If you're anything like me, you've just spent nearly three very...long...weeks...trapped in a house with your children. And, if you're like me and have no fucking backbone at all, you don't tell the screaming little shits to go clean their rooms or to shut the fuck up, Daddy's not got his special drinky juice yet, when they've stepped out of line. Which is hourly, in my house.
And, if you're like me, you sort of just let your eyes unfocus and you stare through the television screen for hours-long marathons of iCarly and Wizards of Waverly Place when you're home
on guard duty with them.
Occasionally, though, the long periods of Tweenage Tomfoolery is broken up by commercials...for more Tweenage Tomfoolery. The one of which I speak this morning is the most recent incarnation of the Kidz Bop franchise.
If you are unfamiliar with the Kidz Bop franchise...then I envy you. I envy you so much I hate you. *dark glower* If you are familiar, then, well, you know my pain. It is, for the unenlightened, a series of CDs sung by squeaky-voiced pre-teens who have been suckled on Hannah Montana and weened with the Jonas Brothers, each thinking that they will be the next big thing to come down the pike and make millions that they can blow in their early twenties on alcohol, hookers and blow.
It's better to burn out than to fade away, kids.
The commercials feature the kids singing and dancing around, Terpsichorean moves abounding, and there is usually one or two young ladies dressed as if they were going to hit the clubs hardcore. You know, their outfits consisting of a full-order of slutty with a healthy side of Lolita. And I look at the screen and I think...Jesus, Self, you're a terrible person.
The most recent Kidz Bop features an amazing new talent that no one over the age of sixteen has heard of named Hunter Pecunia. And when I first saw this, I laughed my ass off.
How Hunter became a name, I don't know, but lots of cultures have names for boys meaning "hunter". How Hunter became a name for a girl I don't understand. Unless you have a daughter named Hunter. In that case...oh, it's a beautiful name. Did you name her after the horse or the dog? Because, obviously, hunter means "one who searches for something" or "a dog or horse used for hunting".
Pecunia, though, you might not recognize right away. Pecunia is a Latin word meaning "money", "scratch" or "wampum." So, this young lady's name means "One who searches for money", and if that doesn't summarize the Kidz Bop phenomenon perfectly, then I don't know what does.
Without further ado, I present to you this week's money-themed Latin phrase:
Pronounced: "Cue-nee-cue-lah, oo-bee may-ah pay-cue-nee-ah est?"
Pecunia, pecuniae gives us the word "impecunious", which means "my dad". Okay, so it really means "cheap, tight with a dollar, I have a coupon for that". Interestingly enough, pecunia has its roots in an older word, pecu meaning "cattle". In the early days, after the domestication of animals and before the rise of, let's say, the car, cattle were seen as a sign of wealth. The more cattle you had, the more likely you were to make it rain. Granted, you'd be throwing cow shit in the air instead of c-notes, but *holds hands up in front of himself* do as you see fit.
If you've ever read the closest thing that the Irish had to an epic, The Tain, the entire story revolves around an argument that Queen Medb (pronounced "Maive") had with her husband Ailill (pronounced "Steven") over who had more cattle, and the war that was started over the theft of one of the cows. The argument was had when the two were in bed together one morning, and it occurred during some pillow talk right after they got done fecking. I'm not lying. If you're looking for an epic story to read that involves as much gratuitous flesh as there is gratuitous violence, I heartily recommend Tain Bo Cuailnge.
Also, yesterday, while commenting on Bev's blog, I got the word verification "potojack". This amused me because poto, potare means "I drink booze" (as opposed to bibo, bibere, which means "I drink"). So, "poto Jack" would obviously mean that I am drinking a certain delicious Tennessee Whiskey.
Poto Jack, indeed.