Chin

Chin: (n) the protruding part of the face below the mouth

I liked my chin so much I ordered a double, and am considering acquiring a third.

A chin is a most unfortunate piece of the face. Too much responsibility is placed upon it.

Some people request that it be chiseled. It’s difficult to do that with something made of flesh.

Out of the clear blue sky, a chin can be accused of being weak. What exactly constitutes a weak chin?

It’s used in athletics as a way of determining that we’ve “crossed the bar”–lifting ourselves.

Then we are informed that we are to “take it on the chin”–the question immediately being, take what? Are we speaking of lotion, or a fist?

Since lips are sloppy, chins often get dumped on. They have to deal with excessive slobber.

It’s not easy being a chin.

You seem to be holding up a face, but nobody appreciates you because they’re too busy talking about eyes, nose size. Sometimes ears even get higher billing. (That could be because they’re higher.)

Everybody wants to French kiss, but what would it be without the chin? Where would you get the leverage to push that tongue into its appropriate position?

Chins seem to suffer with acne. They’re bespeckled for most of the adolescent years.

So it’s best to assume that a chin is supposed to be rugged, upward thinking–yet soft enough that it doesn’t scratch the face of someone who wants to get close for a kiss.

Some people put hair right in the middle of it and call it a goatee. Or is that a soul patch? Wait! Does a chin have a soul? Or is it just a patch, growing one?

I am grateful that I’m not a chin, because if I were, I would constantly be bewildered as to what was expected of me and how I should respond.

So I guess the only answer is: “Chin up.”

 

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Beau

Beau: (n) a boyfriend or male admirer.Dictionary B

Although I don’t want to be considered a curmudgeon, there are certain words that rile me up.

One of them is “boyfriend.” And honestly, I am not any more enamored with the use of “beau.”

It is my discovery that to be a friend to a female, the last thing I need to be is a boy. Equally disappointing to the average woman is when we don the persona of man.

The reason we contend there’s a battle of the sexes is because we posture in our gender and insist on our uniqueness, making us a goddam threat. We don’t tolerate such an exclusive approach in other situations:

We don’t allow butchers to cut up our pets because they’re off work and miss the job.

We don’t permit teenagers to insist they don’t need to be part of the social structure because they’re too busy dealing with the angst of their acne.

Yet for some reason, it appears to be acceptable to hide behind the “guise of the guys” and the “mystique of the feminine.”

It’s hilarious–especially when you get around people in their senior years, who find themselves ingloriously dating, introducing their male partner as a “boyfriend.”

I have just found that the best way to get along with a woman is to make it clear that you do not consider her an acquisition, but rather, a confidante.

Adding the word “boy” inserts way to much testosterone.

And if you insist on being called “beau” in order to avoid boyfriend… then you add too much grits and gravy.

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Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix

 

 

 

Antsy

dictionary with letter A

Antsy: (adj) agitated, restless or impatient: (e.g., he was too antsy to stay in one place)

It reminds me of the story of the man who went to the doctor with a surprising case of adult acne, and after tests were conducted, the physician informed the gentleman that the acne was a symptom of a cancer which was growing in his liver.

The man replied, “But can you clear up my skin?”

You see, that’s what I think about “antsy.”

Antsy is one of those superficial symptoms we address with a topical solution, by distracting ourselves, trying to be patient or fidgeting around, hoping nobody will yell at us.

But “antsy” is actually the emotional acne that appears because we are aggravated. And aggravation is what crops up when we’ve allowed the cancer of arrogance to take root in our being.

Even though many folks may disagree with this, insisting that their own form of nerves is caused by a high metabolism or an energy which has dogged them from their youth, I find that people get antsy because they’ve allowed themselves to become aggravated, which is brought about because they feel they deserve special consideration or they’ve been miscast.

It’s amazing how quickly your acne clears up when the cancer is addressed. Of course, many people would rather take care of their pimples than their tumors.

But the condition of aggravation is a damning state which never gives you peace of mind, nor any celebration over accomplishment.

I started solving a lot of my problems when I realized that I was arrogant. It’s not that I’ve escaped all of these prideful bursts of self-infatuation, but I am fully aware that I’m susceptible, and only in remission.

So because I address my arrogance, I get a whole lot less aggravated, and find that waiting is not only necessary, but powerful in most situations.

I don’t need to be antsy.

So unless you want to die from cancer of the liver but with beautiful skin, and you want to be known as a fussy individual because you never addressed your true addiction to arrogance, it’s a good idea to go back and track down the source.

How do you avoid arrogance? Well, it’s really quite simple.

Since there are eight billion of you on this planet … you really can’t be that special.

 

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Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix

Age of Consent

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Age of consent: (n) the age at which a person’s, particularly a girl’s, consent to sexual intercourse is valid by law.

