You know what I hate? #$)(%ing writers thinking that coining a stupid $)#%(ing cultural buzzword's gonna give them their big break. Get'em an agent. And a tumblr-to-book deal. A cover story.
Yes, I know that's how we got Yuppies. And Guppies. And Buppies. And Gen X. And Gen Y. And J-Lo. And BoBos. And the Opt-Out Revolution.
But that's also how grups came about. Remember grups? Probably not. Push presents? That one may have been a jewelry publicist, but still. Half dozen of one.
Gender reveal cake parties are obviously a Duggar hillbilly invention, so blame TV for that one.
But now. The Huffington Post not only reports on the phony/dumbass Midwestern "trend" of dadchelor parties, the writer just starts throwing out portmanteaus left and right--diaper keg, dadelor party, daddymoon, hoping one'll stick.
And all for what? A night out with the boys? A fratty pub crawl? As if you're never going to drink yourself into a stupor again once the kid arrives.
Then there's the NY Post, featuring a story that, honestly, could have been written any time in the celebrity mom era:
Call them the mommyrexics -- a breed of new moms who are pressuring themselves to bounce back to fighting weight days after they've left the hospital. Squeezing into maternity Spanx after having a baby isn't good enough. These moms want to starve and jog themselves skinny if it kills them.Extra points for the supremely annoying, "Call them ____" construction that was used to pitch the piece in the first place.