The ugliest word in the English language
You know the ugliest word in the English language? Some think it’s moist. It’s NOT. The ugliest word in the English language is PUCE.
Puce. Why not PUKE? Well, might not sell at Sherwin Williams.
Dictonary.com defines puce as being “ of a dark or brownish purple” in color.
Ok. I get that. I never had a Puce crayon. Brown, purple, THOSE ARE COLORS. Not PUCE.
How about using language that describes the thing you’re talking about?
You know, adjectives and nouns.
“Honey, let’s paint the baby’s room a matte puce.”
Sounds a little gross and possibly nasty, too.
“Honey, let’s paint the nursery eggplant.”
And she says, “Oh, it’s so organic! I love it!”
So I’m watching the news and I hear this low pitched hum. Hoping it’s not a small aircraft poised to crash land on my roof, I get up and look around.
It’s springtime in the northern hemisphere, and that means the door gets left open on occasion. Spiders crawl upstairs, get into our beds when we are sleeping and bite us while we apparently and thankfully in such a deep sleep we can’t feel it’s little feet and fangs as it leaves its mark.
Then there are the garden variety. You know, ants, centipedes, beetles, bees, millipedes, lady bugs, boxelder bugs that managed to live through the winter-
All put to a sudden relatively painless death with the smack of a fly swatter or the cat eating them.
Not so this time.
Have you seen the movie “The Fly?”
Jeff Goldblum has nothing on this creature.
I look over by the window to see the droning coming from a species definitely of the insect variety, but bigger than a small bird.
The cat looks at it with her usual feline enthusiasm, but hesitates. Normally, the appearance of an insect is all fun and games with a side of bug guts.
Her eyes enlarge in disbelief. Then, she rolls over and goes back to the way she spends most of the day-sleeping. Preferably on the remote control or my phone.
I am so grossed out by superfly and intrigued at the same time. I vacillate between ending its life or letting it live.
On top of this, I have another bug to deal with, my stomach bug.
I’m pretty wiped out from wiping, if you follow.
I decide to stay parked in my lazy chair and watch the Orange Cheeto on CNN.
Superfly, you will live to poo on the drapes, lay eggs and die an otherwise natural death.
Thank God they aren’t puce drapes. That would be a tragedy.
Have you ever been talking to a friend on the phone? A friend who lives in the same city as you but apparently lives in a separate sector of the jet stream. Your friend proudly announces “Hey, it’s raining!”
And you say, “No, it’s partly sunny.”
Your friend protests exclaiming “NO IT’S NOT IT’S RAINING!”
Keep in mind that you both are around six years old. The world is a much smaller place at that age.
BOOM!...RUMBLE RUMBLE, PLUNK PLUNK PLUNK ...
“Never mind, it’s raining!”
Your mom says, “Get off the phone before you get killed!”
I grew up in the day of landlines and cords, folks.
Today you might get cancer but back then it was electrocution.
Here are some everyday things I find interesting. They serve a small but important purpose-usually.
So here is my list:
Those little hooks on plastic hangers
Lint, particularly of the belly button variety.
Caps on the end of shoelaces
Watching the test patterns on TV
And then there is my seasonal favorite, which serves no purpose apart from creating an awkward atmosphere.
You say, “What the hell are foot farts?”
I’m glad you asked. After all, Summer is right around the corner.
I don’t know about you, but I wear sandals in the summer.
I like the kind that have the sling in the back so I don’t fall down and rupture my spleen in the process. I’m clumsier than a mule with two left feet when it comes to coordination, so no high heels, either.
Sometimes, I wear Crocs as well. You know, the plastic shoes that look like swiss cheese on top.
It gets humid and my bare feet begin to put out moisture. When coming in contact with the insole This causes a sound that is quite awkward if not a little embarrassing.
I call it a foot fart.
Some people, guys usually, get pit farts.
I played volleyball with a guy who had on a daego top.
Everytime he volleyed the ball it sounded like Steve Martin in the movie “Roxanne” where he makes the tennis ball sounds.
You can imagine the strength it took me not to laugh my ass off.
Hey, at least he wasn’t wearing PUCE and there wasn’t a big, hulking greenish fly droning around.
I mourn the days of my youth.
Composed by Allison M. Kramer on May 23, 2017