language

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Speaking in Tongues

Every generation has its own slang terms that generally confuse the older generations that came before them. For instance, kids today are saying things like “bussin” when something is really good. Usually, it’s in reference to food, or so I’m told, but it could be anything. Or perhaps you’ve heard the word “bet” in response to someone asking if your plans are still on for later. This one wasn’t as confusing as a few I’ve heard. Some slang terms go full circle and come back around. Just like fashion. Young people think they’ve created something when really, it originated with their great-grandparents or even *gasp* their parents.

But what about words for things that aren’t necessarily considered slang… they’re more or less just outdated terms from the “old world?” I mean I’m sure pretty much everyone calls pants, pants now. My grandparents, however, generally referred to them as slacks. Do you ever remember your grandparents taking you to see the pictures? Of course, when I say pictures, I’m not referring to a photo album store but rather the movie theater or cinema. Speaking of which, it used to be just cinema. Now it’s the movie theater. As a kid, I remember wearing galoshes which are practically only referred to as rainboots today. At least to my knowledge. Do teens even go necking anymore? I doubt most of them even know what it means, but yeah, I’m sure they still probably do it.

While I’m on the topic of speaking the proverbial “old tongue,” I have a small story that highlights exactly what I’m talking about. Just the other day I was out shopping with my daughter, and I told a young cashier at the store that I loved her blouse. It was in fact quite lovely. Sheer black with a muted white design, buttoned collar.  As soon as the words left my mouth, I had that weird sensation that you get when you think someone is awkwardly staring at you for a reason you’re not completely aware of.  As I looked up from digging my wallet out of my needlessly cavernous purse, I found that I was right. This young woman had the most confused look on her face as she tried to make sense of what I had just said to her. After a few seconds she had given up and responded hesitantly with, “…my what?”

As I was trying to figure out what blouse might rhyme with that could cause offense if misheard (in an effort to know what type of apology needed to be offered), my daughter swooped in, and quickly explained to her that I was talking about her top. Apparently, my daughter explained later, no one says blouse anymore. The cashier’s face brightened and she cheerfully said, “thank you!” The crisis created by my attempt at a compliment was averted. In that moment, I felt old.  So old.

This whole situation reminded me of some previous writings where I discuss my ability to bewilder my kids with phrases that I’ve grown up with that they’ve never heard of. Here are a few of my favorites:

  • Piss or get off the pot.
  • It’s like trying to herd cats.
  • I’ve got no dog in this fight.
  • That dog won’t hunt.

But blouse?? Come on, that’s a common term, right? When did we stop saying blouse? Who knows, I was probably absent that day.

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Parental Guidance NOT Suggested

You’re at the grocery store picking up food for the week, or maybe taking a nice walk through the park. Then all of sudden, out of left field, you hear some rather, well, um, colorful language. How do you react, or do you even react at all? What do you think of people who use profanity in public? Are they bad people? Chances are if you ever happened to be shopping at the same store as me, when I find out my favorite cereal is sold out, you’d already know that I’m one of those people.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not like Samuel L. Jackson telling everyone how fed up I am with all those damned snakes on a plane, but I’ve been known to let some choice words slide a time or two.  I try my best to keep it toned down to “suitable for all ages” if there are kids around, or more importantly, my mother. However, as I’m quick to point out, I’m not perfect.

When you think about, people who curse certainly aren’t any less intelligent than someone who doesn’t. Not to mention, they’re arguably healthier and happier, or at least a lot better at blowing off steam.

So, then why is it that people are so concerned about profanity? I understand that there should be some societal consideration when out and about amongst people (ugh… people). If I heard a couple of F-bombs being dropped while a lot of others are in earshot, I would certainly wonder what the hell heck was going on.

Is it only because of how “it looks/sounds” or is there something more there?   It just seems like we have our values mixed up sometimes. We worry too much about the wrong things if you ask me. Everyone was so up in arms about the J-Lo and Shakira half time show during the Super Bowl, but these same people are fine with the seductive hamburger commercials that air during the game and the cheerleaders who were arguably wearing less than J-Lo or Shakira. Apparently, the FCC got complaints… people claimed their “eyes were molested” by the show and they had to shield their children’s eyes.

Even crazier than that is the fact that an Ohio pastor wants to sue the NFL for claiming that its ‘near pornographic’ tendencies put his soul in jeopardy of burning in eternal hellfire. Yeah, cause that’s the reason he’s going to hell. To some, this might seem a bit crazy, but if it doesn’t, try this out for size… the evangelist thinks a settlement of $867 trillion would be fair compensation for the NSFW halftime performance. Always follow the money, folks.

