...& I like snatch...

I just love all the little language differences that crop up when English isn’t someone’s first language. A while back, when people used to say folks were talking “smack” about you, a friend from France heard the term & thought she had it down. She decided to use her new lingo when we were having a chat with some other folks and things got a bit heated - the lovely French lass said she didn’t want to hear people going around talking snap about her. So close, yet so far…

I was in my friends car as we all drove to see Shrek 2, and he was playing a song by the A*Teens, “Perfect Match”. Well, one line of this sugary pop confection is, and I kid you not, “& I like Snatch.” To be fair, it’s a song of comparisons and the full lyric is “You like Grease & I like Snatch” (delivered sincerely with angelic vocals by the boys of the band), so they’re contrasting those two films – however, it still didn’t stop us from giggling away like 12 year olds, & we’ve been repeating the line ad nauseam forgetting that some of our other friends don’t listen to pop & are quite shocked to hear this.

Of course, Snatch isn’t slang in quite a few other places, but I’m thinking that’s probably the line that will prevent Clear Channel from broadcasting the tune on the airwaves over here.

Now go talk some snap.

I really love your lisp...

I was at the gym, working out. This is where I curse my polite new Zealand upbringing. A guy wheels past in his wheel chair, and smiles. Being a nice person, I smile back and go on with my set.

He stops, wheels back, performs a 180 and is now facing me, sitting down. He says “hi”, and I, in return, as you do, said “hi” back. Well, pleasantry ensues, and I’m not sure where to look, so I maintain eye contact, and try to keep the conversation light while exercising, which is no mean feat while lifting heavy weights.

I then heard, perhaps, the most offensive pick up line I’ve *E-V-E-R* heard. “I really love your lisp.” This, I’m sure, was meant in a sweet way. But for me, it just brings to mind sound bites of Cindy Brady saying things like “Missssssta Dietmyer, Issssss jussssssst dropped my ball in your yard.” & “Hey Marssssssha, wait up for me pleassssssse.”

Now, if this had been anyone else, my riot act side would have come out. New Zealanders, while polite, also have a natural tendency towards sarcasm, and I’ve been known to cut people down at 30 feet – BUT – none of those folks have had a handicapped sign hanging from their rear view mirror. So I ended up allowing him to roll me to my car.

I guess the lesson here is, next time, they can be missing an appendage & I’ll let them have it.

100% butter

Mothers, we wouldn’t be here without them. I was just thinking about a visit from my Mum from a year or so ago.

As I’ve gotten older and have been purchasing my own groceries, I’ve tended towards the more natural/100% whole food type items. When I buy juice I like 100% juice products. I don’t buy soda (to which my friends can testify, much to their annoyance when they’re at my house), and I normally purchase a vegan spread.

My Mum is really old school when it comes to food, and is sure that everything everywhere should cost what it does in New Zealand. She is often pleasantly surprised by some of the items for sale in the US, and has told me on three separate occasions (in person, in writing & a late midnight call) that if I’m running low on cash, for just 99 cents I can get a wonderful baked potato from Wendy’s – a nutritious meal at an unbelievable steal.

We were shopping for her stay with me at Trader Joes. We couldn’t purchase the bread there as it was “too expensive.” She didn’t understand why I wanted to purchase milk from cows not treated with bovine growth formula. Then I was mentioning the spread that I purchase, but said that we’d get something different for her she exclaimed that the butter here looked sick. (Admittedly, New Zealand butter is a vibrant bright yellow when compared to the pale , lackluster yellow you find here.)

So, I picked up a Swedish whipped butter spread, which I thought had a nice yellow butter pictured on the label. She grabbed it from my hands & I thought I may have picked a winner, however this was not to be, Instead she flips it over & exclaims “OH NO! We’re not purchasing this, the main ingredient is water! I’m couldn’t pay over $2 for a spread that’s made from water.”

We left, without bread, without butter, but with me wishing I’d just done the shopping before she arrived.

You don't know me but...

I was at the San Diego airport waiting for a friends flight to arrive. At the airport, folks that are arriving land and alight from the craft on the 2nd story of the terminal, as they approach baggage claim you see them walking through a glass covered corridor until they reach the down escalator which delivers the folks to the arms of all the relatives gathered there to greet them. Or into the arms of the greeter/driver assigned to meet them.

