Origin: Pasco County, Florida — the only place where hiding meth in your hoo-ha is considered a survival skill.
Definition:
The emergency compartment God didn’t intend—but Pasco women use anyway. A Pasco Pocket refers to the last-minute, high-stakes stashing of drugs, stolen jewelry, vape pens, or the occasional loose Percocet inside one’s lady parts right as the blue lights flash. It's not glamorous, it's not hygienic, but in Pasco County, it's practically protocol.
Field-tested in Dollar General parking lots, trailer park driveways, and anywhere a Wawa intersects with three felonies and a lifted Dodge Ram. Typically deployed with the phrase: “I ain’t goin’ back.”
Example Sentences:
“She didn’t even blink—just unbuttoned and boom, it vanished into the Pasco Pocket like a magic trick with probation.”
“Officer, I swear I don’t know how that crack pipe got up there. Must’ve been from yoga.”
“We found the stolen Rolex, a rolled-up hundie, and 3 grams of blow… all in the Pasco Pocket. Girl had a full-time pharmacy in her downtown storage unit.”
Fun Fact:
Some call it a coochie cubby. Some call it a felony fold. In Pasco? It's just the glovebox that came with the body.
Definition:
The emergency compartment God didn’t intend—but Pasco women use anyway. A Pasco Pocket refers to the last-minute, high-stakes stashing of drugs, stolen jewelry, vape pens, or the occasional loose Percocet inside one’s lady parts right as the blue lights flash. It's not glamorous, it's not hygienic, but in Pasco County, it's practically protocol.
Field-tested in Dollar General parking lots, trailer park driveways, and anywhere a Wawa intersects with three felonies and a lifted Dodge Ram. Typically deployed with the phrase: “I ain’t goin’ back.”
Example Sentences:
“She didn’t even blink—just unbuttoned and boom, it vanished into the Pasco Pocket like a magic trick with probation.”
“Officer, I swear I don’t know how that crack pipe got up there. Must’ve been from yoga.”
“We found the stolen Rolex, a rolled-up hundie, and 3 grams of blow… all in the Pasco Pocket. Girl had a full-time pharmacy in her downtown storage unit.”
Fun Fact:
Some call it a coochie cubby. Some call it a felony fold. In Pasco? It's just the glovebox that came with the body.
"Bro, she reached down like she was adjusting her shorts—and boom—whole baggie disappeared into the Pasco Pocket like it was Narnia."
"We searched the whole car. Nada. Then she coughed… and the Pasco Pocket coughed back."
"We searched the whole car. Nada. Then she coughed… and the Pasco Pocket coughed back."
by Pary Moppins July 10, 2025
A dude decked out in top-tier offshore fishing gear - fishing shirt, expensive polarized shades, Olukai flip flops and buff around the neck - but hasn’t touched a rod since that one party boat trip in 2016. Usually found far from any actual water, often at brunch, Publix, or flexing on Instagram with a caption like “Salt Life" next to a retention pond.
Common Traits:
- SPF 50 hoodie with no tan line
- Talks tides, can’t tie a clinch knot
- Sandbar MVP, casting optional
- Uses ‘tight lines’ as a sign-off, unironically
Common Traits:
- SPF 50 hoodie with no tan line
- Talks tides, can’t tie a clinch knot
- Sandbar MVP, casting optional
- Uses ‘tight lines’ as a sign-off, unironically
Bro, that guy just pulled up in a lifted Tacoma wearing $500 in fishing gear to buy a sub. Total Pelagic Poser.
If your fish finder is your TikTok feed… you might be a Pelagic Poser.
If your fish finder is your TikTok feed… you might be a Pelagic Poser.
by Pary Moppins July 01, 2025
A chronically unaware driver who sets up shop in the left lane of any major Florida highway, treating it less like a passing lane and more like a reserved cruise control runway. Left Lane Larry doesn’t discriminate—he might be a local with a “Salt Life” decal and a sunburned arm out the window, or a snowbird tourist in a rented Altima with both hands on the wheel and a wide-brimmed hat still on indoors.
Larry isn’t actively malicious—just militantly oblivious. He ignores flashing lights, honking horns, and the visible rage boiling in his rearview mirror. But try to pass him, and suddenly he becomes offended. He’ll match your speed just enough to box you in, like it’s a personal insult that you dared attempt efficiency.
