I just got the new Girl Talk, Feed The Animals (YES, a million years after you did.)
It’s so f**king sick. SOOOO SICK! DISGUSTING! I am about to Number 3 everywhere out of pure joy.
NUMBER 3: c. 2007. (mā’kĭng nŭm’bər thrē) verb: to vomit, barf, puke, blow chunks.
I actually picked this up from Michelle Collins of Best Week Ever. I would link you to the entry where she officially coins the term “making number 3”, but she included a bunch of number 3-inducing pictures to drive the point home, and it’s seriously traumatic. But I AM going to link you to their Best Year Ever entry because my reign is almost up and I’m a little bummed. It’s the ONLY reason I am sad to see 2008 go.
My friend Jeff and I use the phrase “number 3” at least once a day at work. The other day he told me he was going to number 3 because he was so excited. The visual makes me laugh everytime he says it. And so: much like Janet/Rob’s “the kingshit”, I am stealing it.
Since I am stealing everyone’s vocab, I may as well contribute myself:
The PMS: c. 2008. (thē \ˌpē-(ˌ)em-ˈes\) noun: pms
Saying THE pms makes me think of a weird almost-extinct disease like polio. And shit, I’m sure some women in the 20’s were thrown in a mental ward for The PMS. Anyway, it makes me laugh. You’re welcome.
Back to Feed The Animals: the guy who sold this to me asked me if I wanted to go to the upcoming Girl Talk show at The Pageant with him. I am debating. It seems like it will be a sweaty hipster orgy, and considering what happened at the last STL Girl Talk gig, anything could happen.
Jason, Dan, Charlie the Chihuahua and I are having such a dance party right now. I might just stay home and hula hoop to this all night.