Thursday, January 23, 2014

Lost in translation

First Scenario

It's noon and I'm in the kitchen.

Me: (staring into the cabinet containing all my pots and pans) You want uh...

Dirtman: Yeah.

Me: You know they're not...

Dirtman: So, three.

Result: I make him three cheese quesadillas for lunch (not four of the small tortillas because instead I'd bought the burrito-size tortillas).

Second Scenario

I've just watched a Netflix movie I really liked and want to watch it again, this time with Dirtman, who I think would enjoy it. He asks if it has any actors in it he would know.

Me: It's got that guy in it. (Dirtman stares at me expressionless.) He was in all those movies. (Dirtman stares at me expressionless.) The ones about that special kid. (Dirtman stares at me expressionless.) You know...the English lady was in it too and then he was in another one with her. (Dirtman stares at me expressionless.) You know...that movie with all the people in it. (Dirtman stares at me expressionless.) Remember? He was in it and she was in it and...OH! Hugh Grant was in it! (Dirtman stares at me expressionless.) THAT GUY! (Dirtman stares at me expressionless.) Oh! And he was with her in another movie -- all dressed up.

Dirtman: Oh. Alan Rickman.

Result: We watch Bottle Shock.


I am forever tied to Dirtman simply because he is the only one who can translate for me.

Wednesday, January 01, 2014

Dear New Year...

Dear 2014,

I've had this discussion before with your siblings. I think the fact that I even bother to stay up to welcome you is pretty decent of me, considering that, lately, your predesessors have been rude, destructive house guests. By rights I shouldn't even let you in the door.

And I gotta tell you, your brother 2013 was one ugly, nasty sucker. He was ugly when he arrived and he was still ugly when he left, in spite of our efforts to clean him up and teach him some manners. Sometimes you just have to acknowlege ugliness and move on.

Now, don't take this personally. Every family has one unredeemable member. You might tell us that we should have focused on his good qualities; and, darn it if we didn't. He'd be there, snarling and drooling in the corner and we'd want nothing more than to retreat to some other room and hide from him. But we wouldn't. Instead, we would sidle up to him, talk calmly and cheerfully, praise him. And he would let us until, just when we were ready to believe there was a tender, loving part of him -- he'd punch us in the face, hock a lugey at us...AND LAUGH!

So now here you are, 2014, and I'll admit you look like a civilized sort. I don't hear any mucusy rumblings or detect even a tiny bit of aggression. I might even go so far to suggest that, in light of the obvious inbred quality of the offspring lately, you are from a different, hopefully distant, branch of the annuated family? A less psychopathic branch, perhaps?

Good, then. We should get along nicely. So. Welcome. Be nice. Please.


P.S. It was very nice of you to start me out just after midnight with a commercial for dentures. I'd never seen a commercial for dentures. Very funny. We're going to get along fine.