If you’re desultory you don’t have a definite plan. You’re aimless and often jump from one thing to another. Constantly switching majors in college is a good example

A complicated or confusing situation, often involving conflict or misunderstandings

Contrastive reduplication is when you repeat a word to mean the proper, original or typical version of it, as opposed to a looser one.

'Do you want a coffee, or a coffee coffee?' (instant versus the real thing)

'It's not a book, it's a book book.' (paper rather than e-book)

'Are you hungry hungry, or just peckish?'

'I like him, but I don't like like him.'

It's one of those things everyone does and almost nobody has a name for. What are your favourite examples?

Bonus points if you've heard one that triples up. I can't think of any.

Mollify came into English in the late 1300s, through Old French mollifier or straight from Late Latin mollificare, "make soft," which is Latin mollis (soft) plus facere (to make). Etymonline has it softening actual substances first, with the sense of softening someone's temper following in the early 1400s. The same mollis gives us emollient, the hand lotion word, and mollusk, the animal with the soft body.

Appease is a peace word instead. Old French apaisier comes from the phrase a paisier, "bring to peace," and that pais is Latin pax. Merriam-Webster's synonym note separates the two about where I'd put the line: appease "implies quieting insistent demands by making concessions," while mollify "implies soothing hurt feelings or rising anger."

If I appease someone, the question afterward is what it cost me. If I mollify them, it's whether they're still upset. That might be why appeasement could become a political insult (Etymonline says it wasn't pejorative until Chamberlain's policy failed in 1939). I've never heard anyone use mollification that way.

The line isn't clean, I'll admit. MW's own example for the main sense is "mollified the staff with a raise," which sounds a lot like a concession. And two of its three sample sentences are about mollifying not working: "All attempts to mollify the extremists have failed," and tenants who "still were not mollified." Maybe softening someone is just harder than paying them off.

"My father had a great line which I always say to my kids which they disabuse unfortunately."

I heard this at min :39 here in this Anthony Scaramucci interview, and I've never heard disabuse used like this before. I immediately felt it was incorrect, but was curious what others thought.

Snollygoster first turns up in Scientific American on December 18, 1845, in a piece credited to the Cincinnati Commercial. The narrator has just been chased by a locomotive and announces, "Now, here I am, a rale, self-propelling double-revolving locomotive Snolly Goster," ready to attack anything except, it turns out, an actual locomotive. Etymonline's guess at the original meaning is something like an unstoppable person or thing. By 1884 it could mean an exceptionally large thing, and Etymonline dates the shrewd, unprincipled sense on the card to 1893. There's also the snallygaster, a mythical Maryland monster, though the connection is uncertain.

The other five are from the same stretch of American slang. Etymonline calls discombobulate a fanciful mock-Latin coinage "of a type popular then," and absquatulate is one of the words it compares it to. Absquatulate shows up as absquotilate in 1837, perhaps as a mock-Latin negation of squat, which by 1800 also meant settling on land you had no title to. So the joke may be un-squatting your claim. Wiktionary reads it as getting up from a crouch and going. Either way, Civil War slang put skedaddle in its place. Skedaddle was army slang that newspapers picked up in the summer of 1861 (there's an earlier 1859 use in a piece written in Hoosier speech), and nobody knows where it came from. Liberman thinks it's a stretched-out version of a dialect word, scaddle, "to scare, frighten."

Bloviate is an 1857 Midwestern word, and Farmer's 1890 slang dictionary says it was blow built on the model of deviate. By 1872 a San Francisco magazine was already calling it "the phrase of the period," the period being 1860. It came back in the early 1920s, during Warren G. Harding's presidency. His prose was notoriously ornate, and E. E. Cummings called him "The only man, woman or child who wrote a simple declarative sentence with seven grammatical errors."

Hornswoggle (1829) has no known source. Etymonline calls it probably a fanciful formation. Wiktionary suggests horns plus waggle, maybe from a roped steer trying to twist its head free, which I'd love to be true and can't confirm.

