Gainsaying.

I'd be sweating bullets too if I found myself at a Blink 182 concert in matching t-shirts with my boyfriend, who I'd be in denial about his homosexual interests, and friend who I'd be in denial about taking her serious as a person. It seems like it'd be a lot of pressure.

Jabot.

I'm a huge sunglasses fancier mostly because of their nostalgic iconship. So, my tolerance of excessiveness in design is pretty high. Also, they protect your
eyes from the sun! (watch Corrina, Corrina)

This is it though, when the frame mass has more than doubled the actual shade. We don't reside that close to the sun. We also don't live amongst a permanent eclipse.
Put the shades away batman, collars downs kids.

Omission.

Elevator rides are incredibly awkward as it is. It's even more awkward when someone forgot their kid in the elevator. Everyone looks at each other like their all careless parents until they realize that they're the only one left in the elevator with the kid. Eeeeeeek.

Yabba-dabba-don't.

Technology bewilders me. I can't tell if it's bringing us down or making us a better, more advanced society, I suppose it depends on the individual.
The Flinstone's had some interesting commentary on technology.
A woolly mammoth for a shower, a bird carving on a stone tablet as an instant photo.
As fun and wacky as all that sounds, why would you ever find the attire of cave people appealing? Like saying primitive is the new black.

Balmy.

Good grief, I hope that this is an update of Grease the musical.

Coulrophobia.

The phobia of clowns I think went on the rise when Stephen King's "IT" came out and there was that portion of kids that saw it when they were just a little too young. Can you imagine having to say "sorry I'm late guys, my therapy session for my clown phobia ran a little behind"?

Pannychous.

I'm surprised redheads are not a more naturally nocturnal breed being pale skinned and all. Then, again it would be unfortunate because redheads would be the ones who would then gravitate towards graveyard shift jobs and later down the road we have an issue of class on our hands.

Itinerary detour.

I think this may be what my parents had in mind when raising me.
A good looking, wholesome, girl scout who just drinks orange juice when she hangs out with friends.
Things kind of went the other way.
Though I did find the orange juice, it had been hiding in the vodka.

Cabalistic.

Law offices of Johnston & Johnston's brand spanken new intern. He knows how to make every drink in the book and he makes a mean Singapore Sling. While he makes it he'll tell you about his adventures with Bobby Fischer when they were roomates in Whitehorse, Yukon and that was all Bobby wanted to drink. Why wouldn't you hire this guy. We call him Basil.

Despotize.

No, it's no ones fault Kathy Griffin threw up and then Criss Angel whispered to it and it showed up at the party and won't stop talking about hair in 2012. If you ask me it was a complete fluke.

Consternation.

How long are you required to stay at a crazy acquaintances birthday party? This is the question you may ask your friend who graciously agrees to attend with you.
The answer is....
they decide.

Inapropos.

What are you supposed to carry in one of these? I can tell you now, not spare change or other rubber objects. It would be so embarrassing and cumbersome when you need one more quarter for the meter and it takes you three minutes to wedge it out of one of those spike things. There's your other problem every time you reach your hand in the bag your fingers get caught in what look like sore cow utters. The designer of this bag must have some terribly vexing issues.

Seraphic.

My, isn't teenage love just darling.

Jibing.

I find it unwise when people just set themselves up for disaster.
If you've got red hair why on god's great earth would you grow those russet locks into a mullet. You're just begging for ridicule.
Oh, it's ironic you say? Well , then that changes everything because, no one's going to make fun of you because you're ironically growing your red hair into a mullet. Let me know how that job interview goes.

Quixotic.

If it helps to have an imaginary friend to cope with your companionable syndrome go for the gold. But if you have to pull your imaginary friend's bike around everywhere for him, maybe it's time you find a better imaginary friend. Because sooner or later you'll find yourself loaning money to and running errands for your imaginary friend and that's not what imaginary friends are for.