I've always promised to never use negative terms such as Barbie hugging Broadway-showgirl tootsie-roll-eating lizard worshiper, a brown-wind-loving pole pushing vacuum-lipped anal warrior, a carrot-swallowing poodle owning skipping little hotdog-eater, a chalk-licking lavender sniffing cheeky merrymonkey pole-vaulter, a cigar smoking giggling little donut-puncher, a Crisco-hoarding, rainbow-prancing, Fucsia Puffed batty boy, a feminine-acting, stick-twiddling parade-marching ball-juggler, a gerbil-feeding flower sniffing rainbow-squatting bottoms-up boy, a giggling little donut-puncher, a glitter-loving tail-tickling Cleveland Steamer pooftah, a ham-slamming organ grinder, a latte-swilling, boy-texting pump-a-loaf bread-boffer, a limp-wristed prancing knob-jockey , a loafer-lightening grass-tickling pounder of fudge, a merrily-hopping NPR-listening musical-favoring chin-trauma patient, a merry delicate lightly-prancing dress-favoring protein-burper, a pearl-necklace adorned tumblebunny, so I wouldn't stoop to calling them names.
I’m partial to “Turd Burglar” and “Rug Bumper”.
Oh my! In my almost 80 years I am learning new words. I will not use them however. Peculiar is good enough for me.