Cranch

Cranch: (v) crunch

 Every once in a while, while minding my own business and enjoying the surroundings, breathing the quality air and musing over the ingredients in the dip adorning my chip, someone will suddenly sideswipe me with a word that is tossed out with the sole intention of being disruptive or pretentious.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

This individual will have spent hours trying to find such a word—or phrase—so as to evoke admiration from a roomful of souls who are relaxing, trying to enjoy themselves in a monosyllabic world.

In such an environment, I heard the word “cranch.”

At first, I did not respond, assuming the person who had spoken perhaps had a lisp or was in a pre-stroke condition. But they continued to say it over and over again until finally I broke down and asked.

“What is cranch?”

The verbal scholar then launched into an explanation of how “cranch” was just another way to say “crunch,” but may have found its origins in blending “crash” and “crunch” together.

I made the mistake of listening. I’m sure you’ve done it before. It’s that moment when you fail to turn your head away, or are unable to doze off quickly, connoting to the person speaking that they have your permission to continue.

The seminar went on and on.

I realized, when he (yes, a male) started into another word, that it was time for me to intercede for my own sanity and stop the onslaught of the teaching binge.

So I created my own little myth. Leaping into the conversation, I explained that not only was “cranch” a blending of “crunch” and “crash,” but it was part of a breakdown of the word.

Everybody looked at me, bewildered. I continued. “Let me give you an example. I crinch. You cranch. We crunch. And the reason we don’t hear these very often,” I explained, “is that crunching is the normal pastime, since it is done mainly in a multiple-person situation.”

It was astounding. Everyone believed me—especially our initial lecturer.

Then I was stuck. Should I tell them I was kidding? I know I probably should have.

But just be prepared and not surprised if one day, someone at a party walks up to you and apologizes for “crinching” his chips too loudly.


Donate Button


Subscribe to Jonathan’s Weekly Podcast

Good News and Better News

 

Chow

Chow: (n) food.

There aren’t many things about which I am a purist.

I greatly believe that human beings have the right to phrase, think, pursue and even live out their hearts’ desire.

This doesn’t mean there aren’t ideas and phrases I find annoying–and one of those peccadilloes is when people decide to get cute about
describing eating.

I personally like the word “eat.”

I see no reason to make it more clever. So when people refer to food as “chow,” and slap me on the back, asking me if I’m ready to “chow down,” I suddenly turn into a German Shepherd and want to bite them.

After all, German Shepherds do chow down. They put their faces in bowls and stuff the food into their mouths until it falls out the sides, returning to the bowl to continue their slurping and crunching.

I am not a German Shepherd.

I don’t eat chow, and therefore, I don’t “chow down.”

I also don’t like to pull myself up to the old feed trough. (There seems to be an animal theme going on here…)

I don’t like to shovel food.

I don’t particularly care to inhale my food.

I really do just like to eat.

And I don’t want to be prissy about it, but when I hear the word “chow” I think of someone who wants to convey he or she has been in the military, or a 13-year-old girl who thinks she’s cool because she knows the Italian word for “good-bye.”

 

Donate Button