One such greeter had a sign with the name “SAKURA NAKAMORA” printed in large block letters. He prominently featured his sign when any unattended Asian woman made the decent from the glass corridor.

A cute Asian girl arrived at the baggage claim level, looked around for her friends and then stood to one side obviously waiting for her friends to show up. I see greeters eyes swivel towards her, he waggles his sign trying to catch her attention. She notices the sign and lets her eyes slide past him, then begins “obviously” looking for her no show companions - body language saying the kind of thing you do when you’re out by your self at a club – “my friends are supposed to be here”, “hmm, is that the time? Maybe they’re late, but I’m not here alone.”

Greeter looks back up at the folks coming through the corridor and down the escalator, and, I’m guessing that as he saw no Asians coming his way pushes him to begin taking small doll steps towards the only unattached Asian woman he can spot in the airport.

By this time I’m enthralled, Greeter hasn’t said a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g, but it’s obvious he thinks the girl is Ms. Nakamora, while it’s clear to me that she is going out of her way to non-verbally tell him she isn’t.

Greeter’s sidling steps finally brought him right up to the girl, and then he shakes his sign again, wiggling it from side to side, I’m not sure why he thought this would help, but, the girl turns to him, looks him in the eye & says “No.” Then she marches off to the other side of the escalator to wait for her friends.

I wonder if Ms. Nakamura ever arrived...

Hot travel tips.

Ok, my friend PC works in the Travel Insurance industry. In fact, his actual title is “Director of Direct Marketing & Sales”, in addition to this, he’s also a Certified Travel Agent.

Now, having such an esteemed title, agent certification, and position not only includes great responsibility, but great opportunities as well. One such opportunity presented itself last year, when he was invited to be the “celebrity speaker” on an Internet radio show regarding travel.

The first sign of a problem was when they listed him on their website with the title of “Dr” David Craychee. Things went down hill from there, my favorite part though is the following – in the final moments of the show, the host asked “Dr. Craychee” for some good advice travelers could use when they travel.

Dr. David, after only a moments hesitation, goes on to recommend the following: “When you’re traveling alone and ordering room service for breakfast, don’t order just one meal, order two! That way, if people are looking at the orders left out for room service they think two people are staying in the room, not just one, plus if it’s a business trip you could expense it to the company.”

This, dear readers was the advice of a Certified Travel Agent, Director of Direct Marketing and Sales and sometimes know-it-all. Not advice about making sure you have a packing list, photograph the belongings you suitcase in case you need to file an insurance claim if they’re damaged or stolen while on your trip, not obtain timers for your lights while you’re away, not even have your mail picked up if you’re not having it stopped. No, none of these, not even the famous Jennifer Saunders line “You can never have enough hats, gloves and shoes”, but “eat for two & expense it to your company.”

Are there are a lot of people that circulate through hotel rooms looking at room service orders that make this sort of deception necessary? Would this really work? I think it just goes to show, that even if you see CTA after your travel agents name, it doesn’t necessarily mean that they know what they’re doing.

My ultimate hope is that Dr. PorkChop will one day compile all of his helpful hints like this in one large volume, perhaps updated on a quarterly basis so we can all benefit from his travel advice. What else might be in there? When making dinner reservations on your trip, make them for a party of four if you’re traveling alone so that the maitre d doesn’t think you’re a total friendless loser. If you’re traveling to a snowy city, set up an appointment for a Brazilian wax the week before, so you can feel tropical the whole time you’re in the cold!

I hate modern

Just back from a dance recital - gotta support ya friends, but it did bring me to the realization that I'm not a huge fan of modern dance!

Whay funny is...

I was noticing on one of the "news" websites an article that had the headline posing the question - "what makes something funny?"
An interesting question, as it sparked a memory for me - I remembered (while I was driving today) that when I was about 6 or 7 my brother and I used to collapse in fits of giggles when we'd turn on the windscreen wipers while the car was off, so that when our Dad got in & turned on the car they'd start up. I mean really, what's funny about that now? But back then, there was almost nothing funnier than windscreen wipers starting when they shouldn't. Then again, I guess my humor hasn't progressed too much...

Learning something new, everyday...

