Adam has this wincingly bad method of attempting to obscure any lapses in his vocabulary, by hastily inventing new terminology.
Most commonly in these situations, he’s smashed and can barely get a sentence out anyway. This summer he’s drawlingly requested that I turn on the “electric wind” (fan). This is a seasonal appearance, obviously – it’s replaced hiccupingly during winter with the “electric fire” (heater).
On some occasions, he’ll have blinding moments of brilliance and compose new words of genuine worth. After recently taking some pies out of the fridge to heat in the oven, then realising I’d already ordered dinner – he put them back in the freezer and announced he was “refrosting” them. Although, somehow, I get the feeling that word doesn’t exist for a reason.
Last night’s new word is bound to become part of the zeitgeist, however. Over a few beers in our backyard, somehow the conversation turned to lady-parts. Adam’s face crumpled as he visibly tried to load the memory-module of his brain containing the little-accessed references to female anatomy. After struggling to find the right word for a few minutes, he loudly announced: “That’s like when old women get loose flaps, you know, their… labidaba.”
We burst into laughter, but it struck me as what could be the next Latin dance sensation. La Bamba, Macarena… Labidaba. What a natural progression. That said, I shudder to think what the dance moves involve, let alone represent.
Anyway, I’m sure there’s a franchise in it. The Labidaba could easily be followed up by the Clickoris and the In-Va-Gina-Da-Vida.
{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }
I think there a surgery for a floppy labidaba.