I’m really tired of hearing adults ask children if they have to pee or poo or if they have peed or pooped. I was at a store and one grandma asked her grandson “Did you poop.” The kid said “No.” and the grandmother said very loudly “Well, you stink like poop. Gross.”
I always thought the proper term was goat-roper or drugstore cowboy (which I suppose is a generic version of Rexall Wrangler)
Not a conversation, as such.
Yesterday we were in the produce section of our local international (note) market. One worker pulling a load of produce decides to break out into song. He was going by another worker, who decided to sing along.
The tune?
Fools Rush In!
The first guy (Asian) was in full Elvis mode. The second guy (Hispanic) was just trying to keep up.
The big surprise to me is that such young guys would know this song.
Some unusual people moved in across the street from Mama Plant’s house.
A pickup screeches to a halt. Some altercation is going on inside. I pull a lawn chair over, so the guy will see there is a witness and he can’t kill the girl.
She exits the truck, and he yells at her, “You are nothing up a whore drug addict!”
She turns and yells back, “I am not a drug addict!”
Once when ducking a business conference in San Francisco I wandered into the Buena Vista Bar to taste their signature (they claimed to have re-invented it) Irish Coffee. It was the late 80’s and San Francisco was in full bloom with colorful characters.
The only people at mid day in the bar were me, the bartender, a guy in a vested suit (I’ll call him the banker), and a person who appeared to have no physical characteristics that would give away their gender (call that person red). Red was young, jeans, a shirt or blouse and dyed bright fire engine red hair.
The Banker and Red were having a conversation which I couldn’t quite hear. It was interesting to see two people who appeared to have nothing in common talking together. I was somewhat intrigued by the fact that I couldn’t tell if Red was a woman or a man.
The bartender mixed up an Irish Coffee and handed it to me. I sat there sipping the hot coffee and suddenly the Banker says to Red in a louder voice, “Well, I could love him as a woman but I’m not sure I could love him as a man.”
I paused and kind of cocked my head to the side as my mind ran through the 6 or so possible scenarios that comment might represent.
I looked up at the bartender who was looking back at me grinning in obvious enjoyment of seeing the Midwestern tourist trying to get his limited experienced brain to fathom “San Francisco Lifestyles”.
Back in the 70s in Idaho, I volunteered as an auxiliary police officer, which was a ride-along program and a bit more. One night, we turned a corner to find a guy walking down the middle of the street. The officer crept up behind him with the cruiser, both to protect him and also to see WTF he was up to. The guy came to an intersection and signaled a left turn, then did a neat flanking movement and continued to walk up the middle of the street.
The officer blipped the siren and lights, and the guy pulled over to the curb like he was driving a car. We got out to talk to him and asked what he was doing.
“I’m just going home.”
“And where is ‘home’, sir?”
“Vashon Island.”
“You mean in Washington?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where you are now?”
“Ummm. . .Seattle?”
“No, not quite.”
“Tacoma?”
“Not even close.”
“Well, I’m not too drunk to drive.”
“And where is your car, sir?”
::looks around, then does a double take::
“Ahhhh, man! It was right there!”
“Well, sir, you’re in Moscow, Idaho. Do you know how you got here?”
“Ummm. . .on the ferry, I think.”
We let him go his way after warning him to please stay out of the street, for his own safety. It was way more bizarre than my description. Afterwards, I asked the cop why he didn’t take any further action. He said “Well, he did make a proper turn signal at the intersection.”
Not eaxctly correct, but still much better than some baby word for her parts. It’s what I was taught to call my genitals.
You know how boys pull at the crotch of their pants when they have to pee or when they’re nervous? I had a full-grown male boss that did it when talking to me, and I wasn’t the only one. Thank goodness I no longer work for him, but I wonder to this day whether he realized what he was doing.
If hoo-ha and wee-wee were good enough for my childhood, then by god. . .
I’ve put your free sample of maple syrup and bannock in the post for you. Sorry for the delay. Got a bit behind keeeping up with all the USians moving north during the Bush II administration.
Many years ago I was walking through a women’s shelter which had individual rooms for each mother and child/ren.
In one room was a woman calmly sitting on a bed, and a little boy in a Superman suit standing on the top bunk of a bunk bed, holding an umbrella. Mom says, “For the last time, you are not Superman! You can not fly!”
it was easter and I went to get some easter grass and there were two 2 arfican American guys dressed for church and they were buying stuff for the kids celebration which was apparently happening the day before (how I knew was they invited me and my nephew to stop by )
and One said to the other wow grass is only only a dollar a bag … and before I could catch my self I said " don’t I wish" …
he laughed and said “don’t we all” then we made a few more jokes and the other said " you know this is the only time of year that this conversation isn’t a misdemeanor or a felony conspiracy …
even the wal-mart worker was laughing …
I still remember this from 40 years ago.
I was in one of two “Union-type” buildings on campus. I was a student.
A 40-ish woman approached me to ask for directions to a specific theater in the complex.
She was speaking in (yeah, right) Hungarian (the Gabor sisters) accent.
She was not only in the wrong building, but at the wrong end of the building.
It was about 2 (large) city blocks’ worth of difference. She was wearing heels.
“All the way down THERE???” in Midwest American.