Man-up: verb
Etymology:
Derived from Middle English mannup, alteration of manning, v.i. (from Old English) famous linguist Ashley Spencer's new favorite slang.
1. A phrase demanding one toughen up, grow a set and stop being a little bitch.
Example: Dad, you need to man up and stop crying about the fact that our Yorkshire terrier died. Grow a set and buy something that can actually poop something bigger than my pinky finger. Also, as a breadwinner, man up and send some money! Kisses!"" (to add greater emphasis on pansy-ness, include an expletive: ""Dad, man the f*ck up"" (derived from back-the-f*ck-up)
See other entry: nut-up.
Note: Women can man up too. (In fact, most women
I know are tougher than men. My mom quite literally owns my dad and sometimes fastens a leash on him when they go to public places like the mall.) Women do not need a physical set of nuts. That would be disgusting, itchy and unnecessary.
Every so often, I integrate new phrases into my vocabulary to help me better express my thoughts and make my language more colorful. Back in 1997, I believe I was the famous linguist who spread the word ""peeps"" around the nation, popularizing the term among other suburban kids who had no street knowledge, attended sweaty junior high dances and sported loose JNCO jeans.
I've taken a liking to ""man up;"" it's the best way to coerce any male to do what I want, especially my dad. I've been carelessly throwing around the phrase like it's my job for the past couple weeks, and, as a direct result, I've obtained several Cubs game tickets and my bank account balance is looking pretty good. Helllllllooooooo new spring wardrobe!
""Man up"" was probably the best phrase I've ever integrated into my research papers, Facebook statuses and everyday lingo, until friends and strangers began to use it on me.
""Man up and carry your own bag,"" my friend Courtney said to me after we left the gym. I had asked her to carry my bag full of shoes, a change of clothes and a couple of free weights I carry just in case I want to work on my muscles on Bascom Hill.
Anyway, I was on the phone ordering a seafood dinner when she shoved the bag back at me. The man from the restaurant gave me my total, and I asked Courtney if she could spot me a twenty. Needless to say, I ended up eating Easy Mac that night.
I thought this was a one-time deal, until I was on the phone with my grandma. I was complaining about my hectic schedule between school, my internship and my hopping social life, when she interjected, ""Hey pussycat, if you're going to make it in the real world you're going to have to man the f*ck up.""
Obviously there's some sort of pattern.
I was buying massive amounts of cheese at Copps and a young guy wearing a suit and cute thick-rimmed glasses said coyly to me, ""You're going to need a good wine with that cheese.""
""Yeah,"" I agreed, twisting a piece of my hair. ""I already have a box of Franzia waiting at home in the fridge.""
He looked at me, disgusted, and rolled his eyes.
""You need to man up and buy some real wine. What are you, 19?""
""I'm 21!"" I yelled at him as he pushed his shopping cart away. I chucked an avocado at the back of his head.
As I began to place a third stack of Kraft Singles into my cart, I started to rethink my decision.
Maybe sometimes I can be a bit childish, immature and thoughtless. Maybe it was time for me to try something sophisticated, mature and aged.
""Excuse me, sir,"" I said in my best French accent.
""Can I get six pounds of your finest brie cheese?""
Man up and e-mail Ashley at aaspencer@wisc.edu.