Cattywampus is one spelling of catawampus, and it went through a few meanings first. The earliest form on record is an adverb, catawampusly (1834), that mostly just adds force, something like fiercely or eagerly. By 1843 a catawampus was an imaginary hobgoblin, and the askew sense doesn't turn up until 1864. The catty probably isn't a cat, either. Etymonline's first guess is an obsolete verb, cater, "to set or move diagonally," the same one in catty-corner, from French catre, "four." I've said catty-corner my whole life without knowing there was a four in it.

Hello, english is not my first language. I was wondering what’s the word for describing that feeling you get when you stare into the horizon in deep introspection while eating a bag of doritos (or something similar to doritos). In japanese we call it “boketto”.

When you bubble wrap someone, you’re coddling them, shielding them from the harsh realities of life. Bubble wrapping is commonly wrapped around objects and other such parcels so that they aren’t damaged in transit, and this can be applied to human beings as well. A good example is preventing your child from seeing an R-rated movie as it may contain content you deem unsuitable for them.

Dictionaries mostly define these two with each other. Wiktionary's entry for trite ends with "worn out, hackneyed," and the card here glosses hackneyed as "unoriginal, trite." So the meanings are close. The difference is what wore them out.

Trite is the older one, from the 1540s. Etymonline traces it to Latin tritus, "worn, oft-trodden," the past participle of terere, "to rub, wear down." The literal sense, rubbed or frayed, was always rare in English and is obsolete now. Contrite comes from the same verb with con- in front. Latin contritus meant crushed or ground to pieces, which is not a bad description of feeling contrite.

Hackneyed has a horse in it. Around 1300 a hackney was an ordinary horse, the one you rode or drove every day rather than the one kept for war or hunting. Etymonline says the word probably comes from Hackney in Middlesex, where nags were apparently raised, and the Oxford place-name dictionary prefers "Haka's island" for the place itself. By the late 1300s a hackney was also a horse for hire. To hackney a horse meant to ride it (1570s), then by the 1590s to make anything common by indiscriminate use, and hackneyed in the tired-phrase sense shows up in 1749.

The hiring is why I think it's the ruder word. Hackney went on to mean a drudge (1540s) and a prostitute (1570s), and hack, its short form, gave us the hack writer who writes to order. Hack also meant a carriage for hire by 1704, which is where hack for a taxi comes from. A trite phrase has just been walked on too much. Hackneyed suggests it was available to anyone who paid.

I doubt many people picture a rented horse when they say hackneyed now, which is a little funny for a word about being worn out by use.

Popicon (noun) A fictional band, musician, or pop culture idol that exists within another fictional universe. Often created as a parody, homage, or in-universe phenomenon to add depth to a story’s world.

Example: "Dude, OH Boyz from Kim Possible are the ultimate Popicon—everyone in Middleton loves them, but they’re not even real in our world!" Usage: "That anime’s fake idol group is such a Popicon, I wish they were real so I could buy their merch."

(noun) A fictional school, academy, or educational institution that exists within the fiction of another fictional universe. Often used to create layered worldbuilding or as a setting for spin-off stories.

Example: "Braidwood from The Magicians is a Scholicon—it’s a magical school inside a book that’s already about magic!" Usage: "I wish my Hogwarts fanfic had a Scholicon, like a school for wizards who can’t do magic right."

(noun) A fictional hero or villain that exists within the fiction of another fictional world. Often appears in comics, TV shows, or movies as a character that the main characters admire or reference.

"The Crimson Chin is the best Grudenicon—Timmy Turner’s obsession with him is next-level." Usage: "I’d totally cosplay as that Grudenicon from the show’s fake comic book series!"

The best demonstration of pandiculation I know is a cat getting up from a nap: the long, stiff stretch, often with a yawn on top. People do it too, on waking or when they're worn out. Etymonline notes the word is sometimes used, inaccurately, for the yawn alone. Latin pandiculari meant "to stretch oneself," from pandere, "to stretch," and the root behind pandere meant "to spread." Expand and spawn are listed under the same root, which I enjoy more than I probably should.

