Dingleberry. I absolutely hate this word. It's repulsive to me. For those of you not familiar with this word, here's the definition from dictionary.com:
Slang. a small clot of dung, as clinging to the hindquarters of an animal.
[Origin: 1920-25; perh. dingle + berry; perh. by assoc. with dangle]
n. Vulgar Slang
A piece of dried feces caught in the hair around the anus.
An incompetent, foolish, or stupid person.
I gag as I type.
The worst part about my hate-on for this word is that my husband knows how much I hate it and tortures me with it every chance he gets. He'll slip it into random conversations just to make me feel like laughing and barfing all at the same time. And better yet, he's teaching our (almost) three-year-old daughter to say it too...
SCENEINT. KITCHEN - EARLY EVENING
The WIFE cooks dinner for the family with a flair reminiscent of Jamie Oliver meets Giada De Laurentiis. A faintly odd smell wafts through the house as she adds freshly grated parmesan cheese to homemade spaghetti sauce.
The DAUGHTER and the HUSBAND enthusiastically storm toward the kitchen for the gourmet meal they're about to enjoy. The husband stops and whispers something into the daughter's ear.
DAUGHTER (with great excitement, yells)
What smells like dingleberries!?!?
She squeals with delight at having used such an inflammatory word. The husband howls with laughter. The wife's face turns green as she throws up a little bit in her mouth.
Dinner is ruined for the wife, but the husband and the daughter wolf it down enthusiastically.
FADE TO BLACK.