They stole my line

My family has a tendency to absent-mindedly eat, or to eat with reckless abandon and passionate fervor - be it out of stress, joy, pain, nervousness, celebration or even boredom, when you're hanging with my family, at some point a little snack like a snitched pickle or olive turns into a strap-on-the-feedbag gnoshfest that will make outsiders fear for their lives (or at least limbs.) And it isn't just a genetic trait. We seem to gravitate towards like-minded ubersnackers - my sister-in-law is like this, Tom is like this, and virtually all friends close enough to attend a function in the inner sanctum exhibit this trait. (And don't you all get pious on me. Take a look at the size of your asses and then tell me you don't mindlessly snack on occasion.)

When my dad was in hospice last year, Tom was making margaritas and we were eating a perfectly healthy meal. And then about an hour after dinner I decided that I wanted a nibble. Which turned into cheese and crackers. Which turned into two boxes of triscuits and two blocks of cheese, plus some garlic stuffed olives and dill pickles being inhaled by my brother/sister-in-law/nephews/mother/Tom/the Poodle/me. The next day, when dad had had a fitful night and we were all a bit panicked, the food came out again and I proclaimed, "Let the horking begin!" Horking was a made up word. Something that just came out of my mouth. It's become a family joke, and I made t-shirts for my nephews last Christmas that have the family phrase across the chest. We thought it was an inside joke. And the people at Neighborhoodies hadn't heard of it. Two people asked me what it meant.

And now it's in the Wiktionary. And they use the word in Ratatouille. And in the Urban Dictionary they claim it means to snort a lot of cocaine, which is so not correct.

I should have gotten a copyright on it. The rat bastards.