Vocabulary with T: Unlikely Event

There's an old joke about Congress which compares lawmaking to the production of sausage and argues of both that it's best not to see either being made.  As the nation prepares for the self-induced wound that is the fiscal cliff, it seems apt to review the notion.  Congress has landed us in this situation and its their responsibility to get us out.  That they seem determined to do it in a fashion that will leave the national electorate both exhausted and disgusted is no surprise to me.

I could add my voice to the chorus of Congressional critics blaming the Republicans for this mess.  I could wring my hands and wonder why it is that Grover Norquist and the Tea Party Republicans feel that compromise, a principle at the very core of our Constitution and government, is suddenly a dirty word and unthinkable concept.

But human relations are messy at best and these days politics are a mirror of the worst of human relations, so I am not surprised at the painful ordeal Congress has constructed for the nation.  And since crying about it won't change things, I am inclined to find some ways to laugh instead.

Here, T has a phrase that's useful.  Time and time again, I have heard her say it of an unlikely event.   When she says it, the image is always quite clear in my mind.  And these days, as Congress haltingly considers doing the job they were elected to complete, it's a pretty useful notion.  And so I turn to T's phrase and suggest that the specter of Republican members of Congress cooperating and compromising to get their work done will be like seeing a "leprechaun riding a unicorn."

Vocab with T: Pig on Ice

This month's vocabulary lesson isn't so much a word as it is an idea.  And, as the snow and ice season begins to embrace us, it's a very fitting one: pig on ice.

I first heard T use it to describe a wonky grocery cart.  Pushing a cart with wheels that wouldn't operate properly, she described it as a "pig on ice."  I was amused and recognized it for a very useful description.  These days, most any unwieldy item is likely to get accused of being a pig on ice.  

Cars on yesterday's slushy roads?  Pig on ice.  The lumber cart at your local home improvement store?  Pig on ice.  My plastic wheelbarrow, laden with garden waste?  That's a pig on ice.

It's a handout description for all the annoys you and refuses to move forward.  That being the case, I think we have a new name for the Republicans in Congress: With John Boehner and Mitch McConnell at the helm, those folks are like pigs on ice.

Vocabulary with T: Chill in the Air edition

Those of you who have been forced to spend time in my company know that I like cool temperatures.  This is especially true come the winter, when I wish to wear sweaters without sweating and so insist on setting the furnace to a notably less-than-balmy 66.

T is not quite so cold-blooded and come the cool season can frequently be found sporting long underwear under her clothing.  And what kind of long underwear fabric does she like best?  Why, that would be polycrapylene, a space-age fiber made of things that don't occur organically.

I first heard her refer to something as made out of polycrapylene in reference to some water-resistant camping materials.  Since then, polycrapylene is virtually everywhere.  It's in your long johns.  It's what your rain coat and tent are made of.  It's likely been put to work in that water bottle you carry around.

And if you spend a lot of time at Sassafras House, it will keep you toasty warm.  Prepare accordingly.

Vocabulary with T: Fuck-Knuckle

I suspect that I don't have to write a single thing to explain what the phrase fuck-knuckle means.  Because, come on, fuck-knuckle?  How can that word mean anything other than screwed up beyond belief?   Just so we're clear, fuck knuckle is what happens when something messy or confusing is made worse by human error.

My bin of hair ties are a mess in general.  Then I paw through them and they are fuck-knuckled.

Shoelaces on a kid's shoes are often screwed up.  When JT gets involved, they are fuck-knuckled.

Republican politics have been scary and confusing for a while.  But since the GOP settled on Romney as their nominee, Mittens and his campaign staff have taken the party to a fuck-knuckled state.

Sure, you could describe these events as twisted.  Mixed-up.  Chaotic.  Screwed up.  But why bother when fuck-knuckle is there, perfectly willing to serve, and able to describe things far more accurately?

Vocab with T: Useful edition

This month's vocabulary with T isn't a single word, it's a phrase.  It's a fitting choice for this month because I first heard it last August when we were coping with last August's post-Hurricane clean-up.  The loss of electricity had rendered my refrigerators useless (it had actually killed the one sitting in 4 inches of water in the basement) and T helped me to clean them out.  That job mostly entailed throwing out food.  Thankfully, we took on the job before the food had really commenced to spoil.  Still, it was an unpleasant task and T's sense of humor made it more manageable.

At one point, she removed the lazy susan I keep on the top shelf of the kitchen fridge.  Typically, the lazy susan has relish, pickles, mustard, mayo, and ketchup sitting on its spinning shelf.  T removed it and declared that it was the "wheel of condiments."  She said it just like the announcer on "Wheel of Fortune."  Never has ketchup and relish seemed so grand.

I laughed.  A lot. Under the circumstances, that alone was quite handy.  The name stuck, of course.  T's wry sense of humor and her way with words make everything better.  And that's happy. 

Vocabulary with T: Befouled

It wouldn't feel right to end the month without a little vocabulary from T to make July complete.  This month's word is one of the first I added to my vocab with T list and it's grown to be a favorite of mine: befouled.

Strictly speaking, T didn't invent the word befouled.  It's in her deployment of befouled that she has painted it with a glory befouled couldn't have otherwise dreamt of.    Messes in T's world aren't average, they are befouled.  Bathrooms in public places are often declared befouled (and let's be honest, they are often befouled).  My cats befoul things.  Her much-adored sugar glider,  Zip, has been accused of befouling his cage.  The boy's playroom?  Befouled.

