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14 Ways of Saying "Drunk" Across the United States

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Three sheets to the wind. Seeing double. Tanked. There are numerous different ways of saying “drunk.” (Benjamin Franklin alone gathered 200 synonyms.) And depending where you are in the United States, you might hear a different way of describing a state of inebriation. Here are 14 tipsy terms from around the U.S., brought to you with help from our friends at the Dictionary of American Regional English (DARE).


You might hear this colorful idiom in Georgia. In a 1960 novel, Walk Egypt, a group of Atlanta fishermen are nearly suffocated by a stopped-up chimney. “They was cork-high and bottle deep,” the wonderfully-named Aunt Baptist says. “Or they’da smelled it.”


This term for “very drunk” is probably a variation of drunk as a boiled owl, according to DARE. Why “boiled”? It’s slang for “intoxicated,” with the earliest citation in the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) from 1885, perhaps along the same lines of stewed or pickled. Why owl? That’s not as clear. DARE Chief Editor George Goebel suggests that “the image of the owl as a comically solemn and somewhat stupid bird is certainly evocative of certain stages of drunkenness.”


This word for tipsy or drunk seems to be a riff on spifflicated, another old-timey term for drunk. Spifflicated seems to have first been used by American writer O. Henry in 1902 and comes from the verb spiflicate, meaning “to deal with in such a way as to confound or overcome completely.” Pifflicated— also, piffed, pifficated, and piffled—might be used in New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, New Hampshire, Maine, Iowa, Indiana, Wisconsin, and Michigan.


You might be flabbergasted by something shocking or surprising, or by something boozy, at least if you’re in Pennsylvania.


Wasted in Wisconsin? You could say you're plotzed or plotched. This might come from the Yiddish plotz, meaning to explode (figuratively), to split at one's seams, or to die from laughter, etc.


If you’re skunk-drunk, you’re thoroughly soused. This term is chiefly used in the South and South Midland. Other drunk-as-a-skunk sayings include skunk-bit, which might be used in the Pacific Northwest, skunked in Minnesota, and skunky in California. Why skunks? Perhaps you might be as "stinking drunk" as a skunk, or because of the rhyme.


The next time someone is so plastered they’re walking wobbly, you can say they’re lap-legged drunk. Lap-legged might come from lapsided, a variation of "lopsided."


Who’s Cooter Brown and why is he so drunk? The origin of this chiefly southern term is debated. Cooter Brown might be “some proverbial drunkard,” according to a quote in DARE. The Farmer’s Almanac describes him as someone who lived on the Mason-Dixon line during the Civil War. To avoid getting drafted by either the North or the South, he got drunk and stayed that way. A Way with Words, on the other hand, says cooter means “box turtle” and refers to “a turtle swimming around in its own drink.” Also drunk as a cootie.

9. TEAD (UP)

Tea up is an old-fashioned term meaning to drink to excess. Hence, tead or tead up means drunk. Tea is a slang term for “spirituous or intoxicating” liquor, as the OED puts it, although why isn’t clear. Perhaps it’s acting as a euphemism.


These pieces of lingo for “somewhat intoxicated” are chiefly used in the Northeast. As per a quote from Maine Lingo: A Wicked-Good Guide to Yankee Vernacular, “Over the bay means one has had more than enough to drink and is temporarily out of contact.”


Originally a nautical expression that referred to placing heavy material on a ship to stabilize it when it’s empty of cargo.


Chiefly used in New England and the South, Virginia fence, also known as a rail or worm fence, is made by stacking the rails so their ends overlap at an angle. A quote from the 1949 book A Word Geography of the Eastern United States says this “old-fashioned rail fence [is] built of overlapping rails laid zigzag fashion,” and in New England “is commonly known as a Virginia rail fence to distinguish it from the post-and-rail fence of New England.” To make a Virginia fence, means to walk unsteadily or be drunk.


Also how-came-you-so, this old-timey tipsy term might have been heard in New York and Massachusetts. From a 1911 book called Cap’n Warren’s Wards: “One evenin’ Labe was comin’ home pretty how-come-you-so, and he fell into Jandab Wixon’s well.” How came you so also means to be pregnant: “She’s how-came-you-so.”


The next time you want to convince a pal they’ve had enough, you can say, “Just acknowledge the corn, dude.” While this phrase originally meant “to admit to being drunk,” it also came to mean to confess to any mistake. Also confess the corn, own the corn, acknowledge the coin, and acknowledge the malt. Corn here refers to corn liquor. While formerly widespread, the saying is now chiefly used in the Midland.

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iStock // Ekaterina Minaeva
Man Buys Two Metric Tons of LEGO Bricks; Sorts Them Via Machine Learning
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iStock // Ekaterina Minaeva

Jacques Mattheij made a small, but awesome, mistake. He went on eBay one evening and bid on a bunch of bulk LEGO brick auctions, then went to sleep. Upon waking, he discovered that he was the high bidder on many, and was now the proud owner of two tons of LEGO bricks. (This is about 4400 pounds.) He wrote, "[L]esson 1: if you win almost all bids you are bidding too high."