For those complaining to the FCC, do these same people cover their kids’ eyes during the commercials?  Or when the cheerleaders are onscreen? Do they complain about the Victoria’s Secret banners in the mall?  Or prime-time television shows? What about video games? Do these strict parents even know that their kids are probably playing Grand Theft Auto 5 on XBOX or PlayStation, and believe me, some of the stuff you see and hear on that game, whew!

Okay, sorry about that slight detour, let’s get back to people who dislike bad language in public. Do they get equally as frustrated or angry about the current rhetoric filling our daily news? Or do public personages get a pass?

For a lot of people, I guess it could come down to context. For example, two teenage friends walking down the street talking to each other, “hey man did you watch that ‘@#$%’ game last night?” “Yeah, my team was a ‘@#$%’ show, we really ‘@#$%’ sucked.”  I could see how one might find that a bit offensive, especially if there were young kids around. Though really, I doubt there’s anyone of any age who wants to hear that conversation, even me (hey, I’m nothing if not contradictory).

On the other hand, maybe someone fell down the steps coming out of the post office and let a few choice words fly in pain. Could that be overlooked due to the context? I know if I hit my shin by accident, or you know, if my cereal was out of stock, parents might want to cover their kid’s ears, because It’s gonna get pretty PG-13 pretty quick.

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How do I insult thee? Let me count the ways.

The older we get the less we understand the slang that these young kids use nowadays. Or, wait, is that just me? Hey, I’ll admit… I’m just not picking up what these young cats are laying down these days, you dig? What exactly is a “yeet” anyway?  It sounds like the newborn offspring of a species of goat that only lives in the mountainous regions somewhere deep in the Andean Mountains. The insults we grew up with were more scathing. There was nothing more insulting than walking down the street and hearing someone yell out, “hey, nerd!” Brutal, I know.

To be truly creative, though, we need to go back a bit further. We need to take it back to a point in history where insults were truly scornful, and yes, inspiring. I’m talking Shakespeare. Now, Shakespeare knew how to curse, but he also knew how to throw insults with the best of them. Oh, who am I kidding, he WAS the best of them. I mean, the man made up new words when those readily at hand would not do, for Pete’s sake.

So, without further ado, here are my favorite Shakespearean insults, in no particular order. Trust me, folks, we need to bring these gems back into circulation.

Thou art as fat as butter. (Henry IV)

If you really want to get your point across to someone, you need to compare them to something with high fat content and not something fat by default like the world or their mother.

More of your conversation would infect my brain. (Coriolanus)

Why settle for calling someone stupid when you can go one better and describe exactly how their words are affecting you? Instead of saying, I’m all the more stupid for having heard this… try telling them that their word salad is literally infecting your brain. It would devalue their argument so much that they’ll have no choice but to submit to your Shakespearean wit. You could tell them that your insult was from Shakespeare, but they probably don’t even know who J.K. Rowling is, let alone Shakespeare.

I’ll beat thee, but I would infect my hands. (Timon of Athens)

We’ve all met those annoying people we would love to whack over the head if it would get them to stop blathering. Continuing Shakespeare’s odd fascination with infections, you can tell these folks that they are simply too loathsome for the figurative (of course, figurative) beating they so rightly deserve. Despite their seemingly good health, merely touching them would put you in a state of near death due to their gangrenous personality. I know, right!?  Awesome insult!

I am sick when I do look on thee (Midsummer Night’s Dream)

I’m starting to think Shakespeare had a thing with the bubonic plague. Apparently, you could infect him with sound, touch, and now… simply looking at someone makes him sick. But hey, he does have a way with words.  This would be the final topping on the cake for someone with a lovely outer skin but an ugly disposition. Bonus points if you mix this with the phrase about butter.

You Banbury cheese! (Merry Wives of Windsor)

Not a lot of people will know that this insult was originally meant for skinny people. You see, Banbury cheese was very thin. Stupidly thin. And back in Shakespeare’s time it was more prominent to be plump, so calling someone skinny was just plain insulting. However, nowadays this insult goes beyond looks, as every good insult should do.  Cheese is smelly, cheese can be ridiculously obnoxious, cheese can look lovely on the outside and be rancid on the inside, cheese can make you want to vomit. Just take your pick. Viewing it a different way, cheese is supposed to be thick and rich and decadent, so the fact that Banbury cheese is ludicrously thin with more rind than actual cheese is rather stupid. Hence the person you’re calling a Banbury cheese is a stupid-head (of cheese). Plus, I just like the way it sounds.

