I Got Shit To Do

Few expressions are capable of meaning one thing as well as its opposite. Such is the case with “I got shit to do”. The difference in meaning can be conveyed through emphasis. Saying “I got shit to do” means

I have many things to do

Whereas “I got shit to do”, spoken with an upward inflection on “do” means

I don’t have anything to do at all

My theory is that the latter meaning, which is far far more colloquial, is actually an abbreviated version of “I ain’t got shit to do”.

This is an idiomatic paradox. Using it is tantamount to language anarchy. That kind of chaos and destruction gives me a big boner.

Vag

Why didn’t I think of this?

More importantly, why did nobody think of this sooner? Surely this abridged version of “vagina” has been around for years, but somehow I’ve only been hearing it in the last year or two. Where has it been all my life?

“Vag” is a slightly derogatory term for the vagina, used as slang. But the reason I love it so much is because it is typically used by women to refer to their own parts as crudely as possible. Just like “vagina” it is completely lacking in sexual undertones, but unlike “vagina” it is not sterile and medical. It is bizarre and filthy. One does not have sex with a vag, or examine a vag, one crams objects in a vag. A vag is not clean and ladylike, it is filthy and oozing with stinking putrid fluids. And that is why I love this word. It deliberately calls attention to the negative aspects of vaginas, sort of how the word “junk” makes light of a man’s parts.

It even sounds horrible. Like it’s going to eat you. And all that bundled up in three little letters.

Respect the Vag.

Vagina

I’m a man who loves vagina. But I also love the WORD “vagina”. Not because it’s beautiful, but because it’s so horribly ugly. It’s cumbersome and unbalanced. And best of all, it completely takes all the fun out of the organ that is the vagina. It turns it into a medical thing, not a sensitive entry-point for fun (and yes, the birth canal).

In theory, this should not be a good thing. But remember my entry on “coitus“? I find it fascinating that such a powerful and meaningful organ can be reduced to its basic anatomical essence simply by weighing it down with an unpleasant word. And this is important because we need to be able to talk about vagina without it being sexual.

Also, did you know that “vagina” has three acceptable plural forms? Vaginas, vaginae, and vagina.

Feckless

Dictionary.com gives two definitions of “feckless”:

  1. ineffective; incompetent; futile: feckless attempts to repair the plumbing.
  2. having no sense of responsibility; indifferent; lazy.

I’m more interested in the second definition, because I like CALLING someone feckless, especially to their face. It’s an insult! It’s like calling someone a child, except using a word a feckless person wouldn’t understand, so it’s twice as insulting.

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, feckless is from 16th-century Scottish, I presume because the Scots were all calling each other this. If you’ve ever met a Scot, you’d know why. (I kid of course. How could you call a nation feckless that’s given us penicillin, logarithms, AND the US Navy? …according to Wikipedia.)

Think carefully. You know a lot of feckless people, don’t you?

Festooned

A festoon is a festive ornament. So to be “festooned” means to be decorated in festive ornaments. A festoon used to be a specific kind of ornament, in which flowers, foliage, and fruit were fastened to and suspended by long ribbons. It has now come to mean any type of celebratory ornamentation.

Considering how our calendar year is full of St. Patrick’s days, Mardi Gras’es, Independence Days, Christmases, pride days, gay pride parades, drag shows — not to mention all the days we just feel like dressing up — and so on, you’d think this word would be used more. And the waiters at TGI Friday’s are festooned with pride buttons all year-round.

Be careful who you say it to, though. There is a lot of festoon prejudice out there.

Supernumerary

If I met the man who invented this word, I would give him a kiss and then suck his balls dry. And I’m not even remotely gay. If the inventor is actually a woman things could get messy and we might even spawn a whole new strain of venereal disease.

Every single time I see the word “supernumerary” it makes me smile. It is six megasyllables of perfection with that lovely echoed “oo” sound. All it means is “too many” or “more than normal” or just “extra”. But it sounds so much cooler than that! And there is no supernumerary amount of times you can use the word “supernumerary”. I’m going to start prescribing intentionally-low numbers to everything just so I can say “supernumerary” when the outcome produces more than expected.

