WORRIES

Of late I have noticed that littered about my daily conversations are words and phrases that seem to have arrived out of the deep blue. While most are apropo a few have slipped into my lexicon and make no sense or for some reason just feel awkward.

For instance why do I constantly lean on the lazy phrase no worries? Never in my entire adult life have I been worry free so why now do I try to express the contrary. When one obliviously runs into me with their shopping cart at Whole Foods or accidentally on purpose cuts in line at the DMV I end up letting these folks off lightly rather than lay into them with the smoldering rage I hold just beneath the surface. Not releasing this pent up anger cannot be healthy but I persist in posing as the doormat. I think it is about time I banish the phrase from my vocabulary and from here on out I will adopt the attitude of no worries my ass you son of a bitch. Solved.

Then there are the words, the ones that frankly do not belong. Each year Oxford and Webster bestow upon us a wealth of new words. Anywhere between one and four thousand are born annually insuring that my native tongue will not go extinct in the foreseeable future. This year Webster included photobomb, a term used at nearly every gig that I attend. Never have I considered the actual birthdate of this word and from the looks of most of the images where “bombing” takes place I would prefer if this term had been aborted first trimester to save us from all the unwanted and unloved imagery that has resulted in this reckless practice. Another modernism I errantly took up was the slang form of the word sick. Once uttered I actually think I threw up a little in my mouth, thank goodness for my convenient tin of cinnamon Altoids. Curiously I had no idea why I chose that moment to go teen but lately there has been no turning back. Whereas I came of age in the era of “Arthur Fonzarelli cool” many words have carried the torch since and I have usually resisted. Whether they be awesome, fly, chill, fresh or phat I have generally stayed true to the cool of my youth which is why the utterance of sick caught me off guard and feeling a bit immature. Sure Steph Curry’s ankle breaking repertoire is a sight to behold, cool even, so why is it now my instinct to proclaim his theatrics sick and why now do I find this so worrisome? Well no worries, uh I mean…