Mamacita says: Today was the first day of class, and I hope it was an omen because it was lovely. The main campus class was small and attentive; the local campus class was large and attentive, and the day itself was just, well, nice. Not the Shakespearian “nice,” but “nice” in its modern context. Thankfully!
We talked, in fact, about how words evolve. We discussed how all words have a point of origin – a history – just as people do, and that just as some people have a somewhat more interesting history than others, so it is with words, as well.
It’s one of my favorite lessons, this evolution of word meanings. At the end of the class, few students can listen to me deliberately saying things like “He was nice, but strolling gaily down the skanky strata, he saw forthwith a trio of giglots, strumpets, and confederate companions, whereupon he felt a fragment of his old self” without a giggle or three.
Included in the discussion were hints and allegations that the varying degrees of naughtiness concerning body parts have evolved over the years, as well. The palm of the hand and the neck used to be forbidden to see or touch, and the elbow was considered an erogenous zone; however, the breasts were often entirely exposed. Perhaps it’s my innate immaturity showing, but I find this history fascinating, and also hilarious. Akin to it is, of course, the achingly ancient joke about the Catholic priest who showed the ladies’ aid a film of his missionary parish, which included a scene of tribal women walking into a mass, stark naked. The priest expected an outcry of some sort from his audience – a bevy of dowdy, sanctimonious older women (beldams, most likely)- but what he got wasn’t quite what he expected. The dowdiest and most self-righteous of the group stood up, trembling with indignation, and said, in a most condemning tone, “Father, don’t tell me you let those women walk into the sanctuary WITHOUT HATS!!!”
Note to self: The narcoleptic student is going to be a bit of a challenge. Until he brings documentation, I’m going to keep waking him up. I wish he’d keep his hands off his huge quat, though; it’s almost riggish.
It was such a good day that I forgot about my computer dying until I got home and tried to use it. Safe Mode is better than nothing, but much of what I need to do, can’t be done on Safe Mode. I earn most of my living with my computer, and I can’t be without it. I just can’t.
I’m therefore in the market for a new computer. Suggestions much appreciated. Item: I have no money, and I hate Vista. Sigh.
Also? The new Diet Coke machine in the lobby of the college is the coolest thing I’ve seen in ages. This gives you more insight into my life than you no doubt wished to have, but seriously, this machine is straight out of Rube Goldberg. <—instant fogie alarm vocabulary word
So, there you have my day: skanks, niceties, narcolepsy, hints and allegations, erogenous zones, nudity, gaity, condemnation, beldams, poverty, intricacy, giglots, strumpets, confederates, quats, and fogie alarms.
And how was your day? I do hope it wasn’t too nice, bardily speaking.