Several years ago, during an enormous family vacation out here to visit us, I took two of my nieces and one nephew down to get tattoos. Isn't that the sweetest thing EVER? It was their idea, let me hasten to add, I was only along as a chauffeur. Plus, they were all in their 30s and already in possession of quite a bit of ink and piercings. Their father, my brother Ed, claims his youngest daughter looks like she fell face first into a tackle box. Hee hee.
So, driving along, making small talk, I asked "What does 'Get jiggy wit it' mean anyway?" I was just making a joke, but they all chimed in terribly earnestly to explain it to me, obviously taking pity on me in my declining years. I would have been mortified anyway, but then I realized none of their attempts at translations made any sense because they were trying phrase it in terms that wouldn't damage my aged sensibility. I wanted to protest that I am NOT OLD, that I am terribly hip, but as soon as you try that, you're lost. Best to just sit down and watch the Golden Girls marathon and dream of cheesecake.
To make myself feel better, I have turned to houseboy Septimus Septbooty.