He’s the kind of guy who would quote the speed limit like scripture while doing 63 in a 70 and holding back a convoy of 17 vehicles. The moment you go around, he speeds up—not to pass anyone, just to punish you for trying.
---
Common Traits:
Drives a base-model vehicle: Camry, Impala, Altima, or a beige Buick with zero visible dents (but plenty of emotional ones)
Has a college parking decal that expired in 2013
Uses cruise control as a personality trait
Turn signal is optional (and usually left on for several counties)
May sport bumper stickers like:
“I brake for butterflies”
“My other car is a prayer”
Or ironically: “Keep Right Except to Pass”
Windows always up. Volume always low. Seat leaned forward like he's landing a plane.
Larry isn’t actively malicious—just militantly oblivious. He ignores flashing lights, honking horns, and the visible rage boiling in his rearview mirror. But try to pass him, and suddenly he becomes offended. He’ll match your speed just enough to box you in, like it’s a personal insult that you dared attempt efficiency.
He’s the kind of guy who would quote the speed limit like scripture while doing 63 in a 70 and holding back a convoy of 17 vehicles. The moment you go around, he speeds up—not to pass anyone, just to punish you for trying.
---
Common Traits:
Drives a base-model vehicle: Camry, Impala, Altima, or a beige Buick with zero visible dents (but plenty of emotional ones)
Has a college parking decal that expired in 2013
Uses cruise control as a personality trait
Turn signal is optional (and usually left on for several counties)
May sport bumper stickers like:
“I brake for butterflies”
“My other car is a prayer”
Or ironically: “Keep Right Except to Pass”
Windows always up. Volume always low. Seat leaned forward like he's landing a plane.
Cop: Sir, do you know why I pulled you over?
Left Lane Larry: I was doing the speed limit.
Cop: In the passing lane. For 14 exits. With no one in front of you.
Left Lane Larry: I was setting the pace.
Left Lane Larry: I was doing the speed limit.
Cop: In the passing lane. For 14 exits. With no one in front of you.
Left Lane Larry: I was setting the pace.
by Pary Moppins July 10, 2025
A pejorative term: It's the guy, in any sport or hobby, that only occasionally partakes in that activity and doesn't know enough to not fuck it up for everyone else. a.k.a the weekend warrior.
That weekend wally is pulling a tube erratically and fucking up the lake by making it rough for everyone who wants to wakeboard or ski.
by Pary Moppins July 01, 2025
A fictional-yet-all-too-real region found across large swaths of the Southeastern United States, where the air hums with the twang of banjos, the trucks wear a permanent coat of mud, and the Confederate flag waves like it’s still 1861. Mobile homes outnumber stoplights, rebel flags are standard issue, and dental hygiene has taken a long sabbatical—giving rise to the infamous “summer teeth” (some are here, some are there).
Banjoland isn't a place on any map—it’s a state of mind, a lifestyle, and often, a family tree with one branch.
Banjoland isn't a place on any map—it’s a state of mind, a lifestyle, and often, a family tree with one branch.
Me: I asked for directions and the guy said, “Turn left at the burnt-down Dollar General.”
Also me: Yup. Banjoland.
Sign at town line:
“Welcome to Banjoland: Home of the triple cousin reunion, population negotiable.”
Friend: What’s holding that trailer together?
Me: A Confederate flag, zip ties, and generational trauma.
Friend: Yep. Banjoland.
Cop: You know why I pulled you over?
Driver: Because I got city plates and I’m not related to you.
Cop: Welcome to Banjoland.
Also me: Yup. Banjoland.
Sign at town line:
“Welcome to Banjoland: Home of the triple cousin reunion, population negotiable.”
Friend: What’s holding that trailer together?
Me: A Confederate flag, zip ties, and generational trauma.
Friend: Yep. Banjoland.
Cop: You know why I pulled you over?
Driver: Because I got city plates and I’m not related to you.
Cop: Welcome to Banjoland.
by Pary Moppins July 10, 2025
Miami douchebags pretending they have money and acting a fool. a.k.a "butt boys" or those of ambiguous sexuality.
Look at that culo boy driving a Lamborghini that he parks at his shitty, run-down apartment every night.
by Pary Moppins July 01, 2025