The word of the day: Supper

Let others gag at terminology like “moist” or “curd” or “schmear.” Sure, these terms are objectively gross, but I’d enthusiastically mouth-handle any of those terms without hesitation or protection. Today’s word of the day, however, calls for more than a second helping of Latex. Even the thought of saying it — ugh — is goading the bile in my stomach onto the northbound esophagus express. Supper.

1. n. A light evening meal when dinner is taken at midday.
2. n. A light meal eaten before going to bed.

Light? What’s so light about this slip-and-slidery profanity? The word “aerie” is light. This wretched descriptor has a humid weight to it like your little cousin’s wet bedsheets. Its two, short, dumb syllables are senselessly matched, as though by college dorm lottery. The double-P pop in the center hails from a schizophrenic alphabet of another planet or astral plane; it’s the gruesome uncooked center of ‘pepper’ (but strangely, not ‘upper’). The word reminds me of a live halibut trying to breathe in a bucket of liquid lard and semantically, it’s just as appetizing.

And before you ask, yes, it does get worse. Its verb form is “sup.” What an aggressively impolite cyst of a word. Let The American Heritage Dictionary explain because I can’t breathe:

v. To eat or drink (something) or engage in eating or drinking by taking small swallows or mouthfuls: supped the hot soup; supped away daintily.

Small swallows? Straight to Satan’s doorway all ye who eat like this. Or to put it another way: I hate supper with every fiber of my being.

I have never, nor will I ever partake this so-called “light evening” meal. Let’s use the alternative word please. My post-lunch comestibles are always, always dinner.