You whoreson cullionly barber-monger! (King Lear)

I’m not exactly sure where Shakespeare was going with this one as it’s contained in a scene where people were throwing words all over the place. However, I assure you that using this is the equivalent of firing a bullet from your mouth and it would absolutely destroy whoever it is aimed at. Just walk into your local dive-bar and use this phrase at random, then watch everyone freeze, impressed with your mighty wit.

Away, you three-inch fool! (The Taming Of The Shrew)

Thinking back on my English Lit days, I believe that Shakespeare used this as an insult to someone’s height, but let’s be real about using it today, you’re going to insult another area of someone’s life that they really, really care about when it comes to length. Instead of directly insulting some guy’s junk with a “why, you have a small wiener sir,” drive home the point by dropping this line that gives a very specific length. I can’t think of a better response to those crude ‘negging’ pick-up lines too many of us women endure every time we go out.

So, there you have it. Some grade-A, well-honed – if not contemporary – put-downs for your insult arsenal. One for every day of the week. Now, get out there and make me proud!

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What’s in a Word?

Do you ever lay in bed at night, trying to sleep, and suddenly, your mind decides to reach into its dark, hidden stash of almost-forgotten memories to slap you in the face with the most random shit?  I have to believe this happens to other people (it’s what keeps me sane, so don’t pop that balloon, for all our sake).

And by the way, what the hell is up with these nighttime reveries anyway??  It’s your one time to relax and not think. You’re laying there, feeling the hardships of the day seeping out of your overburdened consciousness, and you’re grateful for the quiet … glad to be away from the noise of it all.  Suddenly, your brain is like, NO! You will NOT sleep … you will instead fixate on that irritating commercial jingle you heard in third grade as it plays over and over in your head. Or how about that stupid thing you did at work five years ago? You know what I’m talking about. In the conference room in front of everyone too. That was fun, huh? Or, why does a round pizza come in a square box? Answer that one, smart guy.  Why is it that if someone yells “duck” they are helping you, but if they yell “chicken” they are mocking you? Have they ever even MET a chicken? Those things will tear you up. Tear. You. Up.  Or the old tried and true, are there birds who are afraid of heights? Poor birds.

So. Yeah.

Anyway, I bring all of this up to let you in on the crap question-of-the-night my brain decided to throw at me last night. Perhaps you’ll relate. Perhaps you’ll have an answer. Perhaps you will be kind enough to soothingly touch my arm (figuratively speaking, of course, since we are on the internet and as far as I know, we can’t actually reach out and touch someone … yet) and say, encouragingly, why, no, Wendy, you are not crazy. Not crazy at all. It will all be all right.

Is the plural of a computer mouse, mouse(s) or mice?  The crux of the problem, the answer to which I unwillingly contemplated for hours, is this: grammatically, saying computer mouses just isn’t right and the grammar-fanatic in me fights back against such misuse. But … saying computer mice … well, in a word, drives me flipping insane. It sounds neither right nor logical … just stupid.

Me at Best Buy: “Excuse me clearly overworked sales clerk, but do you have any computer mice?”  I feel as though such a request would be met with disdain if not outright confusion. Oh, of course they would know what I meant, but wonder in awe at my attempt at being “hip.” (On a side note, do we still say hip?)

It took me longer than it should have (4 hours 32 minutes) to figure out an answer to this late-night grammar puzzle. But solve it, I did. Aren’t you proud?

Simply put, I will never ever be in a situation where I have to use the plural of computer mouses  mice  mouses  mice  mouses … aaarrrgghhh!

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Southern Drawl

Although she has known me, literally, all her life, apparently I still surprise and amuse my daughter with my speech patterns. Oh, not the cursing, that she just takes in stride. But some of the figures of speech I come out with are simply too much for her to deal with, I guess. Some of this is caused by the fact that I’m old and she’s well…not old, and so many things I say are dated and unknown to her. A few of the phrases I spit out, the non-curse word ones that is, no doubt come from being raised by Appalachian born and bred parents. So I can see why my language choices might be slightly confusing to my daughter who has had a completely different childhood.

It does make for interesting conversation at times. Especially during our road trips, when I shout something particularly wrathful, I feel, at the driver in front of me, yet the effect on the smart-ass sitting in the passenger seat is one of great amusement. Or we’ll be having a perfectly civil conversation and without thinking, I reveal yet another unheard-of gem and the disbelieving eye-rolling begins. Because, you see, it’s not that she thinks I’ve lost my mind, but rather, that I’m an idiot who doesn’t have a keen grasp of my native language.  And really, who can blame her? If I didn’t know better, I’d think some of these phrases are made up as well.

