Tuesday, October 21, 2008

The Word Nerd Sez: E is for ...


It's funny, I'd been wondering what word I could possibly use for my "E" entry when this one popped into my e-mail box from the wonderful a.word.a.day subscription service. It's certainly appropriate to this feature, for it means "the worship of words." Now, I don't know that I "worship" words. I esteem them highly; I spend a lot of time contemplating them; I have fun playing with them. But I haven't built any altars to them ... unless you count this blog. Egads.

Anyway, I'd rather play around with words than worship them. Which leads me to a.w.a.d.'s Internet Anagram Server. Put in any phrase, and it will give you a zillion anagrams (rearrangements of the letters). Many of them are nonsense, but others can be quite amusing. I inputted my name (first and last; stick in my middle name and I get really weird stuff, lots of "zenith" and "geez," and "zit"), and it gave me over 1700 suggestions, including these that stood out:

Teenaged Nil: most teenagers feel like this, I guess, but I'm no longer a teenager (and I had a different name back then: rare naked pi!), so it doesn't count. Neither does leading teen. Aged teen nil might work, but it's not very nice.
Dental Genie: I did write a poem about the tooth fairy; "dental genie" scans much better, though.
Tanned Liege: I'm neither. Maybe if I didn't have a lineage dent, I could trace myself to royalty.
Elegant Dine: I like this one. Who doesn't like to dress up and eat out? It's certainly better than eaten dingle; that doesn't sound appetizing at all.
Genital Need: That's just wrong. But funny.
Giant Needle: Well, I do sew a lot.
Gated Eel Inn: I've got a name if I ever open a B&B!
Dang Teen Lie: Hopefully I won't encounter this soon. Ever. Hear that, Boy?
Elegant End I: Oh, good. I was worried about something ignominious, like tripping on my own underwear and suffering a fatal concussion.
Inane Get Led: Something for election season!
Need Ling Tea: I haven't heard of "ling" tea, so I must need it.

I could go on, but they just get sillier. Why don't you try it for yourself? Post your favorites in the comments.


  1. Nothing good. The 'q' throws everything off. The best one was "Acorn Jib Squib," which is my squirrel name.

  2. As expected, my anagrams center around a lot of Lard. "Amy Lillard" cannot escape the lard! But I did also get Malady Rill. I like it.

  3. Diane, you should like this: Ark the purr
    Nothing else made much sense - too many r's
    So then I added my middle name, and got literally thousands of answers:
    Karma Here It Purr
    Karma Ether I Purr
    Karma There I Purr
    Karma Three I Purr
    Earth Markup Err I

  4. All of the following apply to physical therapy, particularly the acute care setting:

    A Lankier Spur - I’m sure a more painful than a “less lanky” bone spur
    Sparkier Ulna – I find this quite humerus
    A Urinal Perks – better than a catheter
    Anal Pure Irks – cleaned up after plenty of these
    Anal Pure Risk – ‘nuff said
    Nasal Pure Irk – had a patient blow out a huge wad of gross stuff and the ng tube came with it
    Para Likes Run – can we say special Olympics?
    Ankle Air Spur – close enough
    Rankle Air Pus – defiantly rankles the air
    Rake Rips Ulna – traumatic
    Neural Spark I – has action potential

    Alien Ask Purr – and finally, since I’m on a quest to find out the names of all my instructor’s cats (6 of them) and the 2 newest are devon rexes (described by co-workers as alien looking) . . .