While browsing the fashion collages posted at Polyvore the other day, I clicked on a link for a brooch that had caught my eye and received the following message: “This item appears to be out of stock. Continue to coach.com anyways?” Something tells me Coach did not approve that message.

That a girl raised on the pristine streets of Salt Lake City should venture to the Coach website is absurd. I hail from the place that patented the claw bang and the annoy-een habit of drop-een the “g” from the end-eens of words. Coach is beneath my station.

But even more disturb-een (OK, I’ll stop now) is the usage of a non-word word on a website that boasts 140 million monthly page views, a guerilla attack on the English language if I’ve ever seen one. Especially—or should I say, expecially?—because fabulously dressed women should know better. Use of “anyways” indicates one’s proclivity for dotting her “i”s with bubbly hearts, a habit that should be illegal for anyone older than 12.In that one message, Polyvore revealed her inner bimbo.

Here’s the thing: There is the purposeful creation of a new word to make a point or an intended misuse on the side of irony, and then there is the insidious, Palin-type jackassian nincompoopery, and never the twain shall meet. What follows are a few examples of the latter, so-called words that cause my spellcheck feature to freeze in exasperation.

Schoobrary: The only way this can be taken seriously is if it’s delivered with a snicker and a set of air quotes. In case you live under a rock—or anywhere in the entire world outside of San Diego—“schoobrary” is a lazy, shortcut term to describe the long anticipated Downtown library, which, if ever built, will house a school. Only, “schoobrary” isn’t really a shortcut because when you use it in a sentence, it still requires an explanation. “Schoobrary” isn’t a word, and I have to question whether Scott Lewis (CEO of Voice of San Diego) wasn’t munching on schooby snacks when he coined a now-broadly used term that sounds more like a cartoon dog’s breakfast cereal than a place of higher learning.

Athletical: Like its bastard cousin “schoobrary,” “athletical” is a regional colloquialism. And by regional, I mean used in Wisconsin. By my father-in-law. “That kid on my soccer team is a natural. He’s really very athletical,” he might say. Or, “Sure, Brett Favre is a fuckwad. But you gotta admit, he’s still got his athletical abilities.” The first time he said it, I squelched my urge to correct him. It’s sort of endearing, after all, and since I respect my elders, I chose to say nothing and make fun of him here instead.

Nucular: Dubya. Need I say more?

Heighth: Usually accompanied by width, “height” is guilty by association. Unless you have a lisp, “heighth” is not a word.

Irregardless: Ah, one of my favs. Like the phrase “for all intensive purposes,” this oldie but goodie is fun to say, flows off the tongue, gives the impression that the speaker has contemplated his situation from every possible angle and is completely, maddeningly wrong. It’s frequently overheard during grocery-store exchanges between long-lost acquaintances catching up while palming the avocados. One or the other person complains about his boss or cloying in-laws or the options for his upcoming colonoscopy. “I could take the pills or gag down the juice, but, irregardless, the emptying is going to suck.” People: It’s “regardless” or “irrespective.” Pick one and go with it. (And, FYI, my in-laws say the pills are the way to go.)

Expresso: Do you think they’ll serve expresso at the schoobrary when it opens? No. They will not. You know why? Because there is no such thing as “expresso.” There is also no such thing as a “venti.” Yes, it takes less time to make an espresso than a pot of coffee, and you can now get it in an extra-large cup from a drive-thru window. Certainly, this is very confusing. But when you order a double shot of expresso in your venti látte, you just sound like a douche bag.

Douche bag: OK, this is a real word that is, admittedly, pretty fun to use out of context, specifically when applied to people who frequent Starbucks, attend tea-party rallies or go by the name Mel Gibson. On the other hand, it’s tired and offensive. It should be scratched. Or not.

Supposebly and ostensively: These substitutions for “supposedly” and “ostensibly” sound so similar to the real thing that it can be tough to catch the imposters, especially if the person speaking has a Hungarian accent. But again, they’re not words. They’re faux words and they’re dangerous because the temptation to use them ironically can be irresistible, and if substituted long enough, they will become part of the user’s vernacular. Say a thing often enough and it becomes the truth. Which brings me to my next word…

Nonplussed: Ah, the pièce de résistance of my pet-peeve world. An actual word, to be nonplussed is to be perplexed, and how awesome is it that the meaning and the sound are in direct contrast to one another? It just blows my hair back. This definition, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, goes back to the early 16th century, and I’m sticking to it. But it’s been used to mean “unfazed” or “nonchalant” for so long, by so many people—et tu, New York Times, et tu?—that the wrong definition has become a commonly accepted definition.

And while such an occurrence doesn’t make me very happy, it should bring great hope to those who support schoobraries, those cultivating their natural athletical abilities and the fashionistas of the world who have to decide if they would like to click through to coach.com anyways.

(As published today in San Diego CityBeat.)