Blow out the candles, turn off the lights and lock up when you’re done because humanity as we know it is OVER.
A coupla weeks ago, I reported on the fact that those sluts at Miriam-Webster now include a definition of literally that means non-literal, essentially deeming that literally no longer means literal. My outrage was abundant and warranted. Sigh, if I had only known what that b*tch, The Oxford Dictionary had in store for us all.
Last night those prissy queens in England announced that they have added the words “twerking” and “selfie,” to a tome that has been around since 1884.
Thanks to every trashy cousin at various weddings you’ve been to, you already probably know what twerking is. But just to be clear, here’s the OFFICIAL DEFINITION, according to the OXFORD F*CKING DICTIONARY:
“To dance to popular music in a sexually provocative manner involving thrusting hip movements and a low, squatting stance.”
How kind of them to elucidate us on such a ribald term.
And let’s not forget “selfie.”
“A photograph one has taken of oneself, typically using a smartphone or webcam and uploaded to a social media website.”
Maybe it’s because I’m a crusty old whore who automatically starts twerking after 3 beers, but selfie is the bigger abomination as far as I’m concerned.
Selfie sounds like a term Taylor Swift came up with to fit into a song’s rhyming scheme. Say it a few times and you’d swear it sprung from Tay-Tay’s trademark Lisa Frank stationary, complete with a heart dotting the i.
True Story: While passing a showering Lover Fo’ Life this morning, I opened the shower curtain and announced that I “knew what I was writing about today.” As he dried himself off, L4L defended the new words adding that a “dictionary has to change with the times to stay relevant.”
I simply rolled my eyes, gave a “GURL PLEASE,” and told him he could just, “twerk the Hell away from me,” because he was wrong. What followed can only be described as the saddest attempt at twerking the world has ever seen. Rather than jiggle what his mama gave him, L4L began clenching his wet buttcheeks in a series of clamps and cramps.
“That’s not twerking! That’s butt clenching!”
“Oh, I’m sorry. How about THIS!?”
L4L then jangled the jingle bells while his buns looked like he was trying to erase an imaginary math equation written in the air. As he continued his assault on my senses, drops of shower water hit the floor and I found myself longing for the 3 days ago when Miley Cyrus was grinding on Robin Thicke like her Mid-Term depended on it.
Tweking and Selfie, are both now officially REAL WORDS.
That’s it. I quit this b*tch, I’m Audi-5000.
Current society, you and I are dunzo. I’ve got my tub of almond butter, a sleeve of saltine crackers, and a vat of Tito’s handmade vodka, ready to go. All that’s missing in this breakup scenario is the comfort of my dark hall closet and copious amounts of Air Supply. Quite frankly humanity, with this latest development, “I’m all out of love.”