Noodles, Weddings, and Monkeys...-or- My Weekend

This weekend, I had to go to a wedding outside of Buffalo, New York. I live in Fall River, Massachusetts, which is not exactly around the corner. Now, if I had gone straight to Buffalo from Fall River, it would have been about an 8 or 9 hour drive. I could have dealt with that… a long ride, but not that bad.
But no.
I had to first drive to Brooklyn, NY (200+ miles) and pick up my mother. That added an additional 4-5 hours to the trip. I was looking at 12+ hours in the car with my mother and my husband.
Now, I love my Mom. I really do. My husband I can deal with. But put the two of them together, and there goes my sanity.
We started off with what has come to be known as ‘The Great Noodle Debate’. My husband announced he ate noodles for lunch before we left home. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, because I know he doesn’t shut up, but I couldn’t stop the words from coming out. ‘But we don’t have any noodles’, I said. ‘Yes, we do’ he said. ‘No, we don’t’ I said. So we went back and forth for a bit, and then he said ‘We have a whole cabinet full of noodles’. I could not let that slip by. I know for a fact that not only do we have no noodles in the house, we certainly don’t have a cabinet full of noodles.
Now, I was annoyed, and the sarcasm guard came down. 'Where exactly can this magical Noodle Cabinet be found, ‘cause I have never seen it’ I said. That was it…he was mad. He told me he ate penne pasta for lunch. I told him penne pasta was pasta, not noodles, and he accused me of being a nit-picker. Whatever. We then got into a whole long debate about the difference between noodles and pasta, which ended with the both of us pissed off, and about 100 miles of blessed, sweet silence.
The silence was finally broken by him telling me I was driving too fast, and by my mother yelling ‘Slow down! Slow down! That car is braking!’ The car was about a half mile ahead of me. I turned up the radio and kept my mouth shut. We still had a good 6 hours ahead of us.
By hour 7 I think I was legally insane. My Mom was yammering about ‘how weird it was that there were no wild monkeys in North America’ and my husband countering that with ‘the only marsupial in North America is the Opossum.’ I piped in with ‘I know of at least one wild monkey in North America, I call it the Great Golden North American Yeti’ and shot my husband ‘the look.’ I was quite proud I was able to piss him off all over again with just one small sentence (remember, I am insane at this point).
We finally make it to Buffalo, check into the hotel, change and go to the wedding.
I do not like weddings. I do not like dancing. I spent most of the time watching other people dance, and making comments to my mother. I had dubbed the Best Man ‘Frankenstein’ and in my best Frankenstein voice I was saying ‘Ugh, me no like dance’ and ‘Ugh, dance baaaad’. My Mom found that amusing. My husband was still not speaking to me. :slight_smile:
The next day we drove over to Niagara Falls. We were on the Canadian side, and I had a fleeting thought of committing murder and running off to live in hiding in the Canadian wilderness. I held myself back from pushing The Man over the edge. I did have a quick fantasy of him falling into the mist, and me yelling ‘Noodles!!!’ and then laughing maniacally. There were so many people around, I didn’t think I’d make it very far. Oh well, maybe next time.
On the way home, we had the ‘Deer Incident’. Somewhere in Pennsylvania, on a dark and twisty road, I came around a curve and saw a big-ass deer standing in the middle of the highway. I wasn’t going that fast (maybe 70), but too fast to stop, and if the deer had been standing in the middle lane rather than the left lane, I may not be writing this right now. Of course, this triggered my husband and my mother to start screaming at me, and I nearly exploded with rage. Was it my fault there was a stupid deer in the road? Would either of them driving the car have changed the outcome? No and NO! So shut up and stop screaming at the person driving the goddamn car!!
Never again will I agree to a road trip with them. Never again.

Sincerely in insanity,
Rose

Rose,

I think we might belong to the same family.

Wow, that does sound like a one-way trip to crazyness.

Fall River… that’s where Lizzie Borden lived, right?

Yep.
[sub]Hmm…wonder if I have an axe in the house…[/sub]

Wicked Blue took an ax
And gave the lump forty whacks
When she saw what she had done
She gave her mom forty-one

LOL!
I love you Odie!

