By Cold, and by a kinde of Frescour (as we now-a-days speak).
Bacon’s Life & D. (1627)

OED says noun, but there are some wonderful ways to use it as an adjective as well.

The first four letters of frescour are the same as those in fresh for a reason. Frescura is Italian for “having the quality of freshness.” Frescour is something so fresh that it’s cool. It’s like biting into a fresh cold cucumber. Frescour seems to carry with it the meaning of “crisp” as in a crisp cucumber, but frescour has the lovely coupling of texture and temperature.

Now say “frescour cucumber” ten times fast.

This morning was a rather frescour morning. Fall has finally started; the days are getting colder, the clouds stay in the sky longer, the ugly-sweater-gift-from-last-Christmas is making appearances. The weather channel says it’ll be a frigorific 57°F tonight (very cold for those who have only ever lived in Southern California). Brrrr!

A sort of meditation on future airgonation, supposing that it will not only be perfected, but will depose navigation.
Letters, Horace Walpole (1784)

One who travels by hot-air-balloon is (also used by to Walpole) an airgonaut. Airgonauts airgonate just as astronauts astronate. Have you been astronating lately?

There’s probably not a whole lot of use for this word (airgonauts, please prove me wrong!) but it’ll be a fun one to pull out of your wordsack when next you go ballooning. What do people call themselves when they go in balloons as a hobby or for work? Ballooner, Balloonist, Balloonie, Bologna?

Don’t confuse hot air balloons with cold air balloons. One of those won’t get you very far. Horace Walpole says above that he thinks air travel will eventually replace sea travel. O, his prophetic soul! Do you think he could have predicted the internet’s vast supply of adult content? I think not.

He had an handsome man-case, and better it had been empty with weakness, than (as it was) ill-fitted with viciousness.
The church-history of Britain, Thomas Fuller (1655)

Hey there Thomas Fuller, are you eying someone’s man-case? You sly devil, you.

No, it’s not a suitcase that’s just for men (following the man-bag pattern). But man-case means body? For seriouslyness? That sounds all kinds of ostrobogulatory. No matter how you parse it, it’s an odd term. The man is the body so the body is the man-case? Is the body the man or is the man IN the body?

I love man-words but this one is too mangled for my taste. Maybe we should find a new meaning for man-case. Any suggestions? I’m sure you can manage to think of one.

It was long enough to demonstrate even to Protestant Hibernophobes that his system was the right one.
Temple Bar Magazine (1889)

It looks like hibernophobe means someone who is afraid of hibernating, but that’s absurd. Sleeping is the best thing ever!

Hiberno- refers to Ireland; Hibernology is the study of Irish history. And a hibernaculum is a place where something sleeps for the winter. So a hibernohibernaculum is a place in Ireland where one hibernates. It could be a name for a chain of hotels in Ireland!

If you know any hibernophobes don’t hesitate to try to quell their fears. There are plenty of better things to be afraid of. Ireland has given us many great things! Like, um… leprechauns… potatoes… the color green…

Sovereigns and their courtiers were flattered by the degradation of nature and the impossibilification of a pretended virtue.
Literary Remains, Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1818)

The addition of glasses in high school let to the impossibilification of me getting a date. But that time has passed. Or has it? I’m running a website for Pete’s sake! Whoever Pete is.

I can see this word becoming popular (with your help). There are plenty of impossibilifying circumstances happening all the time keeping people from achieving goals: falling down, dying and not having any quarters left, getting frozen in carbonite, etc.

Do you have more examples of an impossibilification? Or do you want to go out on a date? Leave a comment!

… a distressing pathological condition in which the thighs are suppressed and the buttocks spring directly from behind the knees, aptly described in Steiss’s nosonomy as Panpygoptosis.
Murphy, Samuel Beckett (1938)

This condition is also known as Duck’s Disease. There’s nothing to be ashamed about if you have it… if you’re a duck.

Now it’s not a nice thing to make fun of someone because of their physical features. So if you’re trying to be really mean, you’re on the right track. Some one, or thing, that has very short legs can be said to have panpygoptosis.

If the target of your insult reads this blog, they will be offended because the meaning is known. If they don’t read this blog, they will be offended because the meaning is unknown. Looks like panpygoptosis is a a guaranteed offender.

Perhaps you could use a form of this word for less offensive purposes. “Do you have a chair that’s less panpygoptossicky? I’m basically sitting on the ground.”

Here a large puff and blow, and a swabification of the white handkerchief, while the congregation blow a flourish of trumpets.
Tom Cringle’s log, Michael Scott (1833)

My floor is in dire need of a swabification. Really. It’s not clean at all. Though what will happen (due to lack of a real mop) is probably closer to swifferification.

Thinking about this word made my realize how silly the word swab is. Say it a few times. Swab swab swab swab swab. Fun, right?

Alright, enough fun. Now it’s time to go swabificate the floor. I’m now a swabificator, the hallway will be the first swabificatee. What should I do after I have swabificated?

O, the Pope could dispense with his Cardinalate, and his achage, and his breakage.
Queen Mary, Lord Alfred Tennyson (1878)

My stomache, dude, major achage. I did a little Googling to see if this word is actually in usage… not really. Sure it’s a nonce-word according to the OED, but some of these words sound like slang that the young folks are using. I saw a couple uses spelled “acheage” but not a whole lot as it is listed in the dictionary.

I thought it would be more common. The “-age” (as in blockage, baggage, plumage) ending isn’t all that rare. I was wrong. I admit it. I had a thought and it was incorrect. I apologize. I’ll try to never be wrong ever again.

Consider using this word the next time you need to call in sick. “Sorry, can’t come to work today. I have some achage in or around my epididymis.”

Mineralogists, astronomers, ornithologists, and lousologists.
A memoir by Lady Holland, Sydney Smith (1835)

Of all the disrespected professions, lousologists are at the top of the list. Or perhaps the bottom. No one else devotes themselves so selflessly to the study of a creature that the rest of the world is trying to kill.

But seriously folks, it’s a seriously serious problem. Make sure to check yourself and your children for lice as often as humanly possible.

I think you know how much I love name-calling… this is a great word to use for that noble purpose. Call someone a lousologist, not because they study lice (who the heck does that anyway?), but because you don’t care what they do!

It might also be a good one to use when you meet people at a bar and need something silly to talk about. “What do I do? Oh, I’m a lousologist.”

His Bishop [Bp. Wren], that great Thesmophilist.
A discourse of proper sacrifice, Sir Edward Dering (1644)

Who among you loves law? Or any laws in particular?  … No one? How unexpected. I don’t even think most lawyers are thesmophilists. They know law because it’s their job, but love it? Nah.

Feel free to prove me wrong, I’m basing my comments on guesses and nothing else.

Thesmophilist could be easily used as a pejorative term. You know how much I love name-calling. Teach this one to your kids. “Okay honey, when the hall monitor threatens to tell on you, you just call him a dirty poo-poo thesmophilist and run away.”