19 Pennsylvania Words That Make No Sense Outside the State

Take a Pennsylvanian out of Pennsylvania, sit them at a diner in another state, and listen.

They’ll call the sub a hoagie, order their eggs dippy, and ask the waitress where the wooder is.

She’ll have no idea what just happened.

These are the Pennsylvania words that make Americans do a double take the second you cross the state line.

Jawn

In Philadelphia, “jawn” can mean anything. A person, a place, a thing, an idea, a feeling.

“Hand me that jawn.”

“Did you see that jawn?”

“This jawn is broken.”

It’s one word that replaces every other noun, and somehow Philadelphians always know which one you mean.

Linguists trace it back to the word “joint,” which drifted so far from its meaning that it can now stand in for the entire dictionary.

Try using it in Ohio. You’ll get nothing but a blank look.

Yinz

Down south, they say “y’all.” In Pittsburgh, they say “yinz.”

It’s the plural “you,” as in “Are yinz comin’ to the game?”

The word traces back to the Scots-Irish settlers who said “you ones,” which slowly wore down to “you’uns,” then “yinz.”

Use it, and you’ve marked yourself as a true Pittsburgher, a yinzer, for life.

Nobody outside Western Pennsylvania has the faintest idea what you’re saying.

Hoagie

Call it a sub anywhere else.

In Pennsylvania, it’s a hoagie, and the distinction is taken seriously.

The story goes that Italian workers on Philadelphia’s Hog Island carried these stacked sandwiches for lunch, and “hoggie” became “hoagie.”

A real one comes on a fresh roll with oil and seasoning, piled high.

Order a “sub” in Philly, and you’ll be politely, or not so politely, corrected.

Jagoff

Every region has a word for a jerk. Pittsburgh’s is the best.

A “jagoff” is an idiot, a fool, the guy who blocks the lane and won’t let you merge.

It comes from “jag,” an old word for a thorn or prick, which is why “quit jaggin’ around” means “quit fooling around.”

Best of all, it isn’t a curse word, so you can say it almost anywhere. Almost.

Wooder

Pennsylvanians don’t drink water. They drink wooder.

It’s the Philadelphia accent at its finest, bending the vowel into a sound somewhere between “put” and “good.”

You take a sip of wooder. You boil wooder for pasta. On a hot day, you grab a wooder ice.

The accent is fading with younger folks.

But the older you are, the more wooder you’ve had.

Nebby

Got a neighbor who watches every car that pulls into your driveway?

That’s a nebby one.

“Nebby” means nosy, prying, all up in business that isn’t theirs.

“Quit being so nebby” is the gentle Pittsburgh way of telling someone to mind their own.

It’s a word so useful you’ll wonder why the rest of the country never picked it up.

Jimmies

Order ice cream, ask for sprinkles, and you’ve outed yourself as an out-of-towner.

In Pennsylvania, those little chocolate bits are jimmies.

“Can I get jimmies on that?” is how a Pennsylvanian finishes a cone.

Nobody quite agrees on where the word came from, but say “sprinkles” at a Philly ice cream counter and watch the eyebrows rise.

Redd Up

Before the grandparents come over, you’d better redd up.

“Redd up” means to tidy or clean, as in “redd up your room.”

Every Pennsylvania kid heard it a thousand times.

It came over with Scottish and English settlers, from an old word meaning “to clear.”

Say it out loud anywhere else, and people will think you’re missing a word.

Scrapple

This one’s a food and a dare.

Scrapple is a pork loaf, made from the scraps, mixed with cornmeal and spices, then sliced and fried crisp for breakfast.

Pennsylvanians grew up on it, served alongside eggs with a little syrup or ketchup.

Describe how it’s made to someone from out of state, and watch their face.

Then watch them love it anyway.

Water Ice

Forget the snow cone. Pennsylvania has water ice.

Pronounced “wooder ice” in true Philly fashion, it’s a frozen treat of ice, sugar, and fruit, somewhere between an Italian ice and a sorbet.

You eat it from a paper cup on a brutal summer day, usually from a spot like Rita’s.

Call it anything else, and a Philadelphian will set you straight.

Gumband

Reach into the junk drawer for a rubber band, and if you’re from Pittsburgh, you’re reaching for a gumband.

Same stretchy little loop, completely different name.

There’s even a term, “gumbander,” for a Pittsburgher who moves away and then snaps right back home.

Ask for a gumband in any other state, and you’ll get a puzzled stare and zero rubber bands.

Dippy Eggs

Order eggs “dippy” in Pennsylvania, and your server knows exactly what you want.

Dippy eggs are cooked over easy, yolks runny and ready for dipping.

That’s the whole point, dunking your toast right in.

Toast, a side of scrapple, and dippy eggs is a Pennsylvania breakfast done right.

Try ordering them “dippy” in Arizona and see how far you get.

Fastnacht

Once a year, Pennsylvania goes wild for a doughnut.

A fastnacht is a dense, often potato-based doughnut, fried up for Shrove Tuesday, the day before Lent begins.

The Pennsylvania Dutch made them to use up the lard and sugar in the pantry before the fasting season.

In Lancaster and Berks counties, the bakeries sell out by sunrise.

Mention it anywhere else, and you’ll get a shrug.

Slippy

Watch your step, the sidewalk’s slippy.

In Pittsburgh, things aren’t slippery. They’re slippy.

One less syllable, same icy danger.

“Be careful, it’s slippy out there” is standard winter talk across Western Pennsylvania.

It sounds like baby talk to outsiders, but to a yinzer, “slippery” is the odd one out.

Babushka

That headscarf your grandmother tied under her chin?

In Pittsburgh, that’s a babushka.

The word came from Eastern European immigrants, and it means “grandmother” in Russian and Polish, which is fitting, since it was mostly older women who wore them.

“Put your babushka on, it’s cold” was a sound of Pittsburgh winters for generations.

Outside the region, the word draws nothing but blank looks.

Chipped Ham

At the Pittsburgh deli counter, you don’t ask for thin-sliced ham. You ask for chipped ham.

It’s ham shaved almost paper-thin, piled onto a roll, sometimes simmered in barbecue sauce for a ham barbecue sandwich.

The term goes back to Isaly’s, the old Pittsburgh deli chain that made it famous.

Walk into a deli out of state and ask for chipped ham, and you’ll be met with a confused pause.

Outen the Lights

In Pennsylvania Dutch Country, you don’t turn off the lights. You outen them.

“Outen the lights before bed” turns a perfectly good preposition into a verb, and somehow everyone understands.

It comes straight from the Pennsylvania Dutch phrase that translates to “make the light out.”

Out in central PA, anything can be a verb if you try hard enough.

The Milk Is All

Open the fridge, find the carton empty, and a Pennsylvania Dutch speaker will tell you “the milk is all.”

Here, the word “all” on its own means all gone. Finished. Used up.

“The cookies are all.”

“The gas is all.”

Once you hear it a few times, it makes perfect sense.

To everyone else, it sounds like a sentence with the ending chopped off.

Kennywood’s Open

Here’s one that has saved Pennsylvanians from public embarrassment for over a century.

“Kennywood’s open” is the polite, coded way to tell someone their fly is down.

It’s named for Kennywood, the beloved Pittsburgh amusement park that’s been running since 1898.