The Lunxicon

On Saturd ay I went to a party at a friend’s new apartment. Meats were grilled, beers were swilled, and a good time was had by all. Point being, one of my friends responded to a comment by his girlfriend with “pish posh!” I was inspired. I say that all the time and would like to imagine that it is spreading thanks to my (over)use of the term. In fact, when it was said, my lady friend and I turned to each other, our eyes wide with glee, and said “pish posh! fuck yeah!”

Now, “pish posh” is such a wonderful phrase because it sounds like baby talk mixed with a touch of Notting Hill. You can imagine some old English judge, complete with stupid wig, playing with his mildly retarded grandson and going “peekaboo! tishy toshy pish posh!”. The act of completely dismissing someone’s argument while talking in what amounts to upper class British infant gibberish is just too awesome.

“Hey, Bob, I was thinking: Right now we are focusing our attention on a demographic that is already swamped with products of this sort. I was talking with Greg over in marketing, and the new product manager, Beth. We all agree that the Swazmaster 2.6 could easily be marketed to the 18-30 age group because of the new features integrated into its release.”
“Pish posh, Tim, that’s a stupid idea. NEXT!”

See? How stupid does Tim feel right now? REALLY fucking stupid, that’s how stupid. It’s like saying, “Look, you are too dumb for me to even bother explaining why you are wrong. You will obviously not understand it. I mean, did you even hear what you just said? Instead of wasting my time discussing this with you, I will simply respond with a vaguely real-sounding word that will get through to your infant-level brain.”

Plus, the dope double dose of alliteration would moisten my panties if I wore any.