I am thoroughly convinced that a conservative philosophy would work beautifully if those who pursued it were actually faithful.

Likewise, I have no doubt that a liberal agenda would be equally as positive if the people adhering to its tenets would not swerve from their conviction.

The problem is inconsistency–and nowhere does this show up in our society any more than in our dealings with our children–and especially with our teenagers. Let me give you an example.

Teenagers are supposed to have the wisdom to study for school, take care of their lockers, drive a car, decide what college they want to go to, study for the SAT, make good choices on not drinking alcohol or smoking cigarettes, and control their hormones.

Yet by the same token, we turn right around and say they are irresponsible, childish, silly, that their brains don’t fully develop until they’re twenty-five years of age, and that they are just as capable of lying as they are of breaking out in acne.

We have to make up our minds.

If our children are able to drive a car down the street, are they not also mature enough to make decisions about their own sexuality?

We don’t want our children to be drug dependent, while simultaneously living in a society that has a free flow of alcohol and is discussing legalizing marijuana–to further deaden their personalities.

They can’t drink until they’re twenty-one, yet in every movie or television show, we see high school students freely consuming alcohol products, as if they just stopped off at the local party store and picked up a bunch.

Somewhere along the line, we need to get a handle on what we really believe the young humans are capable of achieving and what we think they aren’t.

I firmly believe that the teenagers who came through my house were capable of doing anything at all–as long as they were adequately motivated and supervised. I believe they were nearly worthless if left to their own initiative.

I don’t know whether that is a positive or a negative–it’s just my finding. To me, young humans are very similar to guns. In the hands of the right individual, who is responsible and willing to point the implement in the correct direction, there can possibly be a powerful use. But guns left lying around will always fall into the wrong hands.

Such is the case with the teenager.

So it is time for our society to realize that when puberty is striking people at the age of twelve or thirteen, to ask these individuals to withhold their urges for ten years in order to complete a college education is not only ridiculous, but may be the definition of impossible.

So what am I saying about the age of consent? I know we have to have a legal number so as to run our society in a prudent way–but I do think it is the duty of all parents to sit down with their children and candidly walk through the entire process of human sexuality–and let them know the consequences of all actions.

So what is the age of consent?

I really do not think human beings are able to consent to their own choice in sexuality until they have been taught what is destructive and what is valuable. For some folks, that means they probably shouldn’t kiss until they’re thirty. But for other kids, it could be much younger.

Our culture is desperately in need of some consistency. I welcome the concept of freedom … as long as it is intentionally and ferociously linked to responsibility.

Acne

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acne: (n.) the occurrence of inflamed or infected sebaceous glands in the skin, characterized by red pimples, usually on the face, prevalent among teenagers.

There are so many things about acne that come to my mind that I barely know where to start.

I was not one of those people who had tremendous amounts of the skin infestation. There were people in my class in high school who appeared to have a face of acne, with occasional interruptions of real skin.

This was not me.

My face broke out around my chin and sometimes in my lip area, which was frightening enough in itself.

Somewhere around my fifteenth birthday, I became convinced that my lips were huge. Matter of fact, I would occasionally purse them when I was around young women for fear that they might think I had some Afrikaan in my ancestry. Not only was that thought bigoted, but also ridiculous when you saw my parents, who made the Pillsbury Dough Boy look like he had just come back from Jamaica.

But the thing about acne is, in a self-conscious era, an even more obvious and visible affliction is placed on you. For those who wonder if God is cruel or just has a bizarre sense of humor, the gift of acne to adolescents is an excellent example.

As a teenager, you have a self-consciousness which teeters on suicidal to begin with, and to be given a red rash all over your face, to accentuate your lack of attractiveness, might be the definition of cruel and unusual.

It didn’t help to be around adults. Adults fell into one of three categories:

1. Understanding. Now, this may sound promising, but to hear someone say “you’ll outgrow it” is like the Mama Alligator telling her young offspring that his tail will grow back after the truck ran over it and severed it. It may be true, but it’s not very comforting.

2. Remedy people. These are the adults who are positive they have the perfect solution to get rid of your acne. And it always has something to do with a medication that burns or smells like crap. Oh, and then when you smear it on your face and it actually makes the acne MORE noticeable.

3. Then there’s the third group, which was inhabited by my mother. These are the people who warn you that if you pick at your acne, especially in the area of your chin and nose, that you are in the part of the face which she referred to as “the fatal triangle,” and that you could infect yourself, send poison to your brain and die within minutes.

So as you can see, there is no hope for those who are young and afflicted by Job’s cankerous sores.

I guess the truth is, you do mostly outgrow it, even though every once in a while, I will sprout a pimple, even at my age. It does not make me feel young.

It just brings back memories … of “the fatal triangle.”