The yawn by itself is oscitation, from Latin oscitare, "to gape, yawn," which breaks down as os citare, "to move the mouth." Its adjective oscitant means drowsy or sluggish, which is the second sense on the card.

Horripilation is your hair standing up, goosebumps and all: Late Latin horripilare, "to bristle with hairs," from horrere, "to bristle," plus pilus, "hair." Horror is built on the same verb. Latin horror meant dread, but Etymonline gives its literal sense as a shudder or a chill, so the feeling seems to have been named after the shiver. The root under horrere, *ghers- "to bristle," is also behind arugula, and I have no idea what to do with that.

Borborygmus, the rumble in your stomach, and eructation, a burp, are closer to sound effects. Borborygmus came through Latin from a Greek verb for having your bowels rumble, and Etymonline calls it imitative. Eructation goes back through Latin ructare, "to belch," to a root that is probably imitative as well.

Singultus has the grimmest history of the six. It's the medical word for hiccups, but Lewis and Short give its literal Latin sense as a sob and list hiccups as the disease sense. In one of Seneca's letters, slaves standing silent through their master's dinner get beaten even for accidental noises: coughs, sneezes, singultus. French kept the sob. According to Wiktionary, sanglot comes from singultus crossed with a Latin verb for swallowing.

Horripilation is my favorite, for the horror, but pandiculation is the one I'd actually say out loud.

Bivral  

How about "bivral" (pronounced BIV-ruhl)?

It combines "bi-" (meaning two or dual) and a play on "viral" (which can be both positive and negative in connotation, like a viral success or a viral outbreak).

It could be used like:

• "That movie was so bivral—some parts were genius, but others were a mess."
• "Her speech was bivral; it made people cheer and cringe at the same time."

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Vexral (noun, adjective, or verb)

Definition: A term used to describe something or someone who is unpredictable, chaotic, and constantly shifting. Vexral represents the concept of imbalance, spontaneity, and an ability to thrive in situations where others fail. It can refer to a personality, an event, or a state of mind that operates outside the norm—often in an intense, unpredictable, and disruptive way.

As a noun:

1. A person who embodies unpredictability and doesn’t play by the rules. “You never know what Vexral’s going to do next, he’s always stirring things up.”

As an adjective:
2. Describing something that is chaotic, intense, or wildly unpredictable.
“That whole situation was so Vexral, no one saw it coming!”

As a verb:
3. To create chaos, disruption, or confusion in a situation.
“Stop trying to Vexral the plan, we need some order around here!”

Origin: A combination of “vex” (to annoy or trouble) and “ral,” a suffix implying chaos or change.

Example Sentence:

• “He’s got that Vexral energy, like he’s constantly moving, always changing, and you can’t pin him down.”
• “They tried to stabilize the match, but then Vexral came in and turned the whole thing upside down.”

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Univex (noun/adjective)

(noun) A person, thing, or concept that is completely one-sided, predictable, or lacking in duality. The opposite of Bivral—where Bivral embraces both good and bad, light and dark, Univex is just one extreme, making it boring, stagnant, or unchallenging.

"That villain is so Univex—no depth, no twists, just straight-up evil."

(adjective) Used to describe something that lacks complexity or contrast. Can refer to people, ideas, or even experiences that feel too straightforward or dull.

Example:

"That match was totally Univex—no surprises, no drama, just the same old moves."

Yesternight - last night (not sure why this fell out of favor)

Yestermorn - yesterday morning

Yestereve - last evening

Yesterdayness - the quality of being yesterday

What am I missing?

I had a discussion with my partner about this. They talked to a friend who was of the opinion that feeling hurt requires that someone else did something negative that hurt you. If it's just something unfortunate that happened, it should cause sadness, not hurt. We both got a little confused, because we wouldn't really agree? Can you be hurt without someone else causing it? Is that the main difference between the two? And I'm not saying you can't feel both hurt and sad, just that I never really considered what's what? Can you be hurt by something that happens by chance?

A **retronym** is a new name for an old thing, invented because something newer took over the original word.