Something came to mind that I thought I’d share, as Dena (www.outshined.com) commented that she really enjoyed the PorkChop story.
Many years ago now, in a world not as cynical as today, Dena, PC (see the previous post) & I were driving to help a friend move out of Riverside. Or was it Fallbrook? I forget, but the point being, those are both places you’d want to move from if you lived there. So, we’re in Dena’s red car on our way to said friends (in Fallside/Riverbrook) discussing things, as people do.
This might have been the time that Dena revealed she’d traded the gold fillings in her teeth for 2nd row BackStreet Boys tickets in Las Vegas, I don’t recall, but I do recall the following…
PC, for some strange reason, has always been a great admirer of the more salient assets of the female figure - commented to me that Dena had “quite big tits.”
Dena had a small car, candy apple red, no AC, and that San Diego summer day was hotter than usual so the windows were down and the air was ripping through the cars innards as we traversed up the 15 at 90 MPH.
In something not unlike a special effect from the original Exorcist, Dena turns her head right round on her neck, glowers and with a voice which might have made Satan tremble (as it started low and terrifying until it built to a roar at the end of her statement) said “I - am - NOT - A - DITZ!!!”
Needless to say, I was speechless, and a mite frightened, as Dena was no longer looking at the road, but trying to skewer us through with her vision. Visions of us plowing off the 15 into Lawrence Welk scattering old people before us was a big possibility at that moment.
PC quickly mentioned that he hadn’t actually called her a ditz, rather, had said she had big tits.
Well, it was as though you’d handed a five year old a lollypop behind his mothers back, as apparently this was quite ok. Quick as a summer shower Dena, now pleased as punch, turned her attention back to road with a beaming smile, saying, “OH! That’s ok then.”
Which goes to show, some folks would rather have big tits than ever be thought of as a ditz.

PorkChop *NOT* DOC

Here's a muleish friend's blog - http://doctalkrocks.blogspot.com/ - check it out. He may try to be rebranding himself as DOC, but he'll always be PorkChop to me.
You see, many years ago now, while he was a Customer Service Rep at Office Depot, living in Escondido - the day dawned clear, sunny and warm.
PorkChop (PC) looked out on the shiny morning & decided it would be a good day to meander into work, forgoing the car & doing something not only for his body, but for the environment as well.
So, off he sets, from his small, one room, kitchen/toilet/bedroom/livingroom combined studio apartment on that hot Escondido morning. Perhaps birds flew by chirping their welcome to the bubbly PC as he bopped his way to Office Depot. As he came to the main road he saw that the little white light man was still showing on the big black pole, blinking to be sure, but he thought he'd have ample time to make the few feet from one side of the road to the other.
Taking that fateful step, PC took his ample figure into the crosswalk, walking - not quickly - to the other side of the road. {Not unlike all those chickens that insist on crossing roads - as at this juncture in his life, PC could be safely referred to as "chicken" or a 'twink(ie)".}
Well, as all things change, so did the little man and the light, the man was now red & the light for the oncoming traffic was green. Still enjoying his morning stroll, PC didn't hurry a step, but kept with his own slow steady pace to the other side of the road.
A man, perhaps in his mid 30's, in a truck, maybe good looking, maybe not, the records on this are a little spotty, but this is known for a fact - the man does roll down his window & yells, & I quote "SPEED IT UP PORKCHOP!!!"
Well, not used to cat calls, (you've seen his picture in his blog, so this is understandable) PC was scared out of his reverie contemplating what's for lunch & ran panting the last few feet to the other side of the road. The day ruined, perhaps, a little sadder & older than before.
So, that's the story of how he came to be known as PorkChop. So, don't let him tell you he's DOC, you look him in the eye & say "You'll always be PorkChop to me."

Healthy Post

Just back from the gym - hip hop class to be exact. I enjoy that special feeling that only dancing with people better than you can give, you know, the what the hell, I can't move like that - ever - feeling.
Anyway, I worked out the body, now I'm doing some spot training with the fingers while importing Wilson Phillips into iTunes, things really couldn't get much better now could they, the pleasant harmonies of Chynna, Carnie & Wendy while typing on a balmy summer night. Could be a San Diego promotional commercial couldn't it?

Well I never!

I was finally able to post a picture, a lot harder than it looks folks when you're not too technically savvy. This of course means for the past 20 minutes I've been doing non-work related internet exploring, so I must now, sadly go into a flurry of work to make up for my apparent slackfullness.

It's my first time...

It's been a while since I've been able to say that. Woo hoo, the DOC has convinced me to try this out.