Exploded pie! …charts.

It brings me unspeakably irrational joy that “3D exploded pie” is actually a legitimate method of presenting data. No really. It’s a thing.

A chart with one or more sectors separated from the rest of the disk is known as an exploded pie chart. This effect is used to either highlight a sector, or to highlight smaller segments of the chart with small proportions.

Wikipedia (of course)

For example, this is an exploded pie chart OF pies:

Exploding pie chart of pies

{via Peltier Tech}

The thing is that regular pie charts are (potentially) amusing enough…

{via cheezburger}

…even if doughnut charts are better.

{via The Functional Art}

But an EXPLODED pie chart! The New York Times knows what I’m talking about (no really, in response to an article about the death of pie charts, someone worked out how to make an actual pie actually explode, and then actually did it).

Of course this also means there’s such a thing as exploded doughnuts. Er, exploded doughnut charts. (I know, more boring. Sorry.)

SO.

If doughnut chart > pie chart… and exploded pie chart > regular pie chart… then by reason, exploded doughnut chart > regular doughnut chart… and the hierarchy of baked-good–based data presentations is:

1) exploded doughnut chart
2) exploded pie chart
3) doughnut chart (intact)
4) pie chart (intact).

Which is, oddly enough, the exact inverse of my personal preference for actual pies and doughnuts.

.

PS. I don’t* have the time to delve into the differences between “doughnut” and “donut”, but it’s interesting to note that the latter, while deemed wholly** American by English-speakers outside the US, might only be used one-third of the time in US English. Anyway, the Macquarie Dictionary spells it “doughnut”, as do the all the best doughnut joints I’ve frequented, so that’s good enough for me.

PPS. The difference between the American concept of pie (Apple! Pecan! Pumpkin! Peanut butter! Cherry! Banana cream!) and the Australian concept of pie (meat) is even more perplexing and not worth discussing. Sweet pie (NOT exploded; see the conclusion to the list above) is better and that. Is. That.

*The apostrophe doesn’t mark a missing “u”.

**And “holey”, I suppose.

40 literary terms you should know (and 4 reasons why)


40 literary terms you should know

Why should you read and/or bookmark this list?

1) It is interesting and informative. If you don’t know the meaning of bildungsroman or hamartia, you need to read this.

2) I found it via Elmo Keep. Once upon a time, Elmo taught me all about teh interwebz at university, and I probably didn’t do all the recommended readings for that course, so we can (collectively, retrospectively) make up for it now by reading something recommended by her.

3) The self-referential humour in entry #30 is quite self-referentially humorous.

4) Entry #40 is one of my favourite words: verisimilitude.


Go forth and learn!

Read (v.): This article is cooler than a frappawhatsit

The Joy of Indefinite Words: Is a Spillion More than a Metric Buttload?

As a fan of “it’s eleventy bagillion hot outside”*, I adore this image and the accompanying article in equal measures.

Here’s an excerpt, if you need convincing:

“The Oxford English Dictionary traces “zillion” back to a 1944 quote: “I love him a zillion dollars’ worth.”…

These words are just the tip of the whatsit-berg. The lexical banquet of the web has produced more than a smattering of creative, bonkers words, many playing on “thingamajig.” Some are specific, like “tupperware-thingy-majigger,” “blog-site-location-amajig,” “twittermajiggy,” and “frappawhatsit”…”

See? It’s eleventy awesome.

*No really, it is. Sydney has become trapped in the (fierce, sweaty) grip of a late-Summer heatwave. We’re dying. Send ice-cream**.

** Prompted by the recent acquisition of an ice-cream machine, I’ve been pondering whether it’s correct to hyphenate “ice-cream” even in its noun form (noting that hyphenation is a given when it’s used as a compound adjective). My eyePhone does so automatically, and I tend not to trust such ‘corrections’… but I’ve just checked the OED, and it too hyphenates “ice-cream (n.)”. I’m sold (though not cold).

Not dead, just dead busy

Cyanide and Happiness - You misspelled useless

Fear not, interweblings! I have not been busy writing suicide notes, incorrectly or otherwise.  Granted, I’ve not been busy writing blog posts either. I have, however, been busy proofreading (hurrah!), and it would seem the busyness of this business has rendered me a useless blogger. I can live with it if you can.

Inglourious Grammar Nazis

So insensitive, but SO funny


“Me and her buy her milk at the same market.”

“Me and her? Surely you meant to say ‘She and I’.”

“Yes, of course.”

“The trick is to take the other person out the sentence to see if it makes sense. ‘Me buy milk’? I think not.I buy milk’. You see?”


Very insensitive. Very funny. AND ALSO VERY INFORMATIVE.

(I always use the I/me rule.)


