That word always reminds me of a story my husband tells:
He went to a very small highschool in a little farming community and the grades were pretty well mixed in gym class so every year the older guys had to pick out some new freshman to mess with.
The coach had an office at the end of the field with glass windows on three sides. The "upperclassmen" (and I do use that term loosely!) would pick the guy who missed their first class and give him this routine:
They'd tell him the coach was waiting to see him, since he missed the first session, he needed to go in and pick up his mastur****** papers. The kid would invariably ask what those were and the guys would just assure him that they were waiting for him in the coach's office. The guy would walk into the coach's office and announce he was here to pick up his mastur****** papers, while everyone else stood around outside and cracked up as the coach came unglued. Kids can be mean - but funny!
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