‘Snap! I’ve been jonesin’ to go there!’ my presumably intelligent, 35-year-old cousin said to the preteen party guest. I could only assume that she meant she really, really wanted to go there.
The place she had been ‘jonesin’‘ to go is a store called Ikea. Apparently, it’s a totally groovy place. (groovy as in cool, not full of grooves.) I didn’t want to admit that not only am I not up on the hip lingo of today’s generation, I was also clueless about Ikea. Initially, I thought it must be a store specializing in terra cotta animals with grassy bean sprouts for hair, but then I remembered that would be Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia.
Ikea is where the young party guest had purchased my niece’s birthday gift. Oddly, that alone made it a very cool gift, in spite of the fact that it was a peculiar, ugly, red and orange polka-dotted hippotamus sort of thing, with an abnormally, long, narrow body. But since I didn’t want to let on that I am the consummate, uncool stay-at-home mother of five, I oohed and aaahed along with everyone else.
Later I researched Ikea on the internet and found that the creature bestowed upon my niece goes by the very unflattering name of Barnslig Flodhast.
I’m always intrigued by what my cousin will come out with next. A few years ago she said my homemade cookies were the bomb. I found this a bit disheartening because when I was a teen if we said something ‘bombed’ it meant that it went bad. As in, ‘Man, I like totally bombed that math test.’
So, when she used the term to describe my cooking I was a little bummed (which means sad or depressed). She might as well have said I gagged her with a spoon.
But as it turned out something that is the bomb is awesome! Or you might call it da’ bomb if you are ultra cool. (Cool meaning hip and trendy, not moderately cold.)
Of course “awesome” is an overused term that started in the 80s and stuck in our vocabulary. Awesome used to actually mean awe-inspiring. Mountains are awesome, the ocean is awesome, Duran Duran used to be awesome. Cookies are generally not awe-inspiring, but I was still flattered once I found out what she meant.
Finally, I decided to ask my cousin, why, at her age, she feels compelled to use the latest lingo.
‘I work on a college campus,’ was her reply.
Funny, I recently had dinner with a professor from UCLA. She was beautiful and refined, right down to her beaded shawl, perfectly coiffed snow-white hair, and elegant jewelry. She has been on the UCLA campus for a great many more years than my cousin has been on the IUPUI campus and yet not once did she say, ‘snap’ or share that she was ‘jonesin’’ to go anywhere. And in spite of the fact that our food was excellent, she never felt obliged to say it was, ‘da’ bomb.’
Of course it could be that she didn’t use that last bit of lingo for the same reason I should not have said it to my teenaged son a few weeks ago. In an effort to really communicate my love and admiration for him I simply stated, ‘Son, you are da’ bomb!’
Son immediately doubled over in laughter while my teen daughter rolled her eyes and asked, ‘Did you seriously just call him da’ bomb’?
‘That’s a good thing, right?’ I wanted to make sure I hadn’t offended him.
‘It was good about three years ago. Nobody says da’ bomb anymore. I’m pretty sure moms didn’t ever say it,’ she informed me.
I’m glad to know that my kids are up to date on the latest slang words. Now, all they need to be the hit of any party is to arrive carrying a Barnslig Flodhast.
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