My dad's nickname for me is Hamchuck, which is interesting since I loathe ham (and most other pork products). I offer up this blog of ponderings, recollections, contemplations, and things that amuse me, rarely featuring cured meat products, but often starring little plastic dinosaurs wearing outfits. And dogs.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Peggies-eww!
So my brother has a language pretty much all his own. He calls lintballs / fuzzballs "peggies." (Nope, don't know why.)
I remember walking by his room once, watching him pull fuzzballs out of the carpet muttering under his breath, "Goddamn peggies!" (He's OCD- certified & medicated- so peggies earn a special vehemence from him.)
It's really funny to see how we've all come to use his vernacular without a second thought.
I brought a bagful of castoff clothes home to my mom and after I got back to Ithaca at the end of the weekend, she sent me a text message: "Love the green sweater but does it ever stop making peggies?"
What amuses me the most is when I inadvertantly use the term in front of people who aren't familiar with my nutjob family.
I was out for a drink with a friend of mine and said something about how embarrassing it was that I was out in public with "all these peggies on my cardigan."
"Peggies?" she questioned.
I pulled one off and showed it to her. "Peggies."
"Oh. Huh."
A few weeks later I complimented her on the top she was wearing. "Yeah, it's okay. But it makes peggies like mad."
I keep waiting to hear it used on a TV show.
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I'm for it. Peggies from here on out.
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