Smash!

You are a beast!

You are sick!

The other night I was watching TV and heard these phrases come flying out from the screen. You would think, if the words were taken at face value, that something very bad — even dangerous or scary — was going on, and someone was being berated or condemned.

But no. This was not an episode of Jerry Springer or some horror flick.

It was So You Think You Can Dance.

Hearing these words being hurled at the contestants was rather shocking and confusing, since they were delivered with a huge sense of glee and admiration. It was a bit of an eye-opener, and as someone who works with words, it made me wonder where I’ve been lately, because obviously a whole new crop of “compliments” has been created and is now being unceremoniously dumped into our vernacular.

Nobody told me, but maybe it’s because I am not particularly bucc or dope myself.

Apparently, these days if you “smash” something, it means you’ve done it well, you nailed it (although that in itself sounds somewhat violent).

If you are “a beast” it means you are a force to be reckoned with. Judging from the context clues, it is more about being unstoppable than it is about possessing fur and fangs and a nasty disposition.

And being “sick” now means the opposite of being unhealthy. It means you demonstrate extraordinary skill and have great moves.

Where does an alien go to register?

I’m still trying to deal with the fact that being “phat” is now considered a good thing.

As you may have guessed, I like words. I love them, actually. I find them fascinating.

While many people loathed English in high school and dreaded having to write essays, it was the one thing I did well. Please don’t ever ask me to multiply two numbers, hit a baseball, conjugate a French verb, or identify the periodic properties of the elements, but if you want something written in my language, oh yeah: I’d be pleased to pump that puppy out for you! (I do have some knowledge of slang and trendy phrases, it’s just that I’m about eight years behind the times.)

Words are my thing, and I probably think about them more than most people do. I often ponder their origins and reflect on their literal meaning and interpret how they interact with other words. (Boy, am I a lot of fun.)

The other day, for example, my friend and I met in the hallway at the end of the workday. Preparing to leave the upper floor of our building and go to our cars, we went to the elevator, and pushed the button. As we waited, it occurred to us that “elevator” comes from the word “elevate,” meaning to raise, to lift up.

But we didn’t want to be raised up. We were going in the opposite direction. We needed to go down, to decline. We needed a descendavator. Why wasn’t that the name given to these contraptions? Depending on which way you are going, descendavator makes sense and is more accurate.

“Elevator” only tells part of the story, but I guess calling it Stifling, Enclosed, Jerky, Up And Down People-Mover That Triggers Impatience, Panicked Bouts of Claustrophobia, Uncomfortable Silences, and Awkward, Forced Conversations With Strangers would just be whack.

When it comes to our language, sometimes it’s best to just suck it up and leave it all on the floor.