And yes, I aware that this is the second [grammar] Nazi-related Proof (v.) post. But in my defence, me didn’t invent the term. Neither did Encyclopædia Dramatica… but it is defined there so very well:

Grammar Nazi is a term given to one who incessantly corrects the spelling/grammar/usage of others. Everyone hates Grammar Nazis because they are the ultimate lulz killers.

(Do yourself a favour and read the whole thing. Again, it’s admittedly offensive, but terribly HILARIOUS).

General admits bullets don’t solve everything

“Some problems in the world
are not bullet-izable”

– Brig.Gen. H. R. McMaster,
We Have Met The Enemy and He Is Powerpoint, nytimes.com

Does the General realise that his anti-PowerPoint quip is also a marvellously ironic anti-war slogan?

PS. No, “bullet-izable” is NOT a word.

PPS. The PowerPoint slide in question is actually rather pretty (if you ignore the content).


{ click for detail/zoom }

Bowie (n.): or “Why I Have Accepted the Macquarie as My Day-to-Day Dictionary”


“Bowie: David (David Robert Jones), born 1947, British pop singer and composer, an important influence in experimental rock music.”



I’m a tiny bit of an Oxford English Dictionary snob. If I had unlimited access to it (my university student online subscription only has the tiniest whisper of life in it) I would refer to nothing else. I love it so much I have read multiple books ABOUT the OED [The Meaning of Everything, The Surgeon of Crowthorne, Reading the OED...] and have a whole lot of blogging love for the OED Word of the Day email.

Failing that, I defer to (gasp) Wiktionary, as even the most cursory glance through Proof (v.) will reveal.

But I have suddenly find myself consulting an actual tome-of-a-dictionary several times a day, and the one that happens to be close at hand is the Macquarie. I was reticent to accept its authority (we Australians are best known for butchering the English language, not documenting it)… until today, when I stumbled upon the aforeblogged entry:


“Bowie: David (David Robert Jones), born 1947, British pop singer and composer, an important influence in experimental rock music.”


Macquarie Dictionary, if you are going to have an entry on David Bowie, I defer to your most tasteful authority.


(The awesome photo wasn’t in the dictionary. It’s from Hi-ReS! feed. Read the [quite unsurprising] story of Bowie’s Mugshot at The Smoking Gun.)

Lost in Translation: The USA/Canada > “Australian” edition


This year, the closest I’ve been to snow (my love) is two weeks lounging around with the air conditioning turned down cold, watching The Winterlympics*… and the wearing of snowflake-shaped earrings.

But this time last year, I had just returned from a North American winter: a month stomping/skiing around Salt Lake City (Utah, USA) and Banff (Alberta, Canada) wearing three layers of everything, watching icicles form on my hair, and laughing at the peculiar linguistic variations between Australian English, Canadian English, and American English.

 

( The image quality is terrible, but this sign was outside the house we lived in for two weeks just outside Salt Lake City. It reads “No Solicitors or Deliverie’s”. I shrieked at this abomination every day.).

The following is the blog entry that I drafted upon my return, but quickly found was no longer relevant. UNTIL NOW.


Eh?

Eh? (Canada)

Innit? (UK)

N’est-ce pas? (French)

Huh? (Youth)

Whut? (Web)


For sure!

For sure! (Canada)

No worries! (Aus)

Of course! (Everywhere else)

Yup! (Youth)


Goobers

Chocolate-coated peanuts. I can’t believe I never knew this. I mean, I’ve watched American TV my entire life, AND I love chocolate-coated peanuts. But here, a ‘goober’ is, well, snot.

{ image via The Chocolate Cult }

 

 

Grāpple®

Grape-flavoured apple. “Looks like an apple, tastes like a grape”. SO WRONG, and yet so right.

Apparently invented because kids ought to eat apples, but prefer the taste of grapes. Or grape-flavoured candy in this case.

Which is ridiculous.

When I was a child, we didn’t get to make orange-flavoured bananas, just because we liked oranges better. Know what we did if we liked oranges? WE ATE ORANGES!

Anyway, the grāppling process involves some difficult-to-pin-down method of drenching the apples in grape flavouring at some point in the ‘production’ process.

And apparently, the “ā” means that it’s pronounced GRAPE-L, not “grapple” (as in to manhandle/tussle). Know what? That didn’t stop me from saying “grapple”. Nor was I sufficiently perturbed by the outright absurdity of the whole idea to just put down the Grāpple and walk away. I should have been, but I couldn’t resist. Why? Because I like apples (okay, just the way they are), and I also like grape-flavoured candy. {image via Coolest Gadgets }


Loonies & Twonies/Toonies

 

Canadian one dollar and two dollar coin (not children’s cartoon characters). No point talking about “one dollar coin” and “two dollar coin” in Canada: no-one will know what you’re talking about.

The one-dollar “loonie” is so called because it bears the image of a loonie bird. The two dollar coin is worth two loonies, and so, by logical extrapolation, is called a “twonie” (pronounced toonie).

