A friend just brought up the subject of using “adult” as a verb, and I figured it’s time to complain about the latest words and usage crimes that are making me flinch.
“Parenting” was bad at first but now I accept it; it will never go away. But adulting? WHY? Can’t you fucking millennials get it through your heads that most of your lives will be spent as a grown up?? Why does it strike you as an amusing condition? Just because you’re too commitment-phobic to buy a car or a house or have children, it doesn’t mean you can act like a baby forever.
Call your Ubers and drink your cold-pressed coffee but don’t come up with these awful words, okay?
A word that’s been cropping up everywhere is “intentional.” It’s a perfectly good word, when you mean “on purpose” and the opposite of “by mistake” or accidental. But does everything you do have to be intentional now? Before you use it, stop and ask yourself if it’s an extraneous word that just makes you sound like an asshole. Better yet, if you like to use it, go here and get back to me.
What about “performative?” People seem to think it makes them sound smart to use this word, but outside of a college classroom, it’s pretentious. Just stop it.
I can’t remember if we’ve discussed “yassssss” before. It literally kills me. I mean literally, because I can feel my soul die a little, each time I see it. That and “woot.”
“Squad” is gut-wrenchingly awful. Are you in middle school? If not, don’t use it and don’t condone its use.
If you read Instagram comments, you should hate these two with all you’ve got: “This is life.” And “This is everything.” Usually it’s in reference to a sweater or something. Can a sweater really be life? Can it be everything? Can’t you just love it or say it’s nice or gorgeous or dope? If it’s life, what’s left?
I’m too angry to continue. Please feel free to add your complaints or argue with mine.
No, wait! I just remembered a word-related moment of joy I experienced last week. I was shopping at a local thrift shop, where the ladies behind the counter are around 100 years old. I heard one of them say to another, “That’s not my jam.” I was astounded; old ladies are that hip now???? Then I turned around and saw that she was talking about an actual jar of jam.
Okay. Your turn!