Then of course, out comes the long-winded explanation to prove that no, I haven’t suddenly gone daft, only to be told “that makes absolutely no sense” with that lovely tone of disdain only a teenager can properly produce, to which I respond – with utmost maturity mind you – yeah, well, you don’t know everything and then proceed to stick out my tongue.

Oh yes, good times.

 

While writing this, I could not for the life of me recall all of the phrases I’ve used that have tickled my daughter to no end. However, I did start a list with the few I could remember and will update it on occasion as more spring to mind or mouth.

Piss or get off the pot.

You don’t have the sense God gave a stump.

It’s like trying to herd cats.

I’ve got no dog in this fight.

Lie like a dog – also worded as – lie like a rug.

That dog won’t hunt.

Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.

Dressing up mutton and calling it lamb.

Stop acting ugly.

If I had my druthers.

Rode hard and put up wet.

Hair of the dog.

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Shakespearean Swearing

I’m no professor of linguistics, but I do understand that language evolves over time. Pick up a copy of Canterbury Tales or Satyricon and try to tell me you understand every phrase in there. What I didn’t think too much about until recently is that this constant updating, re-purposing, and hijacking of words and phrases applies to cursing, too.

An article I read recently went into great detail about the role that profanity played in the Elizabethan Era. How it was aligned closely with divinity (the word “God” being used in many of the harsher swears of the time) and of course social status.

It’s a very informative read and I got a lot out of it, but the part that really stuck out to me was the very first paragraph which reads:

“In Henry IV, Part One, Shakespeare’s Hotspur turns on his prissy wife: “Heart! You swear like a comfit-maker’s wife. ‘Not you in good sooth!’ and ‘as true as I live!’” Instead Hotspur demanded a good mouth-filling oath. Something like his own “By God’s heart” was more suited to a lady of rank.”

Shakespeare, you know how to write a good story, I’ll give you that. And you’re phenomenal at coming up with new words. But, you’re one sexist bastard. I am more than aware that misogyny isn’t a new trend that just recently popped up, yet that passage by Shakespeare had me shaking my damn head. Leave it to a medieval patriarch to think that his wife needs to improve the language she uses and then offer up suggestions. He’s literally trying to put words in her mouth!

And I’ll admit, I had to look up just what the hell a comfit-maker was because while it sounded familiar, I couldn’t put my finger on it. Turns out that’s just a fancy way of saying candy maker. Back in Shakespeare’s times comfit-makers were the people who made little confections out of dried fruits and nuts that would then be used in desserts… nonpareils, sugar plums, candied almonds, hundreds and thousands (aka sprinkles or jimmies) and the like.

To be honest, being a comfit-maker’s wife doesn’t sound like a bad gig. Sure, if I were living back in the 1600s and was hitched to one of them, I probably wouldn’t be too well off financially. Or socially for that matter. I mean, how much can a bag of candied almonds bring in really? But still, I’d have all the candy I could eat. More importantly, I’d be able to curse however I wanted. Except if it got me sent to the stockades. You gotta watch out for the stockades.

 

stockades

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Southern Grammar

While West Virginia isn’t technically “The South”—not at all in the same league as say Mississippi or Alabama—and while I wasn’t raised there, only spent summers in the state visiting grandparents, I somehow managed to absorb some local colloquialisms that my daughter constantly makes fun of me for because they sound so ridiculously Southern. I blame my parents (who are from West Virginia) completely for imprinting them on me. Just so you know that right up front.

Recently I was mad at one of my cats — again. This is not a rare occurrence. If any of you own cats, you’re bound to grit your teeth at something they’ve done on a nearly daily basis. Such is the nature of our fuzzy felines and I do love them even during these trying moments. I think.  Anyway, I was pissed at something one of my cats did and was on the verge of inflicting physical violence. Of course, I can’t swing my cat by the tail or anything like that so I decided to vent my anger through a steady stream of obscenities. One of the things I said in my blinding tirade was, “She makes me so mad I could just SPIT.” I must’ve said it with more vehemence than I realized and put an extra emphasis on the word ‘spit’ because my daughter practically broke down in hysterics. She said I sounded like a southern Moriarty. If any of you watch the excellent new Sherlock series on BBC you’d know just how ridiculous of a concept that is.

