Noun-ifying Verbs

So this is Borderline TMI, right? Well I guess it’s time for a mini-confessional. Be careful Jay. No no, nothing too crazy – just some self deprecating humor. I won’t let this get too far in today with you having to wonder what the hell “nounifying verbs” means. Well, I totally made it up. In my pretty little head, it’s a way to explain my urge to add “-er” to any word to name someone based on an action.

I’m not the only one. I do have one very very funny avid memory of a drunken spill and bed bouncing, while imitating an Olympic gymnast, that I apparently flung my wife off said bed and into the nightstand, and she exclaimed that I was a “fat lip-er maker”. She didn’t exactly use the “-er” in the right place, but you get my point. She’s going to kill you. Hope not. She’s probably my only reader anyways so she doesn’t have to fear that a bunch of other people will learn that story.

Without any more delays from the peanut gallery……
I’m a long shower-er. Wow, right off the bat with a big embarrassing-alone-time-story? No no, don’t get too excited. Not like that. I mean, I innocently just take long showers. Well, innocently if you’re not so much of an earth lover that you’re mad at me for wasting water. But then you’d be an overreact-er. I can’t explain it. Although I would consider myself not deeply spiritual, maybe it’s my little way of meditating. Because, I don’t really think about anything. There’s no plan, no routine. My shower stall at home has a seat in it, built in. I sit on it. The water runs over me. I do nothing. Nothing. And it’s so nice.

I’m a flatulate-er. Really, straight to this? Well, it is mini-confessional time. Actually, you’re male right? Um, yeah. Then this isn’t a big story. You just aligned yourself with every XY chromosome in the world. Congrats. Feisty today huh? Well, your “confessions” started with naked time and farts. Good point.

I’m a push-er. And now to drugs? No, no. I drive a large truck. It’s big, it’s loud. Long showers and gas guzzling Hemi’s, Al Gore just called, it’s for you. I drive with a simple rule. I think it was Newton’s or Darwin’s forgotten law. The Law of Gross Tonnage. I am bigger, heavier, and traveling at a high rate of speed. You will move / let me in / yield. And you will like it. You’re an asshole-er. I prefer push-er. My first car was a doo-doo brown Volkswagen Rabbit. I’ve been the push-ee. And I didn’t like it.

I’m a last-name-call-er. I guess I hope it doesn’t annoy people. I have the tendency to call people by their last names only. It’s more of a sign of friendship, as I only do it to friends. But either way, I call people, especially those with one- or two-syllable last names, by only their last name. And if their last name is three or more syllables, I come up with a snazzy abbreviated last name for them. Or even at a minimum, I call them their first AND last names, or maybe some fancy mixture of the two. Like, all the time. Not randomly, all the time. That becomes their calling name to me. I should make sure it doesn’t bug people.

I’m a reply-er. Like, always the last word. Not like every e-mail exchange is an argument or debate. But for some reason, I seem to always have just one more reply to an e-mail chain. Even if it’s just one more e-mail to say, “ok, see you there”, after we’ve both had two e-mails each solidifying the time and place and saying something along the lines of “ok, see you there”. I always just have this urge to send just one more, just to make sure they know I got the last one and we’re good. OCD much? Shut up.

I’m a wrong-lyrics-er. Huh? You know, when we don’t know, i.e. you don’t help me remember the real lyrics to a song. We just say what we think they are, or close. Sometimes it’s funny.

I’m a holler-er. Speaking of song lyrics, I’ve been known to latch on to a certain phrase from a song or two, and run with it. Like, really run with it, dead horse style. Fellow attendees of mine to a recent friend’s bachelor party up in NYC got treated to a double whammy. [a] wrong-lyrics-er and [b] holler-er, at the same time! Yeah, it was funny the first 200 times. The last 200 were too much? Lil John’s “Now stop! Oh! Then wiggle wit, yeah!” was over-volumized many many many times to the tune of “Stop now! Get it, get it, yeah!” Loser. Hey, that’s close. And when drunkenly yelled in the streets or clubs, it’s cool man. Eminem’s “shake, that ass, for me – I said, shake, that ass for me” was correctly lyricized, but again, probably over used and definitely by a holler-er. The point is, a combination wrong-lyrics-er, and holler-er, when under the influence of alcohol – not pretty.

I’m a menace, a dentist, an oral hygienist. Wha? Some people just got that. Man I’m funny. Right, you’re funny. Or you’re not. It’s one or the other.

I’m not an innocent nightstand-er. Speaking of alcohol. I’ve been known……..over-imbibing : nightstand : me : 4:00am. You do the math. I’ll get some Clorox wipes. Nightstands are not toilets.