Random Stories, Tenth Edition
And I’m back. Again. At least after this brief vacation from updating I don’t have bad news. Unless you count studying for far too many hours a day bad news. Which I do. Which is pretty much all that I have been doing. Which is why I haven’t posted. Crazy but true, reading history books and sitting in front of a computer typing up outlines does not tend to lend itself to fun stories.
Speaking of fun stories, though, I might have a couple. Or I might not. Who am I to judge what you will find funny? There are few things that we can all find funny. Exceptions being, of course, people falling on ice, anything Bill O’Reilly says, Coeur d’Alene Casino commercials (sorry for the people who don’t get to see those because they are classic TV comedy), and dogs in sweaters. Or are these all just things I find funny?
Back to the stories. So I use the word “ish” quite a bit. It’s a great word because it buys me a lot of leeway and there’s nothing I like more than versatility in a word. Except Elvis. And the Bradys. Anyways, I like it for the flexibility it gives me. As in when I tell people I’ll be somewhere at 7-ish. That gives me at least an hour either way. Or when I say I enjoy a TV show. Ish. That means it depends on my mood. Do we all do this? No? Just me?
Anyways, so back in the big city of Pocatello, I used it in front of my friend Toni who apparently hadn’t heard it before. Here is a transcript of what transpired:
Toni: I’m setting up a tee time for us to play golf this afternoon. What time do you want to go?
Me: I guess at 8-ish.
T: Eight-ish? What does that mean?
Me: Somewhere around 8. Derh.
[Momentary pause while the generation gap between myself and Toni grows. Luckily Toni loves me or else I’m pretty sure the “Derh” accompanied by my eye-rolling would have earned me a “flying elbow.”
Toni: I like that. I’m going to use it.
[Momentary pause while I giggle at Toni. All in good fun and a spirit of love. Ish.]
Toni: [now on the phone with the golf course] Yes, I’d like to set up a tee time. My friend and I are going to play golf-ish.
Me: [collapsing in a fit of laughter]
Ken: [Toni’s husband, who is currently shaking his head at Toni, like he is the Desi to her Lucy]
Toni: Did I use it wrong?
Ok, so maybe that story is only funny to me. If you did not find it funny, try to liven it up by picturing me falling on my ass at the end of it as I walk on ice. Which didn’t happen, but use your imagination. Does that make it funnier? If so, you are a sadist and (as Susie would say to Larry or Jeff) a sick fuck.
My other story for the day involves me and pretension. So I’m out of food at my house and need to go to the grocery store. I had nothing in my fridge for breakfast (seriously, all I have in there is beer and condiments. Because I am apparently a 22 year-old man.) so I had to stop at a coffee shop on the way to work. By the way, pumpkin scones are back.
So after getting my scone and a coffee, I’m in my car, with the windows down and some music playing. Not loudly, but enough so that if a person should pull up next to me with their windows also down they could hear it. Which happened. Luckily, it was a friend of mine who was going to the bookstore next door to the coffee shop.
So I’m in my car and we say hi to each other. He then sees me sipping my iced beverage, holding my little Starbucks bag containing said scone, and listening to my music. Which is an Italian singer singing in her Italian language. He then shook his head and said I won, and I quote, “The pretentious asshole of the day award.”
In my defense, because I don’t usually go around listening to music in foreign languages because we all know America kicks ass harder than any other nation (ish), I found this particular singer on an episode of Sopranos. It’s the one where Big Pussy feels guilty for being, well, a big pussy and cries over being flipped by the feds. And any music from a TV show where people are beheaded and their heads are placed in a bowling ball bag does not qualify as pretentious.
But that was my morning. Perhaps I should go back to studying and not post again until I have something better to share.
Speaking of fun stories, though, I might have a couple. Or I might not. Who am I to judge what you will find funny? There are few things that we can all find funny. Exceptions being, of course, people falling on ice, anything Bill O’Reilly says, Coeur d’Alene Casino commercials (sorry for the people who don’t get to see those because they are classic TV comedy), and dogs in sweaters. Or are these all just things I find funny?
Back to the stories. So I use the word “ish” quite a bit. It’s a great word because it buys me a lot of leeway and there’s nothing I like more than versatility in a word. Except Elvis. And the Bradys. Anyways, I like it for the flexibility it gives me. As in when I tell people I’ll be somewhere at 7-ish. That gives me at least an hour either way. Or when I say I enjoy a TV show. Ish. That means it depends on my mood. Do we all do this? No? Just me?
Anyways, so back in the big city of Pocatello, I used it in front of my friend Toni who apparently hadn’t heard it before. Here is a transcript of what transpired:
Toni: I’m setting up a tee time for us to play golf this afternoon. What time do you want to go?
Me: I guess at 8-ish.
T: Eight-ish? What does that mean?
Me: Somewhere around 8. Derh.
[Momentary pause while the generation gap between myself and Toni grows. Luckily Toni loves me or else I’m pretty sure the “Derh” accompanied by my eye-rolling would have earned me a “flying elbow.”
Toni: I like that. I’m going to use it.
[Momentary pause while I giggle at Toni. All in good fun and a spirit of love. Ish.]
Toni: [now on the phone with the golf course] Yes, I’d like to set up a tee time. My friend and I are going to play golf-ish.
Me: [collapsing in a fit of laughter]
Ken: [Toni’s husband, who is currently shaking his head at Toni, like he is the Desi to her Lucy]
Toni: Did I use it wrong?
Ok, so maybe that story is only funny to me. If you did not find it funny, try to liven it up by picturing me falling on my ass at the end of it as I walk on ice. Which didn’t happen, but use your imagination. Does that make it funnier? If so, you are a sadist and (as Susie would say to Larry or Jeff) a sick fuck.
My other story for the day involves me and pretension. So I’m out of food at my house and need to go to the grocery store. I had nothing in my fridge for breakfast (seriously, all I have in there is beer and condiments. Because I am apparently a 22 year-old man.) so I had to stop at a coffee shop on the way to work. By the way, pumpkin scones are back.
So after getting my scone and a coffee, I’m in my car, with the windows down and some music playing. Not loudly, but enough so that if a person should pull up next to me with their windows also down they could hear it. Which happened. Luckily, it was a friend of mine who was going to the bookstore next door to the coffee shop.
So I’m in my car and we say hi to each other. He then sees me sipping my iced beverage, holding my little Starbucks bag containing said scone, and listening to my music. Which is an Italian singer singing in her Italian language. He then shook his head and said I won, and I quote, “The pretentious asshole of the day award.”
In my defense, because I don’t usually go around listening to music in foreign languages because we all know America kicks ass harder than any other nation (ish), I found this particular singer on an episode of Sopranos. It’s the one where Big Pussy feels guilty for being, well, a big pussy and cries over being flipped by the feds. And any music from a TV show where people are beheaded and their heads are placed in a bowling ball bag does not qualify as pretentious.
But that was my morning. Perhaps I should go back to studying and not post again until I have something better to share.
posted by Ace | 8:26 AM
2 Comments:
I thought the "Ish" story was hilarious. Perhaps it's because I know Toni and I can just hear her saying "golf-ish..." That's awesome.
philbin phibs? rubbISH!
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