Applied Anthropogenic Linguistics

Having grown up in a family of 3 men and now living with 1-1/2, I thought myself fairly sophisticated in the ways of male conversation. Albeit, Dave from his vast experience of working on construction sites and his various other occupations (musicians being only one step up on the evolutionary ladder from construction workers) has exponentially expanded my masculine vocabulary and its attendant idiosyncrasies. However, one of Dave's major tutors of the male vernacular (contributing such flowery and descriptive imagery as the "bearded clam," and "tighter than a nun's c**t") has been his long-time friend CB, who is a tile setter by trade. One of CB’s many talents is his penchant for the imaginative turn of phrase, particularly when he can integrate something of a bawdy nature. This leads me to a little on-the-job exchange that CB shared with Dave.

Evidently, CB was finishing up a job for some religious observant Jews, I guess just short of Hasidic, and they'd gotten to the point of replacing the washing machine. As CB is advising them to the proper placement of the washing machine, he directs them to, "Just move it a c**t’s hair," never giving a thought as to whom he was speaking. His customers, never blinking an eye, amazingly manage to infer from his highly technical terminology the correct amount of movement needed to maneuver the appliance into its proper position. (I'm sure thinking in the back of their minds that they were never hiring this nutcracker again.) CB’s helper had a little more sense of awareness and had excused himself to the next room to smother his laughter, later pointing out to CB his little faux pas, of which CB had been completely oblivious.

As I've said, I've been exposed to many a masculine phrase, especially ones referring to the female nether regions and their many and varied uses, but I must say, this was a new one to me.

Now, I think it is universally understood that the term c**t, in any context, is, to put it lightly, politically incorrect, and the idea that one would use it offhandedly in the context of directing a customer as to the moving of an appliance is truly remarkable--such is the character of CB.

And, of course, the question that remains unanswered (for that matter, heretofore unasked) is what's the difference between moving something a hair and moving it a c**t’s hair? Is the breadth of that particular hair a mite smaller or larger than the average hair from one's head? I guess we'll know when Hell is colder than a witch's t*t, eh?

Dog Shark

Our dog is a voracious eater of books. Yes, eater, not reader. She’s smart, but not that smart. If given half the chance, she could digest a sizeable library in one sitting. Books for some odd reason seem to be her next favorite chewing toy, second only to electrical wires (especially those connected to expensive equipment, like computers). I have spent well over $100 in resupplying the county library with Poe’s many literary victims. Since she is well over a year old now, and presumably, that is when dogs have all their adult teeth, I have concluded that she must be part shark, replacing her teeth every few months for a new, razor sharp set that can lacerate a book to papery threads in seconds flat.

She’s also sneaky. She is forbidden to be on the couch. Whenever she hears me approaching the living room, by the time I might actually catch her red-pawed, all I see is obpeequious Poe primly sitting on the floor, innocently licking her butt or some other distasteful spot, curiously overly preoccupied in her grooming--all of this taking place suspiciously close to the couch. The idea of forbidding her to occupy the couch is presumably because of dog hair. However, the cats keep our furniture blanketed in layers of fur, so I’m not sure what the point is.

I guess I could argue that we want to keep the texture consistent.