Coldbody

“Why’d you have to invite James, Jr.,” demanded CocoPuff. “The last thing we need is another coldbody on this cruise.”

“Once upon a time, Sag Harbor softball picnics rocked,” grumbled Big Bess. “Then we merged leagues with the fruits, and in come the Amagansett coldbodies.”
“Water after wine,” agreed The Squid.
by Hifalutin! February 03, 2022
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Toxic wastrel

Scientist who analyzes Covid-infused doo doo.
“Old man Fauci himself praised my work on the University lab’s bug squad,” lies Elmore. “It’s a shit job, but toxic wastrel’s got to count the spikes to pay the bills.”
by Hifalutin! February 03, 2022
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Clickwait

Time lapsing before a site gets online attention.
“Someday,” web consultant/rip off artist Ernesto promises, “FabuousPalmSpringsFollies.com will wind up winning SEO eyeballs, it’s just a matter of clickwait.”
“Sure,” says Polly, at 95 the oldest in the bunch, “and all us golden hoofers will be doing the can can in our graves.”

“You see,” Marigold explains to numb-nut Fred, ”It's definite. Fiverr is bound to bring clients in to Marigold and Fred’s TruthWashing Service.”
“I understand,” Fred mopes, sensing poverty ahead. “Just don’t know if I can stand the clickwait.”
by Hifalutin! February 10, 2022
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Livingwurst

Cheap grub when the household economy goes south.
Panda lost his job, then his apartment, and resigned himself to mama’s den foldout, the smell of her foo young and her Sean Hannity addiction, bravely stocking a minifridge full of nothing but Coors Light and livingwurst from the Polish deli in Yonkers.

“I actually don’t mind livingwurst,” said Tommy, firing up the Weber on his fire escape. “To me, it’s as tasty as the Wagyu I used to love, at a tenth of the cost. I don’t have to do Noom, either, as food of that texture is naturally self-limiting.”
by Hifalutin! February 03, 2022
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My Nicest Mask

A jet-black KN95 just won’t do for church, travel or mad clubbing at the Gold Room.
“It’s a glitter bomb, what can I say,” tear-streaked Angie apologizes as she steps out of Frank E. Campbell funeral home “– it’s My Nicest Mask.”

“It might only be Spirit,” Guppy explained, “but after postponing this trip for two years I am sure gonna put on My Nicest Mask—and eat any damn in-flight non-GMO peanuts they provide.”
by Hifalutin! February 05, 2022
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bRoku

The predictable failure of streaming-related technology.
Grrrr,” storms Penelope. “Why does it have to be bRoku right when we’re on the last episode of Sort Of?”

“We’ll have to do Get Back at your place,” I explained lamely. “Our set is bRoku again.”
by Hifalutin! January 31, 2022
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no-see'ums

“How did you sleep?” said Mom, unloading the dishwasher.
“Oh,” said Abigail. “You know. The no-see’ums as usual.” She didn’t want to flip Mom out so she didn’t elaborate: the overdrawn Visa; Jonny’s tuition; her injured shoulder from where the box fell in the Amazon warehouse. But Mom knew anyway. She always knew. She was Mom after all. She was a bear.

Mike stared at the ceiling--two o’clock a.m., and the no-see'ums were at him again, biting. Why had she left him? He was a good guy. Maybe because he couldn’t treat her as lavishly as she wanted. And anyway, everyone was going to die. Perhaps it was that at the bottom. And there was nothing he could do about it. Was there? God was good, wasn’t he? No, said the no-see'ums, there is no God. And all went dark.
by Hifalutin! February 16, 2022
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