Up the jammie
This is depressingamundo
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/health/womens-genital-self-esteem-affects-sex-health/article1306039/
The next question has to be how many blokes enjoy getting the prostate examined? And whether this has any link to suffering penis envy?
Gals/fellas/world give over bemoaning the jammie. It’s dandy.
Treasure! Aaaaarg
How useful, how very very useful. A step towards solving the dilemma slightly of not having a library card to access university libraries and always having to lumber out and sit there to access material. The public library is excellent on many fronts, but there’s often obscure stuff they cannot house and the wait to access it on interlibrary loan can be inconvenient. Or if you live half way up a mountain and your donkey refuses to budge and bring you into town.
Now if only there could be a way around the cost prohibitive accessing the databases of articles…from the front room or corner cafe.
Then there is the additional bonus of discourse outside the institutional walls.
Aaaaaagh muy excellent. http://a.aaaarg.org/
More lingo
Fresh from the jaws of the cutting-edge linguistic Puffin. Youff vernacular.
To have the piss.
x’s parents have the piss at Nerf guns
I’d heard take the piss, being pissed, take a piss, I’d added the West Coast: So pissed at something, but this new one to have the piss completes the pissible lexicon nicely. Especially the idea of containment given it’s liquid state.
Tripods Terror
Terrorising courtesy of 1970’s elementary education.
How to scare a tellyless ten year old witless! We had to watch an episode of this show The Tripods based on John Christopher’s novels each week and it explains why I have a resting pulse of 99 today.
The titles and music alone sent me into a frenzy
Then the actual programme sweet Jesus! Terrifying.
Many a day I walked about with my hand at the ready to cover my head in the event of a capping attack. Whatever happened to jolly olde Paddington and Seasame Street, big yellow bird, feathery friend … rather than stomping metal blighters trying to cap the brains outta ya.
Cuairt an Phápa 1979
Can’t escape him even in mid-life. Whoever pressed this to vinyl provided me with many a demented endurance.
http://www.rte.ie/rnag/cuairtanphapa.html
Popedom improves when incomprehensible. I used to be amazed he didn’t crack his teeth, all that kissing the ground. He certainly did not have a malocclusion of either mandible.
Chat with a chat.
C’est formidable!
Urban Elephant
Ah the Nellie. We go back someways. Pink, pink, pink. Half dazed clubbers emerging into the sunrise. A place everyone’s an opinion on. http://www.lrb.co.uk/blog/2009/09/23/rosemary-hill/white-elephant/
Urban anthro in song
A while ago, back in the day, when I was trying to find social anthropology about Irish immigrants in urban settings in the recent past (ie 60’s) I found nada. Song was suggested to me, and I can’t recall pursuing it so heartily.
Today I came across Christy Moore’s Cricklewood and was struck by how this could be the closest thing we have to a form of urban anthropology.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyNci5Xnd3c Christy Moore Paddy on the road
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oqBEO4I-kk Christy Moore Don’t forget your shovel
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hqAipVohbM Christy Moore Cricklewood (it’s really only the verse about getting a sub)
Ma – son lingo and van muzak
Children exhist at the coal face of language and bring it’s evolution home to the grubby kitchen table. Some of my favourites include the verb: to pone which evolves into ponnage and poner and poned.
It’s meaning: to claim victory at the tether ball pole. Evolved from to own. I owned you= I beat you. I poned him = I beat him. Poner! Ponnage! General victory battle cry.
In gratitude for these auditory treats I have found some suitable mammy – son van music.
I recall the abyss of enduring Terry Wogan of Radio 2 extraction as a child. Auditory equiv of a very severe toothache.