Mr. Bean

A couple days ago I had the unfortunate displeasure of conversing with an idiot rep from my abysmal satellite internet provider Wildblue. It was one of these conversations that just kept going round and round without making any headway in resolving my issue. Sometimes I think those calls are psychological experiments on patience and I’m the test subject because no one can be that bad at their job, can they? Exasperated, I hung up the phone and said (I’m sure in a frustrated tone), “Well, she doesn’t have the sense God gave a stump.” I guess my Southern accent (which, again, I shouldn’t even have since I’m not from the South) must have come out in my rage because there was my good ol’ daughter yet again in a fit of laughter at my odd choice of words. “Thanks, I’ll be here all week,” I sneered back at her.

I’m glad she can find my livid outbursts so amusing. One of her all-time favorite Wendy-isms is when I say “Piss or get off the pot” to confused drivers in front of me trying to decide if they want to turn, park, or keep on going. That one puts her in tears as she tries to control her laughter. These are all phrases that she apparently never hears anyone else say, which I find hard to believe. And I guarantee if she spent some time in my parents’ old stomping ground, she’d find that my creative use of words is a lot more common. Unfortunately she hasn’t had the pleasure of West Virginia summers.   So for now, I’m happy to entertain my ever-so-Yankee daughter with my anger induced stand-up routine, much to her delight.

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Language Barriers

It’s about time I turn this blog back to another aspect of parenting that I’ve thought a lot about. And, as we’ve already seen in the past, it is quite possible that what I believe to be acceptable might inch me ever closer to the “bad” parent label in the eyes of some.   So…what am I talking about?

Cursing. Cussing. Swearing. Profanities. Obscenities. Bad words. No-nos.  It goes by different names depending on who you are, but you get the gist of it. 

I’ll be upfront and say that, as a parent, I don’t tend to get upset when my kids say something R-rated. Sure, if they turn into George Carlin at the dinner table I’ll tell them that it’s time to dial it down, but only due to the assault on my ears and subsequent headache it gives me.  I can tell when they’re cursing just for the hell heck of it and when that happens it just comes off as tacky. That’s what I really object to, I suppose. Language should be used with beauty at all times and sometimes the right F-bomb really gets the point across. But machine gun spraying the word around for no reason is disrespectful to verbiage itself.  As if I’m one to talk (I can see my family rolling their eyes now)….but we won’t get into that.

I don’t mind them cursing (and for the sake of reminding everyone, my daughter is 14 and my son 21, we’re not talking toddlers here), because, for starters, they’re intelligent kids. I know this. It’s not like they can’t think of a better word or are only capable of lifting expressions from the last Seth Rogen film they saw. No, they have an amazing vocabulary and excellent communication skills — so if they use a curse word, I assume it’s because that’s the best way to represent the feelings they’re trying to express. Fair enough.

Secondly, they’re smart enough to know to calm their tongues way down when around positions of authority (oh wait, isn’t that what a parent is supposed to be…we’ll get back to that another day) and in inappropriate places. My daughter would never give an oral book report on Pride and Prejudice and litter the essay with profanities. Nor would my son ever make liberal use of the word shit in front of his grandparents. They both know where and when…and in front of me, it’s fine. Why?

That brings us to our third point and one that might be most up to debate. To me, curse words are just that…words. The only reason they have power is because people decided they mean something. But they don’t mean much to me. I refuse to recognize the profound implications of a one syllable word.  I understand that not everyone shares these beliefs and I respect that.  I certainly am not spilling offensive remarks all over town unaware of how others perceive the words.  

Showing respect for the “audience” to whom one is speaking is paramount.  I’m just saying that when hit with a cuss word, there really is no effect.  I don’t vibrate with any profound emotion because again…it’s just a word.

Now, that being said, and being of the contradictory nature that I am, there are certain words that are indeed off-limits in my house, even with a free-wheeling parent such as myself.  This isn’t so much because they are curse words as it is because they are derogatory and hateful words.  Indeed, there are some non-curse words that are off-limits in my house for the same reason.

Let’s admit it, sometimes the right curse word in the right situation is the best. Quite often they are the most accurate way to convey a particular emotion (just ask Lewis Black); and why should we limit ourselves by not using what is at our disposal?  The trick to all of it (of course there’s a trick, there’s always a trick) is to know, understand, and respect your audience.  It’s important to have respect for oneself as well.  

As I tell my kids, don’t come off looking stupid just because you think it’s cool to use a curse word when you know very well that a better, more appropriate, word would do — have more respect for yourself. Respect is a great deal more important than freedom of speech.  At least in my house…which, contrary to outward appearances, has never been much of a democracy to begin with.

no cursing