For some unknown reason, the original thread for this topic is closed.
I’ll start a new thread for the topic with this usage I created for the verb be.
I was watching an episode of Emergency! once; Captain Stanly was not doing paramedic stuff or handling a hose. I commented about him to the others in the family, he just bes the captain." 
I closed that thread Doug. I did so, because it was dredged up from a nine month dormancy by a pathetic look-alike troll.
Carry on, sir.
Ever heard of Pink? In her song “There You Go” there’s a line that says, ‘sometimes it bes like that’…just thought I’d let you know.
But then, neither are mine.
I coined “anthropocentric” because I needed it to be there, then found others using it.
I have an odd concept of “random factor” from my childhood, too–not sure if I’d ever heard the phrase before that, but it seemed like it was my original idea. In order to explain, I’ll write my theory down (for the first time, uh, ever, really). Of course, it’s been years since I thought much about this, so I’m having to put this into explanatory words which differ a little from how I might have tried to explain it when I was eleven years old.
The Random Factor Theory:
Culture is driven by the individual creation, adaptation, and expression of cultural concepts, which are then transmitted to surrounding persons. The analogy may be made to a (multi-dimensional) “matrix,” in which each person is (or perhaps more properly has) a “value” (or “product” or “sum”). The “value” each of us has in our present is a factor (in various ways, not restricted to the narrowest mathematical sense–though the analogy is mathematical) in the future values of those influenced by us. Thus we are all both “products” and “factors” in a (free and chaotic) matrix of sorts. (Of course, not all factors are persons.)
Many of us simply accept, in culture, prejudices, art, worldview, or the like, what we were given, don’t consciously modify it, but act as (nearly) deterministic factors in our culture. Such people may take part in social & cultural change, but do not drive it nor conceive it; they follow it by deterministic patterns, for effectively deterministic reasons.
But someone can choose to be a “random factor” and thus, by influencing those he “touches” affect the matrix (assuming people pick up on his ideas and pass them on normally) for quite a way.
Admittedly, not that new an idea, but the analogy, however bizarre, is mine.
Squiddles: Cool.
Zebwuh: Huh?
Piffoombaboo: General utility, no real definition.
Pudnah: Bullshit.
Heyzadood: Hi!
Howzadoobie: How ya doin?
Bubbas: Bye.
I’ve got more, but if I keep going I’ll probably lose you. If I haven’t already.
Algoreaphobia, coined by my sister, prompted by a comment about agoraphobia. I’m sure you can figure out what it means.
AFAIK, I coined the word kilobuck, for 1,000 dollars.
Several years ago, “mega” became very popular. “Megabucks” was bandied about by everyone. I decided we needed a smaller value. There’s also dekabuck and hectobuck, but I rarely use those.
I also coined the word sackie for the new Sacagawea dollar, and introduced it here at The Straight Dope.
Some friends came up with sack as a curse word (not to be confused with sackie).
Ugh. My husband started to form unique verb tenses years ago…he thinks it’s his original, but I am suspect. What he does is take the noun and add ‘ify’ to the end. Example: “Maybe we should trunkify the groceries.” “Don’t forget to refrigify that milk.”
Sounds like something Jesse Jackson would do.
Xeebrific. Don’t ask.
Jman
The Washington Post’s Style Invitational asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.
Here are some recent winners:
Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of obtaining sex.
Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
Tatyr: A lecherous Mr. Potato Head.
Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the recipient who doesn’t get it.
Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
Hipatitis: Terminal coolness. (like groovy, man)
Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease.
Burglesque: A poorly planned break-in. (See: Watergate)
Karmageddon: It’s like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it’s like a serious bummer, ya know.
Glibido: All talk and no action.
Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.
Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a refund from the IRS, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.
Ignoranus: A person who’s both stupid and an ass.
“gidagung” and “guddagin” The sounds AOL instant messenger makes
Earlier in this thread, I posted:
But today I posted this in IMHO:
My mom calls the dog shit in the back yard ‘scoop-doody’.
As in “Look at all the scoop-doody” or “Careful, lots of scoop-doody”.
I don’t know why, but it always makes me giggle.
Rose
My favorite is from a friend of mine. A couple of guys were sitting around talking, and one guy refered to a time that he was “bopping Kathy”. Another friend misheard him to say “Moppin’ the Catfish”, which is still my euphanism of choice for the sexual act.
I am forever making up words, or meaning to already existing words.
I don’t really have any regulars that I could tell you of, so you’ll just have to watch out for them.
Ho hum.
We had a fat seaman who said he was once a real swashbuckler.
I said he looked more like a squashbuckler.
Of course I instantly regretted it as I could see he was hurt, but the others repeated it once a day for a week.
When I was in 6th Grade there was a fat kid who was a Cub Scout. Some of the kids called him a Tub Scout. 
Some kid had been reading English literature and referred to one author as Robert Brownbean.
I used to have a housework customer who had a hexagonal end table (a cabinet to store things she and her husband would snack on :)). I called the end table a “hex-table,” and, eventually, they called it that too.
When we lived near a vacant lot as kids, we would often see weeds whose tops we decided looked like wheat ears, although we knew it was not wheat. We called it “what-wheat.”
Kerlin- any undesired meat substance. It could be roadkill, olive loaf, or that roast beef sandwich you found underneath the sofa. I saw the name on an exit south of Philly, and the name seemed to fit.
When my brother was very young, he used to say that things were “bork” instead of broken. These days I’ve given it a vaguely appropriate conjugation, referring to things as “borked”.