Dysphemisms

I suppose our family's Thanksgiving fare is as run-of-the-mill as anything else...except perhaps the plethora of pickles. ;) (Here's to us, fellow pickle princesses (and the odd prince)!)

The post-dinner conversations, however, are another story entirely. Other than the odd hockey reference, the conversation is dominated by determining how to start to attack the discombobulation that is our immigration system (no elaboration is necessary), and what game we are going to play next (in this case, Ticket to Ride - Europe).

So this Thanksgiving, the conversation inevitably turned to music, and we were musing about how although, admittedly, the Black-Eyed Peas have some serious beats going, their lyrics are possibly the lamest ever. For example, using "lovely lady lumps" as a descriptor for female secondary sex characteristics? Please! What is more unattractive than a "lump?" (Have you ever heard of anything less appealing? Or heard a "lump" being referred to as anything positive? Lumps are too-large cottage cheese curds. Lumps are cancer tumors. Lumps are proverbial peas in the proverbial mattress of the Princess. Lumps are uncomfortable!!!!!)

Moving on....we were talking about euphemisms, and how my friend Mikey was always talking about how everybody used euphemisms, and I always teased him that his euphemism was the actual word, euphemism. And then the conversation turned to dysphemisms, which I had to be introduced to, as I was (I am ashamed to admit - sometimes my self-education has rather large holes in it which I have determined to begin afresh to fill in, but that is another story for another blog post). Being the people that we are, we rarely use dysphemisms in our day-to-day speech.

Being the applicator of knowledge that I am (in the hopes of retaining as much as possible), I was trying to figure out when I would ever be party to a dysphemism, and then, it hit me. My eyes lit up, and my finger went up in the air in an "aha!" moment. "I know! LUMPS!"

She can be taught!!!

Because I Love You (a poem for two voices)

Because I love you,                          Because I love you,
I wash the dirty laundry
Fold it neatly                                    Fold you neatly
                                                         in my arms when you’re sad
Because you love me                      Because you love me
                                                       You buy apple beer
                                                       So I can enjoy the
                                                       Pop, foam
Twist, fizz
Of its charming flavor

Because I love you                        Because I love you
I look for bargain airfare
                                                      I try seafood
I offer to drive
                                                       I tolerate your music
I make you fresh-squeezed orange juice
                                                       I do the dishes, with water steaming
Hot                                                 Hot
Tamales are your favorite
                                                       Lemon tea cakes are your weakness
I know chips and salsa are your staple
                                                       I know spaghetti is your comfort


Because you love me                      Because you love me
You iron your own shirts
                                                        You pay your share of the bills
And mine                                         And mine
Because I don’t like to                    Because I don’t like to

Because I love you                          Because I love you
I reset my hug timer
                                                         I open my arms
So there’s no excuse                       So there’s no excuse
For me not to say
                                                         For me not to echo
That I love you, too.                        That I love you, too.

An Encounter with Sid the Kid

One traffic laden journey. $85 plus shipping/processing. A mile walk to the Staples Center. Opening my bag for security. All these things climaxed in one great adventure: an encounter with Sid the Kid's Pittsburgh Penguins. Look at how close we were!

So I didn't really meet them in person. But my eyes were totally star-crossed, so I started down the steps before the usher told me I had to wait for the next whistle (we were late, due to various factors). My eyes were peeled for the 87 jersey. I saw 44 (Orpik) first, and jumped a little in excitement, which made the usher laugh. "Look, there he is! There's my man," I said, as I saw 87 skate toward me. He wasn't more than 100 feet away. "Does he know he's your man?" S asked, teasingly. "He will now, if he knows what's good for him," I replied.

The whistle blew, and like a horse out of the starting gate, I took the stairs two at a time. A face-off was about to take place. There he was. Not even thirty feet away!!!! The cold of the arena made me shiver, but I was laughing in excitement. Finally, I got to see the Pens in action!

Of course, I was momentarily saddened by the thought that two of my four favorites were out for the count due to a broken wrist (#55, Gonchar) and a strained shoulder (#71, Malkin). waaaah. Oh well. It was still a great great game. When we got there, it was tied 1-1. Then, late in the second period, my second-favorite defenseman, Orpik, scored a goal. It was like watching it in slow motion, the puck gently drifting past all the players, skittering into the net. I think I'll always remember it. It was GREAT. Of course, then the Kings promptly scored 4 goals in retaliation, two in quick succession. Poor Fleury. He never really recovered from the first one and then there they were again, in his face. I could tell they were going to score before the puck actually went to the back of the net. It was like watching a flock of ravenous wolves descend on the fat piglet. (Fleury only resembles a fat piglet because of all his gear, though. Man, that guy is flexible!!!!)

Fleury = goalie = 29
Crosby = 87 = captain, youngest ever appointed at the time, hailed as the "next Great One." Basically, the kid's a whining scoring machine, and the poster boy of hockey.
Staal = 11 = the best fourth-liner around, he really should get a pay raise, and probably will after the next season, when he (unfortunately for Pens fans) will likely switch teams. As long as it's not the Red Wings he defects to, I think I'll be okay.

In short, although 'we' lost, it was a great game. I practically couldn't talk the next day from all the shouting I did. Luckily, there were loads of Pens fans there too, so I didn't get yelled at for screaming at all the 'wrong' times. I was thinking, hmmm, I could really dig this. And then I remembered that I'd have to move to Pittsburgh if I wanted to see my Pens on a regular basis, instead of every five years or so. Which of course killed my enthusiasm immediately. So don't worry, I'm not in line (yet) for next year's season tickets.

At the Palace, by the lake

Last weekend I went to San Francisco. I survived two plane trips without getting H1N1 (yay!) and managed the Muni in Monday rush-hour with luggage. Power to the commuter!

On Saturday we (N & I) went to Santa Rosa to a wedding reception. It was a beautiful fall day - I didn't even need a jacket! It was for a mutual friend of ours whose pheromone experiment finally came to fruition, in a rather flaming hurry. She was a beautiful bride and we got "their" story from both sides. Unfortunately, I got sunburnt on the car trip as well. :(

Then after an interesting discussion on the merits of the production and marketing of pop religious music (of which we found few), we alit at the Palace of Fine Art. Don't ask me where it is, because I don't know. But I know it's not downtown or in the Mission. Anyway, we walked about before the hula show we had tickets for. It was just a bit windy, and the light of the sun setting made for some really great picture opportunities. We even saw more animals - some I'd never seen before in real life, like a bittern (which N hadn't seen either) and an egret. Up close! See how close:


The Palace was lit up. The moon seemed very close in person, but somehow it did not seem so close through the lens of the camera. It looks kind of like the Great Pumpkin, all lit up, does it not? Perhaps a bit later I'll show you the bittern and a series of me along the lake and against the Palace walls.