One thing is certain….when befouled is deployed there can be little confusion about how T feels about the mess at hand.   Sure, befouled is a tad dramatic.  But it gets the point across, doesn't it?

Vocabulary with T: Crazytown

Since January, I've written a monthly feature of T's words, some of which are made up. Others are words she uses in her own charming way.  This month's word is part dictionary, part made-up, and 100% useful.  The word: crazytown.

Crazytown is either a destination or a location.  As in, you've crossed the line of reason and are now in crazytown.  You got there by doing or saying something ridiculous and irrational.  Perhaps some examples will help?

Everything uttered by Republican Eric Cantor, House Majority Whip, is coo-coo le crazy, thus we can be confident that he represents crazytown in Congress.  The current GOP mantra that Obama's immigration executive order will keep real immigration reform from happening is also an utterance straight out of downtown crazytown.  Those clowns weren't willing to talk immigration before Obama took action and since he took action, they remain unwilling.  Maybe because they live in crazytown?  Like everything else, I have no idea what the Supreme Court will say about healthcare tomorrow.  But I do know that Scalia, Alito, and Thomas live on a cul-de-sac in crazytown.

I trust you get the picture.

Vocabulary with T: Ramshackle

Strictly speaking, this month's vocabulary with T features a word that is not unique to her.  Ramshackle was an already established dictionary word-in-good-standing when T got hold of it.  So it's not the word itself we're interested in here.  It's T's use of the word.

When something has been jimmy-jangled together in a confusing fashion, it's ramshackle.  When an idea is about to be executed in a half-assed manner, that's ramshackle.  Anything falling apart or otherwise is in disrepair is ramshackle.  If someone just did something stupid, that's a ramshackle action.

I think that what she likes about ramshackle is that it sounds like what it is: rickety and dilapidated.  What I like about ramshackle is the drawn-out, ramshackle way T says it, declaring the facts as she sees 'em, ma'am.

Vocab with T: Sharky

It was pretty easy to settle on sharky as this month's vocabulary lesson, if only because the current political landscape so easily lends itself to use of the word.  Sharky is just a re-organization of that old trope that "lawyers are sharks" and when you are a shark, you act sharky.  Just so we're clear, being clever alone is not being sharky.  But being a clever asshole, well, that makes you sharky.

Do you need some examples?

Newt Gingrich's every utterance is sharky.  Karl Rove's American Crossroads's produced adverts attacking Barack Obama for being too cool?  Sharky.  And we all have that one colleague whose every act is manipulative and self-serving….they are sharky.

It's useful to have a way to characterize these people that doesn't involve the volumes of profanity I usually use as reference point for the sharky among us.  This is a family blog after all.

Vocabulary with T: Shimmy-Shake

So far, the Vocabulary with T series has explained jimmy-jangled and coo-coo le crazy.  This month's new vocabulary word is one that proves useful when you are in need of movement, especially movement that you welcome. 

Need to walk across the room?  You should shimmy-shake on over there.  Plan to drive a few miles down the road?  You can shimmy shake on down the interstate.  If you're headed up north this afternoon to wish your sweetie a Happy Birthday, then you're going to shimmy shake on over to her home.  Near as I can tell, if you are engaged in a shimmy-shake, you are having a good time. 

For example, no one shimmy-shakes on over to the oral surgeon.  No one shimmy-shakes downstairs to do the laundry.   In fact, characterizing movement to those activities as a shimmy-shake might even be coo-coo le crazy.

Vocab with T: Coo-Coo le Crazy

Last month, in my effort to enrich our national vocabulary, I reported on T's  use of the word jimmy-jangled.  Fittingly, this month's vocabulary lesson is a word that has been jimmy-jangled together: coo-coo le crazy.  Plenty of folks have behavior that is a little odd.  Those folks may be coo-coo or they may be crazy.  But when behavior or words go over-the-top nuts, then let's face it: we need a better description for what's just occurred.  Behold coo-coo le crazy.  When you sound or act insane but you don't know it, then you're coo-coo le crazy.  To hear T explain it, coo-coo le crazy is a 15 on the 10 point scale of nuts. 

We've all been a little nuts on occasion.  And then we've come back across to the sanity side of the table.  We recover.  But there is no recovery from coo-coo le crazy.  And yes, I'm looking at you, Rick Santorum.

Vocab with T: Jimmy Jangled

When T and I were first getting to know one another, she asked me if I liked to make up words.  In fact, I do, and I offered up a few words of my own invention; words I use to describe my view of the world.  As it turns out, I am a mere rookie at this game.  T is a master of the genre.  And there's no reason I should be the only beneficiary of her language largesse.  So I proudly offer up a new monthly feature for the blog: Vocabulary with T.  These words won't appear on your SAT test, but they should.

January's word is actually a phrase: jimmy-jangled.  Near as I can tell, jimmy-jangled is both a verb and an adjective….context matters in the use of jimmy-jangled.  If something has been fixed or repaired slightly out of skew from the ordinary, it's been jimmy-jangled.  This can be good (it's fixed-ish and it seems to be working) or this can be bad (it's fixed-ish, and that ain't gonna last or is otherwise inconvenient).  Either way, it's been jimmy-jangled.  One can also engage in jimmy-jangling, thus making it a verb.  For example, my trash can lid has been attached to my trash can and that act was jimmy jangling.   The trash can itself has now been jimmy jangled.  Really, jimmy jangling is both a useful skill and an effective description.  That's a word that can go the distance.  Unless I miss my mark, it's been jimmy-jangled.