Geography
Me: Want me to bring you a souvenir? Manfred: Yes. Bring me a replica of the space needle. Me: I’m going to Portland, not Seattle! Manfred: Same thing.
Me: Want me to bring you a souvenir? Manfred: Yes. Bring me a replica of the space needle. Me: I’m going to Portland, not Seattle! Manfred: Same thing.
On the heels of a recent conversation about Southernisms and colloquialisms spurred by my usage of “gullywasher”… Manfred: I heard something like “gullywarsher” the other day: “Frog strangler.” Me: Oh yeah? Ha! That must be like a toad choker. Frog strangler, toad choker, gullywasher. Manfred: I have never heard of any of those. Me: What are some colloquialisms from where you’re from? I’m sure there are Jersey phrases we don’t use here. Manfred: I can’t…
He stirs early, then comes back to me, sometimes with coffee on his breath. His hair is usually damp by then, and mussed. He wears black socks on his feet under pressed slacks. I like to watch him tie his tie, consider the results, and retie if needed. A few more sips of coffee and he’s looking at the clock on his phone, cussing at the minutes. Where did they go? I stand on the…
My dad is a snorer. A robust Olympian of a snorer. The kind of snorer who can shake walls and summon earthquakes with his tracheal vibrations. For years I suffered through family vacations spent sleeping in the same room as my parents. As soon as dad would nod off — which never took long, as damn near everyone in my family is more or less narcoleptic — I knew that was all the wrote, and…
“Orange kitty is using biological warfare against me!” This is the sentence that comes out of the manfriend’s mouth as we are lying in bed being stalked by Jack, who is pacing warily around the bedroom, stopping occasionally to peer at us from the floor and then perch on the nightstand to watch us from above. Biological weaponry, in the manfriend’s estimation, is the dander floating like fallout everywhere in my house — dander that…
While watching an episode of Sons of Anarchy: Some character on the show: You know Whistler, right? Me: No, but I know Whistler’s mother! Manfred: [Silence] Me: Come ON! That joke works on TWO LEVELS.
Take it from me. Never underestimate the foontz.
For once I actually had July 4 off work. That only happens every few years, so I decided to make the most of it and head to Saltillo to take part in the annual grilled-meat-and-pyrotechnics-a-thon. A fun twist this year is that I somehow convinced the manfriend that he should get in on that shit and come with me. So we took off as early as we could coax ourselves to Sunday (think…
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