Pasta is not ‘noodles’. Oh, that pisses me off. Slap the guy for me, too.

Noodles are soup. Pasta is not, unless you count bastardized “let’s find some form of pasta and put it in soup” chicken noodle soup found at GMU.

Noodles are soup? Huh?

Merriam Webster online says:
“a food paste made with egg and shaped typically in ribbon form”

American Heritage says:
“A narrow, ribbonlike strip of dried dough, usually made of flour, eggs, and water.”

Neither of these make mention of soup.

Both of these definitions are a little odd, as MW implies it 's a paste and doesn’t have to be in ribbon form, and AH implies that a reconstituted noodle is no longer a noodle because it’s not dried.

Wicked Blue: I sympathize with your pain. I hate it when people criticize my driving, as if their way of driving would be far superior. However, just because you’re correct about the noodles doesn’t mean you’re not a nit picker.

If only you’d married a chimp. They like their partners to pick nits.

I know, know, know I should never step into a vehicle with my mother if I am carrying the keys.

My mom, you see, is a great driver. She really is. I’m not as good of a driver. (Something about a couple of decades less practice and not touching the machines 9 months out of any given year) I know both of these things. But I thought I’d be safe driving her home from my best friend’s house. A grand total of about 8 blocks.

Its amazing how many ways you can think to throw someone you respect and love dearly out of a moving vehicle in two minutes.

The seat was in the wrong place for her but she didn’t want to move it. We won’t mention the stop signs (there were three) Or the turns (also three) Or getting out of my friend’s driveway and into mine. Lets just say it was very bad. And I swear (again) to never, ever drive with my mom in the car.

Sengkelat, I share your confusion.

Merriam-Webster® Collegiate® Dictionary

noodle
Main Entry: [sup]2[/sup]noodle
Pronunciation: 'nü-d&l
Function: noun
Etymology: German Nudel
Date: 1779
: a food paste made with egg and shaped typically in ribbon form

pasta
Main Entry: pas·ta
Pronunciation: 'päs-t& also 'pas-
Function: noun
Etymology: Italian, from Late Latin
Date: 1874
1 : paste in processed form (as spaghetti) or in the form of fresh dough (as ravioli)
2 : a dish of cooked pasta

Wicked Blue, you owe your husband an apology.

[Edited by Arnold Winkelried on 06-05-2001 at 07:31 PM]

Is hubby still alive, Rose?

Nope, I don’t care. Noodles and pasta may *technically * be the same thing, but it’s just not right to call penne ‘noodles’. Just like you wouldn’t call baked ziti ‘baked noodles’. I’m still right, nitpicking or not.

:smiley:
Rose

All right! That’s it! From now on, I’m going to use the term noodles to refer to any pasta dish, including gnocchi, lasagna, or even the aforementioned baked ziti.

As a matter of fact, I think I’ll go out tonight and order me a dish of noodles puttanesca. :stuck_out_tongue: :stuck_out_tongue:

We have resolved this problem in the Gelding family by the usual expedient of having old Spavined be so thoroughly incompetent that he will never again be asked to chauffer his mother anywhere. Grandma G. spends her winters in Texas with Spavin’s sister. A couple years ago Spavined was asked (ordered) to go to Texas and drive his poor old, gray haired and weak bladdered mother back to Iowa. He did. He left the sister’s house at about 9:00 AM, and arriver at Grandma G.’s house on the Minnesota-Wisconsin border some 21 hours later. Stops for gas, bladder relief and a couple of meals only. That’s it. The old lady says she is never letting her son take her anywhere, ever. Immunity through incompetence.

I’m sorry, Rose. You know I love you, and I feel your pain and am willing to SHARE your pain, whenever and wherever you feel it, if it will do you any good. I really am.

But…that was the funniest thing I have read in so long…well, I actually can’t remember the last time. I am not just laughing out loud. The cat is hiding in the bathroom. The neighbors are peeking out of their doors, trying to figure out from whence that loud hysterical laughter is coming. We have a noise ordinance in this town, and since it is after 10PM I expect the cops any minute.

In this particular instance, your pain, or at least the recounting of your pain just made my day. You should submit it to Teemings!

And I just kept laughing harder as the thread progressed.

Thanks all!