But of course!

{image via Filibuster Cartoons }


Nonpareils


Sprinkles. Hundreds-and-thousands. What makes a
chocolate freckle freckly.

The fact that they’re “nonpareils” in Canada is obviously a remnant of French colonial (candy) domination.

I still don’t understand what being unequalled has to do with it (and I think Wikipedia’s explanation that they were unrivalled as cake decorations is a pretty poor effort on the etymology front).

{ Image via Flickriver }


Poutine

 

French fries covered with gravy and cheese curds.

Words can’t express how truly repulsive this looks/is, so I’ll hand over to Google Images.


{via the Calgary Poutine Crawl 2013 }

*barf*

And I’ll also leave it to Wikipedia to explain that etymologically, Poutine has a closer relation to “pudding” (ie: a whole lot of everything) than it does to the French expletive (though given Canada’s semi-Francophilia, the latter would also make some sense). Traditional pub grub, ski-field fuel, late-night booze food, school’s-out snack, etc. Like kebabs in Australia, only… more disgusting.


Puck Bunnies

Like groupies, but for ice hockey players instead of rock band members. [On Monday morning, I nearly FELL OFF MY CHAIR with excitement during the gold medal ice hockey match. And by chair, I mean perfectly stable and impossible-to-fall-off sofa. THAT IS HOW EXCITED I WAS. In the absence of ice hockey within a tangible geographic radius, this makes me a vicarious puck bunny (minus all the negative innuendo).]
{ image via Linda Mac }


Rumble strips

What my sister and I grew up calling “fart lines”. The noisy, corrugated part of the road that stops sleepy drivers from veering into oncoming traffic/into a snow drift when the road markings are invisible and/or one has been driving forever and ever and ever.

{ image via Local 4 Traffic }


Tuque

Beanie (Aus)

Knitted cap (UK)

 

 

A tuque is, for Aussies, a beanie. A brimless, knitted head covering. And yes, it shares a common etymological ancestor with the chef’s toque, though one might get a bit warm wearing a tuque in the kitchen.

Controversially pronounced “toock” [ike the "two" in "twonie" (see above). The pronunciation is only controversial because one can get 5 different opinions in 5 minutes, if you ask around].

{ in the above image of Jay and Silent Bob, Jay is wearing a tuque. Silent Bob is not. }


Turbinado Sugar

The word ‘turbinado’ is, in my mind, a portmanteau of turbine and tornado.

Cyclonic sugar? To me, this is the way sugar ‘normally’ comes. That is, in Australia, “raw sugar” is the norm, and you’d have to do actual research to find out much about the manufacturing process. But in the US and Canada, white sugar is “normal”, and so it’s deemed necessary to explain turbinado sugar in explicit detail, right there on the packet.

Turbinado sugar, also known as turbinated sugar, is made from sugar cane extract. It is produced by crushing freshly cut sugar cane; the juice obtained is evaporated by heat, then crystallized. The crystals are spun in a centrifuge, or turbine (thus the name), to remove excess moisture and molasses, resulting in the characteristic large, light brown crystals

Yes, if you check the footnotes in the above-quoted Wikipedia article, that description can be found on the packaging for Trader Joe’s Turbinado Sugar. Which is rather incongruous with the vast amount of packaged ‘food’ one can buy in North America without knowing exactly what’s going on inside the packaging.

And in true toonie… er, twonie spirit, that’s all, folks! At least until the next snowventure (which is so far in the hypothetical future I think I’d be better off just wearing my ski boots into the frozen foods aisle at the supermarket).


* My nominations for the greatest <alt=”most insane”> Olympic sports? Skeleton, Ski Cross, and Ice Hockey.

Don’t forget your [insert modern essential here]

.

This…

… is a brilliant idea. Before Leaving Check List vinyl wall decals by Hu2 Design.

If my mother has taught me anything (okay, she’s taught me a superfluity of things both useful and useless, but that’s beside the point) it’s that one ought never leave home without reciting the timeless mantra “Keys Wallet Phone. Keys Wallet Phone. Keys Wallet Phone.” … and actually checking to make sure you have all those items on your person, of course*.

Why, to avoid THIS awful feeling:

{ Public Poster Project by Egor Bashakov on Behance Network, via FFFFOUND! }

I abhor, loathe, and dread the niggling feeling that you’ve left something behind somewhere.  Even when it’s just a completely unjustified twinge at the back of your mind all day. But especially when it’s true!


*Things gets more complicated with music players and reading glasses of course. Though I have yet to encounter said technicality, because music lives in the eyePhone, thus killing two birds with one apple seed [it's worth your time clicking that last link, for technological comparison with this, for example]. And these young eyes are working perfectly well, thank heavens**.

**Although if they weren’t, I could always test them out on this awesome type-lovers’ Snellen Eye Chart).

*