After buying new floor mats for my car: “Alright! The cashier gave me a supernumerary dollar!”

During coitus: “You have some supernumerary hairs on your butt.”

During a sonogram: “Hmmm, looks like you have a supernumerary child in there. I’ll get my tongs.”

At a nerd bar: “It’s Supernumerary Tuesday.”

Apparently supernumerary was originally a noun, actually describing a person. See the Wikipedia entry for explanation.

Flex

I love the word “flex” because I repurposed it.

For years I have been plagued with a problem: I have several good friends who used to be lovers. But when referring to them, it always felt wrong to call them “ex-girlfriends”. The implication of the term is that this is a person with whom you have little contact. What I needed was a word that could be defined as

former lover, present friend

And so “flex” was born. I have written it into the Urban Dictionary (go here to vote it up in the ranks).

I have also defined “flex” with a few prefixes:

  • ex-flex: A former lover who then became a friend, but who is presently neither.
  • sex-flex: A former lover, present friend, who one occasionally has sex with.
  • best flex: One’s favorite former lover, present friend.
  • boyflex: Former male lover, present male friend.
  • girlflex: Former female lover, present female friend.

Aubergine

I hate “aubergine” when it’s used to describe an eggplant. But I love it when it’s used to describe a color! Vegetables, to me, are not royal. They are humble, and should be spoken of with humble words, such as eggplant. Peasants eat eggplants. And we are all peasants.

But color, on the other hand, is very special, and defining specific colors is so challenging. It’s a shame, in fact, that all the basic colors have such basic names. “Red” is an abomination.

The more obscure the color, though, the more interesting its name becomes. Aubergine the color is purple, but darker, with a dash of brown or gray. Doesn’t such a rare mixture deserve a lovely name?

Coterie

The French know how to party, or possibly how to enslave people. If you ever wanted solid evidence look at the following words, all from French or Old French:

  • escort
  • entourage
  • attendants
  • retinue
  • cortege

A coterie is a “group of people who associates with one frequently”, and is my favorite, although “cortege” nearly meets it for Most Pompous Word Ever. All these words have something in common, in that if you have any of these things, you’re probably a badass. In fact, I’ve ordered the list above from least to most-badass. If you show up to a party with an escort, that’s cool. If you show up with an entourage, that’s cooler, but only badass aristocrats and kings show up with attendants, retinues, corteges, and coteries.

On a side note, did you know there’s an adjectival form of retinue? “Retinued”, describing a person with a body of attendants. I wish I didn’t know that, because now I realize that I am not adequately retinued.

Chyme

“Chyme” is cool in two directions. First is its spelling and pronunciation. “Chyme” is pronounced like “kime”. The hard “K” sound of “ch” is fucking cool. To pronounce that “ch” like “K” makes it sound serious. This is a word not to be fucked with. Same goes for “cholera” and “chable char”. The hard “ch” is the new “X” in “xtreme“. Anything you use it in becomes more legitimate.

Second is the use of a “Y” as a vowel. As I’ve mentioned before, we love the Y. As children we always heard that sometimes Y is a vowel, but we couldn’t think of many words that used Y as a vowel, except lame ones like “my” or “shy”. I suppose teachers didn’t want to tell us about “chyme” because it’s so super gross (see below).

Third is the silent “E” on the end. Like the hard sounding “ch”, a silent E at the end gives its word an air of legitimacy. When a word ends with a silent E, you know the person isn’t joking around. “Old” is old, but “olde” is REALLY FACKIN’ OLD.

Finally, and most importantly, the meaning of “chyme”. My favorite definition is from the American Heritage Dictionary:

The thick semifluid mass of partly digested food that is passed from the stomach to the duodenum.

There’s also this, from Saunders Comprehensive Veterinary Dictionary:

The semifluid, homogeneous, creamy or gruel-like material produced by action of the gastric juice on ingested food and discharged through the pylorus into the duodenum.

EW! For whatever reason, partially-digested food is so much grosser than fully-digested food. We can handle a little poo, but chyme is beyond gross. It’s SEMI-LIQUID. And that’s not even an object. It’s not even a thing. It’s just creamy, milky CHYME. There is nothing grosser in the universe.

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