Mattheij had noticed that bulk, unsorted bricks sell for something like €10/kilogram, whereas sets are roughly €40/kg and rare parts go for up to €100/kg. Much of the value of the bricks is in their sorting. If he could reduce the entropy of these bins of unsorted bricks, he could make a tidy profit. While many people do this work by hand, the problem is enormous—just the kind of challenge for a computer. Mattheij writes:

There are 38000+ shapes and there are 100+ possible shades of color (you can roughly tell how old someone is by asking them what lego colors they remember from their youth).

In the following months, Mattheij built a proof-of-concept sorting system using, of course, LEGO. He broke the problem down into a series of sub-problems (including "feeding LEGO reliably from a hopper is surprisingly hard," one of those facts of nature that will stymie even the best system design). After tinkering with the prototype at length, he expanded the system to a surprisingly complex system of conveyer belts (powered by a home treadmill), various pieces of cabinetry, and "copious quantities of crazy glue."

Here's a video showing the current system running at low speed:

The key part of the system was running the bricks past a camera paired with a computer running a neural net-based image classifier. That allows the computer (when sufficiently trained on brick images) to recognize bricks and thus categorize them by color, shape, or other parameters. Remember that as bricks pass by, they can be in any orientation, can be dirty, can even be stuck to other pieces. So having a flexible software system is key to recognizing—in a fraction of a second—what a given brick is, in order to sort it out. When a match is found, a jet of compressed air pops the piece off the conveyer belt and into a waiting bin.

After much experimentation, Mattheij rewrote the software (several times in fact) to accomplish a variety of basic tasks. At its core, the system takes images from a webcam and feeds them to a neural network to do the classification. Of course, the neural net needs to be "trained" by showing it lots of images, and telling it what those images represent. Mattheij's breakthrough was allowing the machine to effectively train itself, with guidance: Running pieces through allows the system to take its own photos, make a guess, and build on that guess. As long as Mattheij corrects the incorrect guesses, he ends up with a decent (and self-reinforcing) corpus of training data. As the machine continues running, it can rack up more training, allowing it to recognize a broad variety of pieces on the fly.

Here's another video, focusing on how the pieces move on conveyer belts (running at slow speed so puny humans can follow). You can also see the air jets in action:

In an email interview, Mattheij told Mental Floss that the system currently sorts LEGO bricks into more than 50 categories. It can also be run in a color-sorting mode to bin the parts across 12 color groups. (Thus at present you'd likely do a two-pass sort on the bricks: once for shape, then a separate pass for color.) He continues to refine the system, with a focus on making its recognition abilities faster. At some point down the line, he plans to make the software portion open source. You're on your own as far as building conveyer belts, bins, and so forth.

Check out Mattheij's writeup in two parts for more information. It starts with an overview of the story, followed up with a deep dive on the software. He's also tweeting about the project (among other things). And if you look around a bit, you'll find bulk LEGO brick auctions online—it's definitely a thing!

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One Bite From This Tick Can Make You Allergic to Meat
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We like to believe that there’s no such thing as a bad organism, that every creature must have its place in the world. But ticks are really making that difficult. As if Lyme disease wasn't bad enough, scientists say some ticks carry a pathogen that causes a sudden and dangerous allergy to meat. Yes, meat.

The Lone Star tick (Amblyomma americanum) mostly looks like your average tick, with a tiny head and a big fat behind, except the adult female has a Texas-shaped spot on its back—thus the name.

Unlike other American ticks, the Lone Star feeds on humans at every stage of its life cycle. Even the larvae want our blood. You can’t get Lyme disease from the Lone Star tick, but you can get something even more mysterious: the inability to safely consume a bacon cheeseburger.

"The weird thing about [this reaction] is it can occur within three to 10 or 12 hours, so patients have no idea what prompted their allergic reactions," allergist Ronald Saff, of the Florida State University College of Medicine, told Business Insider.

What prompted them was STARI, or southern tick-associated rash illness. People with STARI may develop a circular rash like the one commonly seen in Lyme disease. They may feel achy, fatigued, and fevered. And their next meal could make them very, very sick.

Saff now sees at least one patient per week with STARI and a sensitivity to galactose-alpha-1, 3-galactose—more commonly known as alpha-gal—a sugar molecule found in mammal tissue like pork, beef, and lamb. Several hours after eating, patients’ immune systems overreact to alpha-gal, with symptoms ranging from an itchy rash to throat swelling.

Even worse, the more times a person is bitten, the more likely it becomes that they will develop this dangerous allergy.

The tick’s range currently covers the southern, eastern, and south-central U.S., but even that is changing. "We expect with warming temperatures, the tick is going to slowly make its way northward and westward and cause more problems than they're already causing," Saff said. We've already seen that occur with the deer ticks that cause Lyme disease, and 2017 is projected to be an especially bad year.

There’s so much we don’t understand about alpha-gal sensitivity. Scientists don’t know why it happens, how to treat it, or if it's permanent. All they can do is advise us to be vigilant and follow basic tick-avoidance practices.

[h/t Business Insider]