Daddy-longlegs

Daddy-longlegs: (n) Also called harvestman, a spiderlike arachnid with a rounded body and extremely long, slender legs.

I had nearly decided not to do any research whatsoever.

I so enjoyed the old tale about the Daddy-longlegs spider.

If you’re not familiar with it, let me enlighten you.

The Daddy-longlegs is actually one of the most poisonous spiders in the world.

But because it has such a tiny body to accompany its long-leggedness, its fangs are too small to bite human skin.

Now, isn’t that fascinating?

That doesn’t take away from how scary it looks.

But if Daddio ended up being as poisonous as he is ugly, well let’s just say, our lives would be fraught with terror.

Yes, and it also makes for a great object lesson:

If it ends up that you have a little head filled with poison and you have too many legs to walk around and hurt people, just pray that God has given you a mouth that’s not able to spread your venom.

 

Curds

Curds: (n) any substance resembling curd cheese

“Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet

Eating her curds and whey.

Along came a spider, who sat down beside her

And frightened Miss Muffet away.”

You may view this as a nursery rhyme.

Actually, it is a warning to young men everywhere, written in code, requiring deciphering.

First of all, beware any woman who would call herself “Little Miss Muffet.”

The word “little” by itself tells you that she will be on a diet the entire duration that you know her, which means you will also need to be on the same regimen, because of her obsession to always be slimmer.

Shall we examine the word “Miss?” She believes everything she owns, wears, or dangles from her is gold. You are merely coming to the museum to buy a ticket to see it.

I don’t even want to talk about Muffet.

But here’s where it gets interesting: she sat on a tuffet.

Soon in our story, a spider will appear.

If you don’t want to see spiders, don’t sit on a tuffet, which is a footstool close to the ground. This is obviously spider turf.

How arrogant of you, Little Miss, to think you can invade Spider World without being challenged?

And what is the Little Miss eating? Curds and whey.

For those of you less aware, that is the old-fashioned configuration for cottage cheese.

There you go.

She’s not eating a hot dog. She’s not munching a burger. You see, if you get with this chick, you’re headin’ for vegetarian—to eventually die a vegan.

So along comes a spider (surprise, surprise) and sat down beside her. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for a spider to sit? Where, after all, do you put all the legs?

It was an act of friendliness, certainly misinterpreted by a spoiled rotten little brat, who should probably choke on those curds.

To make it worse—or to make it clear, depending on your perspective—she sees the spider, feigns horror and runs away.

Now, you’re a spider. You didn’t bite anyone. You came, you sat down. God knows, you weren’t interested in the curds and whey. Your goal was interaction. Inter-species exchange of values.

That damn bigot—Miss Muffet—ran away when she saw you.

Maybe it’s because she heard how well-endowed black spiders are.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Bug

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bug: (n) a small insect

Here was the explanation:

“You can always tell a black widow spider by the hourglass on its thorax.”

Please forgive me. There are so many things in that description I don’t understand, while meanwhile the little Dictionary Bbooger is biting and killing me.

I don’t like bugs.

I’m going to go one step further, because apparently I’m in a cranky mood.

I don’t like people who like bugs.

On this given day, I don’t even like bug-eyed people. I don’t think I’m alone–we don’t say somebody “antelopes” us. We say they bug us.

Spiders, bugs, insects or whatever categories they fall into, are all obnoxious. And they seem to warn us with their level of ugliness.

For instance, the common house fly is rather common. I know it spends an awful lot of time down at the poop pile, but other than that–and the fact that it occasionally buzzes me when I’m eating potato salad–it seems pretty harmless.

But then you have hairy spiders, long-legged spiders, insects with multiple numbers of legs–all of them warning you through their peculiarities to stay clear. A cockroach–two words that I never want to see together.

Also, I do not think it is fun to watch somebody handle a tarantula.

So when it comes to bugs, I am feeling my skin crawl even as I write this article.

Matter of fact, for the next hour I will probably assume there’s something creeping up my leg.

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Bisexual

Bisexual: (n) possessing attributes of both male and female within oneself

Sitting in a coffeehouse when I was only sixteen years old, a long-haired young college student with a cerebral profile and an air of Dictionary Bself-importance asked me, “Are you bisexual?”

Innocently, from my Midwestern naiveté, I replied, “No. I would never pay for a woman.”

Surviving that gentleman’s laughter and growing up in a society where such terms became more prevalently spoken, I now know that “bisexual” refers to a willingness, openness, or even yearning to have sexual relationships with people of both genders.

The opinion on this possibility has changed, even in the gay community.

In the past, those who had a predilection toward sharing romantic interests with the same sex were often annoyed with the concept of bisexuality. And I suppose the case could be made that if you are born heterosexual, or born homosexual, where is the evidence that you could be born bisexual?

But setting aside the nonsense of conflict, let us go back to the purity of the definition: “possessing attributes of both male and female within oneself.”

I personally think that’s a positive.

Even men who insist their masculinity is incapable of being penetrated by any feminine aspect whatsoever will eventually sprout some sort of fear of an “icky-poo” or a threatening spider.

And women, who would appear to be the fairy dust of heaven and the dew on the morning rose, will fart at will, and pull off the most amazing physical feats.

Maybe in the sense of human sexuality there is a great depth of mutuality which we’re all just afraid to consider–because it might make us appear to be too weak or too strong.

I don’t know.

But I will advance the theory that when either men or women are sexually aroused, what has aroused them is not nearly as important as culminating the action.

So what can we learn?

If by bisexual you are referring only to physically desiring carnal pleasure with other people of either gender–well, I will leave that to your imagination.

But if by bisexual you might be inkling to the notion that men and women have more in common than difference, then I would say you have just made a sharp right turn … back to Eden.

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