“This gift is totally off the hook, really all that and more,” I said. “Did you have to spend a grip of cheddar? Because this is wicked sweet, mad cool.”

I have been practicing my ability to “talk street” since Friday, when my wife brought a present of “slang flashcards” to our crib. I give her props – proper respects – for recognizing not only my fascination with language but also the degree to which I relish items and books celebrating the variety. The flashcards offer a killer example of acknowledging possible cultural and linguistic juxtapositions without taking oneself too seriously.

Even though (or probably because) I sound silly when I say things such as “aiight” instead of “all right,” the gift seemed made for me:

“Are you over 30? Nerdy, uncool or simply suburban? Get hip in mere days,” touts the packaging for the cards, created by Who’s There Inc. “Slang flashcards use old-fashioned teaching techniques to start you ‘talking street’ almost immediately. Study alone or with a friend – then get a load of your bad self!”

I’m down with that.

Each card includes a pronunciation guide, definition and synonyms, the term used in a hip sentence, and an illustration to help with context. The whole set is mad crunck (excessive in providing entertainment, amusement, and enjoyment).

I don’t mean to floss one particular product or front like I know more than I do, but in this case the happy-go-lucky illustrations are particularly dope (rad, ill, fly, gravy). For example, a child is seen talking to a school bus driver in the image describing “dime out,” a term derived from the former cost of a call from a telephone booth, meaning to inform on, tattle, expose.

“You drive way too fast,” the child says to the driver. “I had to dime you out.”

An elderly couple at a Jewish wedding remark how “That ceremony was totally dope.”

My enthusiasm for new ways of building powerful or unusual vocabulary is nothing new, stemming from my love of writing. A couple of years ago it was reinforced by my hep kitten when she found me a copy of “Straight from the Fridge, Dad” by Max Decharne, a dictionary of hipster slang full of righteous jive.

Here’s the D.L., the lowdown, G: Such guides remind us of the vastly varied possibilities and colorful ways of expressing ourselves. In this mindset, when you are sad you don’t dissolve into tears, you come apart like a two-bit suitcase. You don’t shave, you prune your peach fuzz. And when you get excited about something, you flip your wig or bust a gasket.

In a flash, the flashcards this weekend reinvigorated my personal zeal for such language, and I felt like I had a whole new way of talking – busting my chops – at every opportunity. In addition to testing the endurance of my wife, I tried it with the cats.

“Yo, dawg, don’t jack half my night’s sleep by meowing out loud. Kick it, foo.”

I wanted to try more when spending time with friends in Seaside Saturday, but realized I hadn’t practiced enough to be effective, and that for now I probably should straight chill.

Besides, slang, as the makers of the flashcards reminds us, “is defined in part by its ephemeral nature. One day a hot new word is introduced into the vernacular, and the next day it’s as tired as ‘gosh.'” In the meantime, “if you have any question about the timeliness of a particular term or phrase, it is recommended that you check with a teenager.”

Word.

I’ve got to bounce. Peace out.

Brad Bolchunos recalls how not too long ago, money was known as “bread” or “dough” rather than “cheddar” or “cheese,” yet either way the term is just a janky illusion of substance. Still, as far as language in general goes, he hopes to continue keeping it real.