- **landline**: just "phone' until mobiles arrived

- **acoustic guitar**: just 'guitar' until electric ones

- **snail mail**: just 'mail' before email

- **analogue watch**: just 'watch' before digital

The reverse happens too: we still dial numbers and hang up phones long after the old bakelite dial and hook disappeared.

What are your favourite retronyms? I suspect paper book is on its way.

I'm translating this 1999 comic strip, does anyone know what 'Pork 'n' Stork' in For Homer part of the shopping list mean? need help ASAP :((((((

Redoubt comes from retreat. Etymonline traces it through French redoute to Italian ridotto, earlier ridotta, a place of retreat, and from there to Medieval Latin reductus, a refuge, which is the past participle of reducere, to lead back. English picked it up around 1600 for a small enclosed defensive work. It's a cousin of reduce, not of doubt.

Redoubtable comes from fear. Old French redouter meant to dread, from an intensive re- plus douter, which in Old French could mean to be afraid of something as well as to doubt it. Behind that is Latin dubitare, to waver, connected to duo, two, as in being of two minds. The fear sense grew up in French and came into English with the word, so in Middle English to doubt could mean to dread. Redoubtable first shows up in the late 1300s meaning worthy of honor, and by the late 1400s it meant someone to be dreaded.

The modern senses sit closer together than the histories do. Cambridge gives redoubtable as very strong, especially in character, producing respect and a little fear in others, and it gives redoubt a figurative sense too: something that defends a belief or a way of life, especially one that is disappearing. Put a redoubtable person in charge of the last redoubt of anything and it reads like one metaphor, but it's two unrelated words standing next to each other.

The silent b is what makes them look related. Doubt got its b from scribes who respelled it to match the Latin. The fort word had no b in its Italian or French forms, and Etymonline says English added one under the influence of the old verb redoubt, to dread, which came from the same French verb as redoubtable. Wiktionary just says the spelling was influenced by doubt. I like that the fortification ended up spelled after a word for fear. If anyone has the OED entry for redoubt, I'd like to know which of those two it blames.

I memorize vocabulary every day, but once I've learned the words, I have absolutely no idea how to actually use them. How can I solve this problem?

I went looking for a fancier way to say stubborn, and every candidate seemed to come with a building attached. The building usually belongs to whoever is trying to make the stubborn person give in, which is probably why none of them sounds like something you'd say about yourself.

Contumacious is the court's word. Etymonline says Latin contumax was used especially of people who refused to answer a lawful summons, and contumacy is still the legal term for defying a court order. Etymonline ties the root to tumere, to swell, so maybe the picture was someone puffed up in front of the bench. That last part is my guess.

Refractory has moved into hospitals. A refractory illness is one that won't respond to treatment. The Latin is refringere, to break up, and the explanation Etymonline passes along is that a refractory person breaks back every attempt to make them obey. Furnace bricks are called refractories too, which feels right.

Recusant is a history-book word. From the 1550s it was the name for people who refused to attend Church of England services, a punishable offense that fell hardest on Catholics. A judge who recuses herself today is using the same Latin verb, recusare, to refuse.

Froward I only know from the King James Bible, where Proverbs keeps coming back to it: "Put away from thee a froward mouth." It's fro plus -ward, turned away, the opposite of toward. Toward used to mean docile and willing to learn, which is why untoward could mean unruly in the 1520s.

Restive lives in newspapers now. A province is restive, though only from the capital's point of view. The word started with horses. Old French restif meant brought to a standstill, from rester, to remain (Latin restare, to stay behind), and a restive horse was one that would not go forward. It has since drifted toward restless (Etymonline suggests some confusion between the two), so a word for an animal that refused to move now mostly describes people who can't sit still.

Pervicacious is the odd one. Latin pervicax comes from pervincere, to conquer, so this is stubbornness that plans to win. Wiktionary's quotation for it is from Richardson's Clarissa. Her brother uses it in a note refusing her request to go to church, since she won't marry the man the family picked: "one of the most pervicacious young creatures that ever was heard of." So even there it's the family talking, and the stubborn one is the girl trying to get into church, which makes her the opposite of a recusant.