Newest addition to the Big Book of Bunkum:
flumfelt (adj.) the anxious, awkward, or aplomb-less feeling one experiences in the pit of one’s stomach after searching vainly for a pair of non-existent car keys in a pocket, a purse, or a padded piece of furniture
e.g. It was a little too soon to tell whether Ziggy Baldwinton (a 40-something, paunchy, poker-faced, pig-skin couch potato) would simultaneously be able to bite his lower lip, unfurl his heavy brow and refrain from pulling his hairpiece off considering the flumfelt manner in which he found himself a mere two minutes before the final 2006 Cow Head Curling Championship game between the DogPond Devils and the Gander Gargoyles (available for the first time via a brand-new gizmo called a “Titovator” better known as an Internet capable, video-streaming, MP3-playing, picture snapping, text-messaging cellular phone come-personal-digital-organizer); so his friends decided to throw an “I Ching” to ask their ancient ancestors from Camel Hump, Wyoming whether they should tentatively tear his place apart (which quite frankly perturbed his free-range pet frog named “Gretel” who didn’t exactly warm up to the idea of life without a bowl of barbecue-flavored low-carb chips, a bonsai tree, and a wall-mounted moosehead to offer sustenance, shelter and a fine opportunity to engage in a bit of cheap, neither-here-nor-there chit-chat).
Contributed by: Delilah Lounsbury-Lovewell, a professional paint-by-numbers art critic and proprietor of the Flying Fig Bed & Breakfast in Lucky Man, Saskatchewan (Canada).