Words that make me go “ew.”

2/13/2022

Photo by Karsten Winegeart on Unsplash

A lot of people collect things. Bobbleheads. Beer bottles. Barbie dolls.

I, on the other hand, refuse to collect anything. Or I should say: I refuse to collect anything that takes up space, collects dust, or requires special insurance coverage.

What I collect are words. I currently have nineteen different lists with titles like “naughty words I'll probably never use,” “malapropisms,” “eggcorns,” and “good names.” I collect words that sound mellifluous, that paint a vivid picture, or that simply perform a specific job beautifully. You can see a number of words I treasure here.

One of my lists is entitled “terrible words.” These are words that are difficult to pronounce or unpleasant to hear or that sound like the wrong part of speech. Some just rub me the wrong way.

My “terrible words” list was on my mind this week when I was shopping for postage stamps online. I noticed that the USPS has collection of Forever stamps dedicated to—of all things—backyard games. The collection’s eight different stamps cover everything from badminton to bocce, including cornhole. “Cornhole” has been #5 on my “terrible words” list for years. And coincidentally, it appears directly above “philately,” which means “stamp collecting,” but sounds like an adverb and has a sadistic number of l-sounds in it. Two thumbs down.

Anyway, I thought I’d share my “terrible words” list with you. And no, “moist” does not appear on it. I’m a copywriter who needs to write evocatively about cake from time to time, and I’m not about to take “moist” out of commission. Also, I remain in the minority that just doesn’t mind “moist.” I’ll write it again, looking you directly in the metaphorical eye. Moist.

If that made you uncomfortable, you may want to quit reading. Things are about to get a whole lot worse.

Here we go—my list of terrible words:

conurbation
ombudsman
contumely (A NOUN!)
smegma
cornhole
philately
sack/sac
diphthong
crampons
taintworm
epiglottis
crepuscular
suppurate
flaccid
fistula
crotch
contrariety
sillily
monthslong
palimpsest
shunt
stalk (the noun)
wilily
brobdingnagian
Behance
bespoke
carbuncle
sackbut
crumhorn
ornerier
spendthrift
vuln
fleshpot
I don't think it's *terrible*, but prolix has no business being an adjective.
severalty
spurtle

A number of my friends contributed to this list. (Thanks, Heather and David and everyone else.) One person wrote this gem: “‘Crepuscular’ is like a beautiful woman named Hagatha.’” (Apologies to all the Hagathas out there.)

How about you? Are there words that make you cringe? Please share!

7 Comments

Lisa

2/13/2022 07:43:36 pm

If I never hear the word “seminal” again, I’m good.

Sara Rosinsky link

2/13/2022 08:05:06 pm

Ha! Every time I hear it, I think, "Do you know what that means?"

Judy Linklater

2/14/2022 08:00:53 am

Gleet

Sara Rosinsky link

2/14/2022 08:47:13 am

Ooh—good one!

Stjepan link

2/26/2022 09:29:38 am

Hi Sara!
I do not have any words that bother me. In fact, I find it rather onomatopoeic to use words which, when spoken, sound very much like I imagine the scene I'm describing would sound.
Admittedly, I do tend to go overboard with it, but it's a lot of fun.
I don't know, if I'm describing a sword blade, I can almost hear a lot of S-containing words just begging to be in there.
And then - should that blade strike another such as in a sword fight - now Ss and Ts would be flying about.
And then the missed swings would whoosh and swish with a lot of Ss and Ws.
And then someone would get stabbed and fall to the ground, drop, groan and die with a lot of Ds and Gs.
And then blood would be gushing forth with a lot of Bs and Gs and Rs.
And if you've studied ancient Greek for 6 years because your parents decided that you should become a medical doctor like they are (I didn't) - diphthong is your middle name.
If, in addition to that, you've lived for a couple of years in Holland and learned a bit of Dutch - learning to pronounce the handful of the few but the most illogical contractions of diphthongs that you will find in any language - the curse of the diphthong becomes a blessing.
When I first arrived in Holland in 2007 for my 2-year Research Assistant stint - the name of the place where I had to go was Bijvoet Center. The bus that drove to that place had the address of "De Uithof" printed on the front.
Now, how the hell does "ui" translate to "ow", "ij" to "ey", and "oe" to "u"?
Asking for directions becomes incredibly difficult if you can't even remotely pronounce the name of the place.
Writing it down on a piece of paper did the trick.
Anyway, by revealing the secret of the Dutch diphthongs to you now (that's the third time I wrote that word - I know!) - if you know just a bit of German - you've just nailed Dutch!
Best wishes,
Stjepan

Sara Rosinsky link

2/26/2022 09:51:27 am

I've never given the word "diphthong" enough thought. It seems to derive from the Latin "diphthongus," which just sounds filthy, doesn't it?

Anyway, good to hear from you, my polyglot friend!

Stjepan

2/26/2022 10:08:04 am

To be honest, for me, "Diphthongus" precipitates an image of a Roman-time gladiator sick with diphtheria but still showing up for "panem et circenses" with tridents and nets and all - whilst wearing a thong.
Yeah, I said it.
Everybody wore a facemask in the Colosseum that afternoon.
Some wore two - one over their eyes.
Some wore three - the third imitating the brave fashion-aware gladiator with what would later be known as "The Lingerie of Diphthongus", a fabled mystical magic item lost in time.
So, now with all that imagery permanently branded into your brain, I can go out to my garden and enjoy my evening cigar.
Best wishes,
Glottus

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Words that make me go “ew.”

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