This morning, someone must have secretly replaced my regular coffee with dark, sparkling I Don’t Give a Rat’s Ass Crystals. I do not know what has put me in such a lazy, apathetic
mood but, man, am I pissy. Not pissy in an “I will cut you” way. Just sort of “can’t get
going.” More like it’s a good thing I don’t have cable because I would totally sit in front of the telly and watch Lifetime movies
and home-renovation shows.
Today, I’ve been thinking about words. I am trying to embrace
adjectives. I have a fear of adjectives. I don’t want to overdescribe
something. I like to let my imagination take over. This is also why, in
a slightly unrelated note, I will not watch the new Where the Wild
Things Are movie. I don’t want Spike Jonze ruining my imagination
of what Max’s imaginings were.
There are, however, some words I want to send to the word graveyard.
Let’s begin:
She’s a great FRUGALISTA! She now shops at Banana Republic instead
of Jil Sander.
I’m late on the bandwagon with this, but I want to ban any made-up
word ending in “-ista”. Fashionista, Recessionista, Frugalista,
Barrista — any of them. My friend commented that this made me a
“Haterista,” a term I was fine with and then later abandoned on
principle.
We had a great STAYCATION at home!
I’ve been trying to get “staycation” banned for about a year now.
Much in the same way “sweet treats” skeeves me out, “staycation” makes
me want to punch someone. “Vacation” means that one does not work or go
to school. It does not necessarily mean one must pack up the kids and
visit a six-foot-tall rodent in Florida. One may still vacation at
home. One may still visit parts of one’s city on said vacation. It does
not need a stupid name.
Check out our ROBUST PLATFORM.
No, no, I will not. By the power of Grayskull, if one more software
company uses the term “robust,” I’m chucking the computer altogether
and going back to a calculator and walkie-talkies. Here’s the thing: If
I’m spending money on your software, I expect it to be robust. I expect
it to withstand pressure, virus, and Russian spammers. Telling me that
it is robust is like telling me that my raincoat is water-repellant.
Stop it. If coffee commercials could give up “robust,” so can you,
Platform Guy.
How can we INCENTIVIZE our workers?
I am so happy to be out of corporate life, if for no other reason
than I don’t have to hear corporate buzzwords. Decentralization,
cross-functional, transparency, blue-sky thinking, change management,
value-added (oooh, that one especially makes me want to vomit all over
the robust platform I got during an incentivization), and please,
PLEASE, could we stop with the “thinking outside the box”? THERE IS NO
BOX. This was kind of fun like, oh, 20 years ago, but get over it.
She’s a real COUGAR! She’s dating a guy 20 years younger!
Why, why, why must all references to women be cat-based? Hmmm? Why
is there no male-equivalent to this? You know what we call a man who
dates a much younger woman? Mick Jagger, that’s what. “Oooh, he’s such
a Mick Jagger” just doesn’t have the same tenor of scorn to it that
“cougar” does. I mean, one of the worst things you can call a man is a
bastard, and that’s not even anything he can control. So I guess when
men date younger women there’s nothing predatory about it? HA! I crack
myself up. Dude, having a crush on Andy Samburg does not make me a
cougar. Having a tail and eating elk I’ve stalked? That would make me a
cougar.
And speaking of cougars …
I love JUICY COUTURE!
This isn’t so much an overused phrase as it is a reflection of the
fact that I hate Juicy Couture clothing. Ladies — especially you
ladies my age: Please stop covering your ass in overpriced bath towels.
The fact that you’ve got “Juicy” written on your butt is an automatic
sign that it’s not, okay? Nothing says you’re crusty more than wearing
too-small terry warm-up suits designed by the wife of an ’80s hair-band
bassist. This has really bothered me for a while. You don’t look cute.
Your kids don’t look cute wearing “Juicy Toddler” or “Juicy Teen”
clothing. They look ridiculous. I don’t think you’d let them go around
in shirts proclaiming they’re “Fresh Jailbait,” would you? Maybe you
would.
Susan Wilson blogs at KittensFartingRainbows, where a version of this column first appeared.
