Some friends and I took a field trip last night to the new fork in the road in Pasadena. It was smaller than I had expected from the LA Times photo, but still quite impressive.
According to some dream interpreters, to dream of being stabbed with a fork indicates that you are too picky with the ideas or suggestions presented to you.
Thanks in advance fork commenting.
My friend Elana brought my attention this weekend to the art of Baragami, the practice of formal toast arranging. Much like the hairy sausage “craze,” I suspect that Baragami is a completely made-up phenomenon with no history other than the one imagined on the Baragami Home Page. I have to say “suspect” rather than “know for a fact,” however, because of the claim on said webpage that Baragami originated in Wales. And there’s something about Baragami
that does seem a bit Welsh, isn’t there? Something about the wonderful batshit craziness, I suppose. I mean that with the utmost respect, Welsh readers. I’m sure you know that.
Anyway, this is rather a long introduction to today’s word:
“Etaoin shrdlu” comes from an old typesetting practice of marking an error-filled line for deletion by completing the line with nonsense letters. Sometimes the line would not be deleted, and the phrase “etaoin shrdlu” (from the first two columns in a linotype keyboard) made its way into print a number of times. These days etaoin shrdlu just means nonsense. And like Baragami, there is something decidedly Welsh-seeming about it. God bless you, Wales. The world would be a much duller place without you.
Woooooooooo! It’s Hallowe’ene’en, everybody. I don’t know about you, but Hallowe’ene’en puts me in the mood for scary creatures, and words about scary creatures. Actually, today’s words aren’t really about scary creatures, but they sure do sound like they are.
and
Mulligrubs and fantods? I hope you locked the doors, Benny. Now, I don’t know where I got the idea that mulligrubs were monsters rather than a depressed state, but I do know that the fantod confusion came from Edward Gorey, noted chronicler of the humorously macabre. A mysterious taxidermied creature featured in his story “The Unstrung Harp” is identified as a fantod, and I always just assumed that he had just coined the term to describe the creature, even when I read another story by another writer that frequently referenced “the howling fantods.”
The Estate of Edward Gorey happens to be quite protective of its copyrights, so I’m not going to be able to provide you with Edward Gorey’s depiction of a fantod without fear of receiving a takedown notice. Being pretty well-versed in intellectual property law, however, I am quite sure that I can provide you with a drawing that I myself made of Edward Gorey’s depiction of a fantod:
Benny, are you sure you locked the doors? I don’t want any fantods creeping in. Wait. What? Fantods aren’t creatures either? When you have a case of the fantods it simply means that you’re in an agitated and restless state? Well, what do you know? I still hope you locked the doors, Benny.
I need to warn my wonderful boyfriend Benny that he’s not going to like today’s word.
But have no fear, Benny! I’m not talking about that head-in head-out shaking-about children’s game you so rightfully loathe. I’m talking about an older definition of hokey-pokey: inferior ice cream.
There is some debate about whether “hokey-pokey” comes from some bastardization of what Italian ice cream sellers would yell on the street to advertise that their treat cost a very little amount of money, or whether it descended from the phrase “hocus-pocus” as it relates to a feeling of deception.
Now that I think about it, Benny, I’m pretty sure you don’t like this kind of hokey-pokey either. I will do my best to help you avoid it. That’s what I’m all about.
I used to think that I was going to have the words “Peer Pressure” engraved on my tombstone, but I think I may have found a phrase that suits me even better:
“Esprit de l’escalier” is strictly translated into English as “spirit of the staircase,” but it refers to that feeling when you think of the perfect witty response to something… about five hours or minutes or days too late.
Of course, I intend to be cremated so I’m not sure how this tombstone epitaph thing is going to work.
I really hate when people use the word “flavor” to describe a variety of something rather than an actual taste. I don’t know why it bothers me so much; I guess there’s just something very twee and unnecessary about it. “What flavor of iPhone did you get?” “This shirt comes in two flavors.” Bleh. You can’t say “kind” or “color” anymore? What is wrong with you? Do you also call a lesson a “teach”?
I have two versions of today’s cartoon – the classic and the avant garde. Only one version features beheadings. Neither version comes in any flavors.
You probably know this word already; it’s not that rare a word or anything. I mainly like this word because I always forget its definition. I always think it means “vomit.” It doesn’t.
I’ve been reading a book by this writer who likes putting silly songs in his stories, so I’ve been inspired to write my own little song about this word so I can remember that I always get its definition wrong. It goes like this:
Yawp. A yawp is merely a sharp yell or a shriek or a noisy, foolish utterance. So even though it doesn’t mean “vomit,” it is not recommended that you yawp in the workplace.
Hello! Good afternoon! I hope your breakfast was
Actually, if you had one, I’m quite sure your breakfast couldn’t have been anything but jentacular. According to Alan Taylor at Luciferous Logolepsy, jentacular means “pertaining to breakfast.” And now it’s time to rustle up some lunch. If anybody knows a word that means “pertaining to lunch,” let me know.
There was a lot of glittery lipstick on the lip of my wine glass at dinner tonight. Not mine. The wildfires are following us.
My spam filter caught a comment for this site recently that was kind of spam but kind of not spam. This author was asking me if I wanted to trade links, because he had a book coming out about interesting words in the English language, and I suppose he wrote to me because I sometimes focus on interesting words in the English language. It was kind of spam because he addressed me as “sir” in the salutation and provided me some press release language, but I couldn’t muster up any anger about being spammed for this guy’s benefit because I’ve heard it’s a really difficult thing to get people interested in blogs or books about the English language. Also, he was really polite. But I didn’t just want to be a shill for some guy I didn’t even know.
So anyway; I was on the fence. I decided to check out his blog (see how quickly I’ve started using that terrible word, after I was so opposed to it?), and on his blog I came across a very fine word:
Crambazzled. It’s an adjective for someone who has aged prematurely due to sickness or hard living. I looked this up and other people say it’s a real word too. I guess this book might have something to it. Godspeed, Adam; I’m rooting for your success. But I’m not a sir.
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