There I was, minding my own business, reading a women’s magazine at the gym, when the word reached up from the perfumed page, grabbed me by the throat and squeezed until my eyeballs practically catapulted across the room and hit the dude benching five times his weight in the sweatband: "’spensy."
Apparently, this "word" has been around since at least 2005–nevertheless, I am horrifed.
Cease and desist with the made-up words, oh, magazine Gods. Otherwise I will start wholly getting behind this whole "death of print" business.
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