(Tempted to go and edit my previous post so everything after it looks wierd…)
I haven’t laughed that hard all day, that’s brilliant.
It’s been tickling at my brain for so long, and finally popped itself loose: Peter Stormare muttering, “I need unguent,” during the kidnapping scene in Fargo. With the snow blanketing everything outside, I guess I know what I’m up to tonight.
The Cohen brothers have a Dickensian way with words.
(As an aside, I believe the first time I used the word “Dickensian” in a real sentence, was to describe the name of the lovely and marvelous
Alabaster Crippens. @Alexava, thank you.)
Concatenation. (A series of interconnected events. “Interconnected” is fun, too.)
It does approach sesquipedalian loquaciousness, I admit, but it is still a very useful word. And it’s so bouncy! It’s like riding a bike over rough ground.
Edit: I should have said, rough terrain. “Terrain” is a hoot!
Edit edit: What would happen if we had a recursive concatenation? Would we then be in the movie Pi or something?
Recursion is weird, I know I’ve brought it up before (). When you combine it with concatenation, I believe you’re just asking for trouble.
I should just stop.
Either a digital cashew or an ambivalent piece of footwear.
Or the sound I make when failing to hold in a sneeze.
It’s the sound you make when you have to forcibly eject a cashew out of your nose?
(I needed an excuse to add “eject.”)
(PS: also to sneak in “forcibly.” It’s a bit of a big fat-guy jerk who could get you either cashewed or ejected. I don’t really like it too much, but the “f” glides over the “orss” sound until it collides with the slightly staccato “ib,” “li,” ~ "whee."
And when I type things like this, I begin to realize I should look into other hobbies.)
You hang on to that until flu season’s over, 'kay?
If one has a large collection of footwear, one could be expected to have, as with other collections, favorites. And by choosing those favorites, consequently avoid others.
“ARE THESE YOUR SHOES?”
“Goodness no. Those are but some of my eshews.”
“We’ll at the next break in reading your period fiction come and tidy up this closet, smartass.”
for all you juicy word appreciators: there’s this university professor from the university of colorado on youtube who’s a specialist in old norse and nordic studies. I’m highly intrigued by his pronunciation of old norse, his knowledge (and his looks) and his delivery. Jackson Crawford
Yeah, he’s a cutie. I don’t know if I could ever roll my consonants like that, which somehow makes it worse.
I’m still giggling about forcibly ejecting a cashew out of your nose. How did it get in there, @penguin_lx ? (This is now retconning that Pengu had a cashew up her nose at some point in her life )
I’m submitting two, for your appreciation: renegade and enumeration.
…and remuneration, right back at ya.
I give you Kerfuffle (mic drop)
Steady now, let’s not turn this into a brouhaha.
There seems to be a fracas on the horizon
I really like horizon. (And kerfuffle and brouhaha and fracas). But horizon is kind of special to me, not only for its meaning, or my personal relationship with the word (which I won’t go into, it’s a long story).
The thing is (for this topic), it’s so soft and round, but it’s zizzy in the middle. It’s like a dessert that has a hidden bit of spicy that’s just slightly carbonated.
Edit: This just seems right, now. A Gaggle.