Pieces & Bits (Now With More Crude References!)

Sounds nastier that way, doesn't it? Like twig & berries or something. Sorry.

Important pet-feeding warning: If you are chewing a mouthful of cashews (or probably anything else of similar texture), don't inhale as you scoop up dry dog food. Creates a little sensory confusion. Try it.

So I see that Estelle Getty died. Supposedly she was only 84. You know that's a lie. She was 84 twenty years ago when she was on that lame geriatric sitcom. In fact, I thought she was already long dead. Bless her heart. I always hated The Golden Girls. If anyone wants to torture me, lock me in a room with a TV that only shows Golden Girls reruns, black and white war movies, or anything starring Tom Cruise.

A few weeks ago, while I was neglecting her (as I am wont to do), Katy strolled into my office with a fresh batch of perfectly-cooked microwave popcorn. I said, "How did you do that? I always burn it." She said (with air-quotes), "Mom, you should try the button that says 'popcorn' next time." I honestly had never thought of that. I just considered the breakfast or beverage or frozen dinner kind of buttons as merely decorative. I have always applied the old Thermos question to those: "How do it know?"

Laundry tip: Try to prevent cigars or DVDs from going through your washer and dryer. I'm just saying. This is why I usually let all the dirty clothes pile up until the cleaning people come. They are professionals who pay more attention.

So Jamie Lee Curtis is now doing ads for some kind of yogurt for your bowels. Remember when she was hot? Halloween? Trading Places? John McEnroe is doing commercials for All Bran. Remember when he was such a temper-tantrum-throwing badass? (For a tennis player, anyway.) When I see George Clooney touting Viagra, just take me out back and shoot me. And if Heather Locklear starts advertising Polident or Depends, please slash my throat, push my wheelchair into traffic, and put me out of my misery.

Sorry, can't quit this:

British word I love: Wanker. I guess the American equivalents might be tool or douche, as in "My college roommate was such a tool," or "She's going out with him? That douche?"

Old-timey old-person words: newfangled, contraption, (those two words often travel together), braggadocious, fiddlesticks (I'm going to try to revive that one. Who's with me?), gol-durn, dag-nabbit, dad-burnit, dad-blasted, dad-gummit (These words are mostly found in old westerns from back before the Indians taught the cowboys how to curse). When I was little, I heard my dad say "dammit" so I started repeating it. Well, he then switched to "dad-gummit." So I proceeded to repeat, "dammit gummit."

That reminds me of a couple of simply adorable things Luke did when he was a toddler. He had watched the John Wayne movie The Cowboys with Mike. There's a great line in there where one of the boys calls John Wayne a son of a bitch. We didn’t think Luke caught that (seeing as how he was like three) but later when he was mad at me, he goes, "Mama, you son of a bitch!"

{Side story: Years ago, this teenage friend of my brother said his mom was yelling at him and called him a son of a bitch. He looked her up and down and responded, "You got that right!" Ouch. I wonder how long he was grounded.}

Back to Luke. First, you need to know that Luke was such a little cowboy from the time he could crawl. Even when he was running around in just a diaper, he would always accessorize it with his hat and boots. My mother-in-law was watching him one day when he was about four years old. He was looking for his boots and matter-of-factly said to her in all his naiveté, "Gabba, where are my f@ckin' boots?" Somehow, he had learned that that's how you describe something you're looking for.

Speaking of the toddler cowboy, there's a scene in the first Toy Story movie where one angry character says to the other, "You want a piece of me?" Well, Luke didn't hear it quite right. I was scolding him (probably for spilling my drink) and he looked at me, all serious and mad and said, "You want a piece of meat?"

How will I ever discipline my kids when all I can do is laugh at them? Perhaps that's punishment enough--feeling ridiculed by a ranting, unstable authority figure. Hey, I grew up that way, and I can still function fairly properly in most social settings.

More words that feel good on my tongue: acrimonious, besmirch, sinister, chow-chow, pygmy, gerrymander, jerry-rig, filibuster, wherewithal, jinx, tibia, fibula, femur, shard (but not chard, don't care for unusual supposedly edible greens), perplex, heathen, miscreant, phallic, calypso, foible.

Words I don't like: snatch (especially as a noun), cunnilingus (why does it sound like a taxonomy word, like it's a phylum or species or genus? As in, "Cunnilingus erotica, a species of southern hemisphere fruit"), smidgen (or worse, smidge), sliver (especially when people refer to pie), compote (reminds me of marmalade made from compost), chutney (I don't care for strange fancy food terms like this—especially when they don't sound appetizing.), fellatio (This word has a musical connotation to me. Like it's related to piccolo, adagio, and arpeggio. Can't you see a band director saying, "I need you to play that flute with more fellatio!")

Reminds me of one of my favorite pop culture quotes: "This one time...at band camp..." Comes in handy, especially when a "so to speak" or a "that's what he said" doesn't quite work.

Is this a mondegreen? I have heard people say, "take it for granite" as in, "I just feel like he takes me for granite." Well at least he doesn't take you for Formica.

Best book title ever: Are You There Vodka? It's Me Chelsea. It's Chelsea Handler's latest book. Can't wait to put in on top of my 4-foot tall "books to read" stack. Men might not get this. Every female from my generation has read Judy Blume's Are You There God? It's Me Margaret. It was a book all about some girl starting her period. How she wrote an entire book about it is beyond me. It may be that there's only one paragraph about the period, but that's the only part we all remember. I'll have to read it again. My title might be, Are You There Prozac? or Are You There Ritalin?

I saw a comic strip recently about inventions this guy was working on. One was brilliant: A car that runs on human rage. Wish I had thought of that.

That's it for today. Time to forage in the freezer for the kids' dinner. I hope Katy will cook it for me.