it's two in the afternoon, so get over it already.

Portmanteau. There's a fun little word that you might remember from grade seven. It would have followed "anagram" in your text book.

It means to combine the spelling and the meaning of two pre-existing words to create a proper-name for something entirely new.

Brunch. The combination of breakfast and lunch, and the bane of my very existence.

For some time now, I have been engaged in an ongoing debate with friends pertaining to the misuse, overuse, and trend abuse associated with the word brunch.

Where I'm from, brunch is a meal eaten later than breakfast and earlier than lunch. It may or may not include, and is not limited to, eggs, pancakes, fruit, oatmeal, breads, cheeses, salads, sandwiches, juice, coffee, or tea.

Often, brunch is reserved for special occasions like weddings (Bridal Brunches), annual celebrations (Birthday Brunches), or haughty Jewish events where people wear designer pant suits and talk about the diminishing quality of the Hebrew parochial program in their respective neighbourhoods (My Bat Mitzvah Brunch, CanWest Media Events).

Somehow, the term 'brunch' has been perverted and exploited by pretty people who don't work on weekends. If brunch is really what they say it is -- a lazy meal of lighter fodder eaten in the company of others on any given Sunday, at any given hour, purely because HBO made it trendier to say that rather than the alternative -- then perhaps the "B" stands not for breakfast, but rather for "bourgeois".

My mother, bless her little, angry heart, would often be too tired to make a meat and potatoes kinda meal for the family. So, she'd scramble some eggs and burn up some toast and call us down for dinner. However, despite the IHOP inspired spread, she didn't stand at the bottom of the stairs, at 6:30 PM, still in her work clothes, and yell "BRRRRRRUNCH!!!"

She said dinner. Because that’s what it was. Not brunch.

And certainly not brinner-- although it does have a snappy ring to it.