Sunday, October 21, 2007

Whip it! Whip it Good!

A bit of background for those who might find the following anecdote confusing...

I am compelled to shout out words, be they short bits of dialog from commercials, invented words, or words that I find interesting or that taste especially good. I've always done this, my brother, Rob, has always done this, my middle daughter does this. It's just something that's done in this family.

True story: Last summer, Rob and I were driving somewhere...Don't know where, doesn't matter...When he yelled out "Arapaho!"

Arapaho? What a fantastic word! Musical, comfortable, and tastes like powdered doughnut! I just had to repeat it, and so I did.

Arapaho, said I.

Arapaho! said Rob.

On and on it went, louder and louder with the Arapaho, the both of us bellowing in unison until we hit a red light, noticed the driver next to us gawking; we abruptly stopped Arapahoing, looked at one another, then burst out laughing.

Jesus, good times...

But as I was saying, I'm a word-shouter, though a private one. I usually save my outbursts for home (in public, I whisper), preferably when Lar's not within earshot. I mean, my husband knows that I'm stranger than fiction, has become accustomed to my odd ways, but I've learned through the years that it's very possible to frighten the daylights out of one's significant other with one's propensity for the bizarre. I respect my husband too much to subject him to my full-out baffling behaviors.

Although I must admit that I do occasionally enjoy causing Lar discomfort, such as repeating "Head on! Apply directly to the forehead" fifty times in a row.

All right, then.

So, here we go...

Thought Lar was out in his workshop/garage/Fight Club gathering place yesterday afternoon, was going about my usual business, doing Lori stuff, stuff that includes Windex and verbal assault of a vacuum cleaner, when, as I was bounding happily up the stairs to retrieve laundry baskets, I began shouting these three words:

Cat o'nine tails.

Cat!

[first step]

O!

[second step]

Nine!

[third step]

Tails!

[fourth step]

[Rinsed and repeated until the final twelfth step]

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature fey holding eight tiny cold beers.

And he said, "Need me for something, Lor?"

Well, I was aghast! I also had many questions: Why wasn't Lar at work? Why must I embarrass myself this way? Why is he holding eight tiny cold beers?

But more importantly, why am I injecting a bastardized stanza from "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" into this blog post?

I simply stood at the top of the stairs, me and my laundry baskets, and silently shook my head. Lar nodded once, gave me one of his Gawd, That Woman looks, then went out into his workshop.

Another man, a lesser man, would have said something to the effect of, "What the hell is wrong with you?" or "Hey, I married an imbecile!" but Lar is Lar, and that is why I married him. He makes no mockery of my quirks -- he ignores them. Or, upon hearing his wife shout "Cat o'nine tails," sticks out his butt and says "Need me for something, Lor?"

All of you ladies out there should be so lucky.

7 Comments:

At 2:59 PM, Blogger Redneck Nerdboy! said...

We need to be neighbors, you and I. The barbequeue would be headlines, I'm sure!

 
At 7:41 PM, Blogger Editor at Large said...

Hey Lori,

Been way too long since we dropped by--and boy, are we glad we did. (Shout it with us: WE'RE SO GLAD, WE'RE SO GLAD, WE'RE GLAD, WE'RE GLAD, WE'RE GLAD!) Our only disappointment: you couldn't figure out a way to work "threw up the sash" into your anecdote. Surely, throwing up the sash is one possible result of downing eight tiny cold beers...

Love ya madly.

EAL

 
At 9:48 PM, Blogger Ms. Lori said...

Jas, if only, my friend...If only...

Editor, I've missed you and your plural pronouns! I'm so glad you dropped by, too! MS. LORI IS SO GLAD, MS. LORI IS SO GLAD, MS. LORI IS SO GLAD!

Seriously, I am. I sure needed some kind words right about now.

 
At 7:22 AM, Anonymous JennHall said...

My husband says words that seem like nonsense, but they're most ofter the names of baseball players.
We have, at our house, been listening to a song/comedy bit called "Bulbous Bouffant" from a Doctor Demento collection. It features a couple of guys waiting for a bus saying words they find amusing, like blubber, galoshes, and macadamia. It becomes a song, and then the bus gets there. Awesome.

 
At 12:11 AM, Anonymous aphid said...

I love how you can describe how a word tastes, and be totally accurate. That's a rare gift -- I'm beginning to think I should pick up something you've written professionally. If you're half as entertaining in your short stories as you are here, I won't be disappointed.

Also, you are not alone. When I get really tired and/or slightly sloshed I tend to quote things nonsensically, mostly kind of obscure things so that I sound even crazier than I would if you realized I was just quoting. I've caught myself saying "I put on my robe and wizard hat" alot recently because it's part of a rather funny Bash.org exchange, but you can imagine how that sounds to anyone around me, even if they're in on the joke.

Oh shitburgers, I've made this about me. Sorry. I do nothing but talk about myself.

 
At 4:32 AM, Blogger Rabbitch said...

I do the same with singing. Just one annoying phrase over and over again. Today it's "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" and unfortunately I've just found out that even though I work in a hermetically-sealed office (Heavy steel door, double locked, set in cement) you can ~hear~ my warblings in the hallway.

Oh ... "One day I'll wish upon a star ..."

Argh.

 
At 11:10 AM, Blogger Ms. Lori said...

Jennhall, I haven't listened to Doctor Demento since I was a teenager! Loved him to bits.

Bulbous Bouffant sounds right up my alley. I like to say (shout) "bulbous buttocks" on occasion.

Thanks, Aphid! Now if only I could find the time to start writing fiction again...Wah!

Oh, and I know that "wizard hat" bit -- part of a chat log thing, right? Where the guy totally spoofs on some poor sex-starved girl?

Love that.

Rabbitch, my house, November 8th -- you, me, and a case of beer.

And wear a large, floppy hat, please.

 

Post a Comment

<< Home