I’ve decided that I have a love/hate relationship with words. To start with, sometimes my brain can’t think fast enough for me to spit out the exact word that I need to use at the right moment. It sits right on the tip of my tongue, teasing me with its bad-ass attitude. On the other hand, I love to make up new words. I don’t use them often enough as they quickly slip from my mind.
The other day I started listing the words that I really don’t like and some that I do. My cousin and aunty were also very quick to contribute their two cents worth. It seems I’m not the only one obsessed with wordidgery.
Words That I Really Don’t Like:
– Hunk. Sounds like chunk, but it’s supposed to describe someone that’s hot as with muscles.
– Hubby. It’s husband, not hubby. It sounds like a cubby hole to stash husbands. “Where is your husband?” “He’s just in the hubby.”
– Grotty. This grossest of gross words.
– Grundies. This is sick. It makes clean undies sound like they’ve been festering unwashed and under the bed for 6 weeks.
– Testy. ‘I’m getting testy’ is far too close to testicles for me. Combining a statement for anger and male genitalia is really not going to work in my books.
– Tonguing. I have nothing to write, I simply just shook my head.
– Booze hag. A term for a chick who likes to drink. Reminds me of something that has been retrieved from a gutter. Not nice.
– Babes (for one person). It’s one person, not several. So you either have ‘babe’, or a stash of ‘babes’.
– Adding ‘azza’ to the end of someone’s name. It’s too Australian for its own good.
And just so I don’t sound completely cynical and wordist, here are some words that are awesome (they don’t need an explanation, they just are):
And have you ever noticed that quirky is a quirky word, awkward is an awkward word, and cute is a cute word? And the word ‘lisp’ is just plain mean yet comical, to describe a condition that renders that term unpronounceable. Was it made to prove whether you had a lisp or not?
I also really hate words when someone kicks my ass at Scrabble. Nomes the Scrabble Queen would play by her own rules. She would place down on the board words that didn’t look like words. If I contested the obscure array of letters and I was right, that’d be her turn skipped. If I was wrong, my turn would be foregone. She would put down a sneaky word with her poker face, wondering whether it was actually a word or not. Turns out, I was always wrong.
Sometimes I am almost to the point of having words, with words. But I won’t. They have their pros and cons, and have allowed me to write this blog. So I am going to end this on a good note, happy that I was able to use their services once again.