
case 8: System.out.println("your love"); break;
}
void gotoStore(){
if (rentLimo){ // cost is increased
kraftDinner--; // fancy Dijon Ketchup
}
}
switch (purchase) {
case 9: System.out.println("green dress"); // dress == real; break;
case 10: System.out.println("art"); // Picasso or Garfunkel; break;
case 11: System.out.println("monkey"); // I have always wanted a monkey; break;
case 12: System.out.println("your love"); break;
}
System.out.println("I'd be rich.");
}
}
}

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NOTE: I did not make this, although I wish I had.

Random Silliness

In case it wasn't already obvious, work and life have been kicking my ass lately. The MMWP has grown to gigantic proportions, and my days are filled with meetings leaving little time (except evenings and weekends) to catch up on emails and regular work.

Tonight is one of the few nights I've been able to successfully boycott working after dinner.

As a result, most conversations between Tom and me consist of me ranting while he listens as we come home, or us cracking jokes while listening to Stephanie Miller on the way to work. A few nights ago, I spotted a new billboard on our commute route--a Spanish McDonald's board advertising, "Sausage McMuffin con huevo".

This spawned some predictable responses:

"What do they call a Quarter Pounder in Mexico?"
"Does Mexico use metric or imperial?"
"Metric, I think."
"What's the Spanish word for quarter?"
"What's 'Royale' in Spanish?"
"I got it--they call it the Quarter Pounder con queso!"

I spent a good deal of time amending everything I saw with "con huevo". It's just fun to say. Billboard for healthcare? "Cigna con huevo!" City bus with a PSA plastered to the side? "Just say no con huevo!" Be caller number 9 to win tickets to big concert, "Kansas con huevo!"

Somewhere around there, things took an odder turn. Tom has a smattering of French from his childhood spent growing up 40 miles from the Canadian border, trying to get a peek of boobies from the CBC programming coming from Montreal. I recall ridiculously little of my 2 1/2 years of Spanish--just about enough to translate "con huevo". I asked Tom what quickly became a dangerous question:

"What's the French word for egg?"
"Oeuf."
"Uff?"
"Oeuf."
"Uhff?" I was trying to curl my mouth around my teeth but it wasn't working right. My French pronunciation is pitiable. "How is that spelled?"
"O-e-u-f."
"Well, that there's your problem! There are entirely too many vowels in that word!"

Tom laughed. "French has that. Remember 'oui'?"
"Wee? Oh, oui! Oui!
"Why do ya ask?"
"I was wondering if the French call it, 'Sausage McMuffin avec oeuf'."
"I'm sure they have a different name."
"I hope so. Avec oeuf isn't as cool as con huevo!"

This is about the time when I morphed into Beavis. "Huevo! Con huevo! Necessito huevo por mi queso! Si!" Then it was time for another of my stupid questions. "Hey, if I go to France, and I order two eggs, would I ask for "duh uff?"
"Duh-zehrv."
"What?"
Tom repeats it, something sounding like a pretentious pronunciation of deserve.
"Where'd the z come from?"
"When the x precedes a vowel, it sounds like a zed."
"Zed? Since when are you kiwi?"
Tom ignores me. "Zed. 'Deux oeuv'."
"Duh uhv...wait--where is the v coming from?"
"Plural. F becomes a v. Deux oeuv."
"Duhuhvvvvv."
"Close."
"What about three eggs?"
"Trois oeuv, I think."
"Five?"
"Cinq oeuv."
"Sank oeuv?"
"Your pronunciation sucks."
"I know!"
"Just sayin'"
"My mouth isn't made right."
"Uh-huh."
"What oeuv?"
"No, I said uh-huh."

Tom's making a turn onto another surface street, and I realize we've been carrying on this silliness for almost twenty minutes of our ride. Tom is counting in French under his breath, while I'm still pondering the whole oeuf to oeuv thing and this mysterious zed. "So French has a hidden Z?"
"Sometimes."
"Is there a silent q?"
"No."
"There are silent t's and silent r's."
"Yeah, tons of those."
I try counting to ten as Tom laughs at my attempt, "Uhn, duh, twah, cat, sank, seize, set, wheat, nuff, deesay."
"Dix."
"What?"
"You said deesay. Not deesay, dix."
"Deece?"
"Yep. What's deesay?"
"Deesay? Oh, dice. Twelve in Spanish."
"Oh, OK."
"So, Deece uhv?"
"No, dix oeuv." He says it again like he's drawing out deserve.
"I thought that was two eggs?"
"No, deux oeuv, dix oeuv. It's different."
"Not different enough if I'm ordering. I don't wanna ask for two eggs and get a dozen."
"Ten, not twelve."
"Whatever."
"Nuff of."
"What?"
"Nine eggs. Neuf oeuv."
"As is, 'I've had enough of neuf oeuv?'"
Tom laughs. "Yeah, that would work."

What's really weird about this whole conversation?

I'm allergic to egg yolks. I'll never order eggs in any language.