Words for Things You Never Knew Had Names

When I was little, I asked my mom, “Why does everything have a name?” I chose to float this question while we were battling our way through the mall for some last-minute Christmas shopping, so she was harried and distracted while I was eight years old and basking in the glory of my philosophical wonderings. She explained in exasperation, “Because otherwise we’d have to refer to everything as ‘it’ or ‘that thing,’ and nobody would have any idea what anyone was talking about.” So there was my answer, and poof! I suddenly achieved a whole new level of cosmic understanding. Everything has a name… even the following:

Word: armsaye
Meaning: It’s the armhole in your shirt, because "armhole" was just too obvious.

Word: borborygmus
Meaning: This is when your stomach rumbles, but I’m going to go ahead and say what we’re all really thinking—it’s when your stomach gives an explosive roar like the MGM lion and everyone in class looks up from their test to stare at you with judgment in their eyes and fear in their hearts.

Word: dysania
Meaning: Not wanting to get out of bed in the morning. I will freely admit that I exist in a constant state of dysania. It's closely related to slugabed, which means a person who remains in bed long after the usual time of rising. (I live in a constant state of that also.)

Word: petrichor
Meaning: The way it smells after it rains. Or a telepathic password. (Doctor Who, anyone?)

Word: mondegreen
Meaning: Misheard lyrics. For example, how many people here thought “all of the other reindeer” was “Olive the other reindeer” and remained convinced that there was a total asshat reindeer named Olive running amok who used to laugh at Rudolph, call him names, and absolutely forbid him from joining any reindeer games?

Word: obdormition
Meaning: When your foot falls asleep, and we all know what comes next—you begin dancing around frantically and slamming your foot into solid objects to get rid of that pins-and-needles feeling, to the general alarm of everyone else in the room.

Word: spraints
Meaning: This refers to “otter dung." Apparently the term “otter dung” didn't do it justice.

Word: ampersand
Meaning: It’s the name given to the little “&” symbol. It actually used to be part of the alphabet but was disgracefully kicked out of the club just like Pluto.

Word(s): semantic satiation
Meaning: When you say a word so many times it loses its meaning. For instance, go ahead and say “umbrella” eighty or ninety times in a row and behold the existential crisis that’s most assuredly coming your way.

Word: zedonk
Meaning: The offspring between a donkey and a zebra, which is weird, because I’ve been referring to that as a donkbra.

Word: tittle
Meaning: It’s the dot over a lowercase i or j. This was recently a Jeopardy! question, so for everyone who says it’s a useless word you’ll never need to know, well, I totally impressed my mom with that one in Double Jeopardy, so put that in your juice box and suck it! (By "totally" I mean "marginally," and by "impressed" I mean "frightened." I bellowed it quite loudly.)

Word: collywobbles
Meaning: It’s when you have that butterflies-having-a-mosh-pit-in-your-stomach feeling.

Word: interrobang
Meaning: Personally I think this sounds like the world’s most intense boomerang, but it’s actually just the double use of punctuation marks (?!). It's often used to convey shock, anger, and incredulity all rolled into one, like, "What are doing with that really intense boomerang?!"

Word: natiform
Meaning: Buttock-shaped. You're welcome.

9 Reasons Why Autumn Kicks BUTT

Every year, autumn arrives in a glorious blaze of crunchy leaves and apple cider, and it kicks every other season's keister. You know it, I know it. We all know it, and here's why:

1. The clothes get prettier. Summer is a time for shorts, tank tops, and sweat. When autumn rolls around, it's all about layers, kickass boots, scarves, oversized sweaters, and long knit beanies.

2. It starts getting cold. Autumn is wonderfully transitional; it's no longer so hot that you're slowly roasting in a sweaty haze, but it's not yet cold enough to start swearing unceasingly as you shovel a snow-path from your front door to the car. Mornings are brisk and the air feels like cinnamon and pea coats.

3. FALL TV SHOWS! Finally! New and returning shows alike are suddenly popping up all over the place, triggering that weird mix of ecstasy and stress as you try to juggle them all. As a rule, your favorite shows will all fall under the same time slot on the same night, forcing you to make crucial life decisions.

4. The food. The FOOD. Caramel apples, cider, pumpkin spice lattes, hot chocolate, pumpkin pies... and then Thanksgiving rolls around and we get a veritable smorgasbord of carb-filled deliciousness. Turkey and mashed potatoes cranberry sauce and stuffing... I'm already drooling, which has prompted the concern and disgust of all the other people in this coffee shop.

5. Insects start to die. I don't know what it is about bugs that makes me giddy at the thought of their inevitable doom, but it's probably because they're gross and I hate them.

6. The scenery is gorgeous. The Harvest Moon comes bursting forth. Leaves change color in an awesome palette of leafy splendor, then fall from the trees and crunch underfoot.

7. Friday night lights! Even if you're not into football, there's something to be said for all the school spirit and mass consumption of brats and burgers at tailgate parties. There's just something magical about unifying a stadium full of people as they channel all their willpower into getting that guy with the ball over to that side of the field, so everyone can justify the deranged noises of celebration that follow.

8. Halloween! Candy corn! Haunted houses! Costumes! If nothing else, all the candy goes on sale the next day, making things so much easier for all us closeted candy hoarders. (What? I like to have a year-round stash.)

9. Suddenly you can do FALL stuff, like hayrides, pumpkin carving, apple picking, and corn mazes. Speaking of which, I once asked a farmer how often he checked to make sure no one was lost in his corn maze. He gazed pensively at the hundreds of acres of labyrinthine corn, stroked his beard, and said, "You know, it has been a while... but the screaming always dies down eventually." And if that doesn't get you in the autumn mood, I don't know what will
.

My Enraging Makeup Discovery

My goat has been got. I’m actually shaking with rage, confusion, nausea, and joy.

Let me explain:

All summer I’ve been experiencing the unholiest of breakouts. I stopped using makeup completely and babied my skin until it was more or less normal. One of the first products I started using again was my favorite face powder, Bare Minerals Mineral Veil. Since my skin was still finicky and sensitive I was being extra careful about reading the packaging and figuring out what ingredients made their way into the final product.

That’s how I found this:

Zea Mays (Corn) Starch, Corn Starch Modified, Zinc Stearate, Magnesium Stearate. (+/-): Mica, Titanium Dioxide (Ci 77891), Iron Oxides (Ci 77491, Ci 77492, Ci 77499).

That is the ingredients list for a twenty dollar tin of powder.

Cornstarch.

My ridiculously overpriced face powder is made of the same stuff I put into some pudding yesterday.

I assumed that one of the other ingredients would be the magical thing that helped my skin and locked my makeup in place. I tested the plain cornstarch against the original powder.

My face looked exactly the same.

Turns out, there's no reason to buy wildly marked up face powder; just buy cornstarch, put it in an old powder or mint container, and apply as usual. It’s completely translucent and equally effective.

The only difference between the supermarket version and the department store one is the price:

$1.50 for 16 ounces of cornstarch vs. $20 for 0.3 ounces or powder.

26 cents vs. 20 dollars.

I call that winning.