Southernfolk talk different

Growing up, my dad used to use funny idioms that I'd never heard anywhere else, and since his mom is Southern and my mom is not, I just assumed that's where they came from. One I remember is "You better be over here in two shakes of the lammy's tail." This meant very quickly. Evidently, lammies shake their tails so quickly that they can shake them twice before whatever instant you need to deal with is at hand. I'm pretty sure there is another one, but I can't think of what it is. I have lived in the Real South (as my loyal readers know, I grew up in Florida, which is like the bicurious state) since 2004 now, and have yet to hear any of them come out of any other Southern mouths. So I can only conclude that my dad is an amazing idiomologist and made them up.

There are, however, a number of colloquialisms that I have come across that are worthy of sharing. You will, of course, find them listed and discussed below in my favorite and noblest of all lists: the numbered list.

1. Show [one's] tail - The first time I heard this one, I actually had to ask for an explanation. I have not heard this one outside of rural South Carolina yet, so it might be unique to there and not Southern at large. It has nothing to do with nudity or discovery of morphological changes in humans, to my disappointment. How great would it be if they discovered lizard people in the Upstate of South Carolina? Clemson's swim team would win all kinds of national championships. It actually means to misbehave, as in, "After eating several pixie sticks, the State Senators really showed their tails."
2. Cut on - This is the phrase that made me want to write this entry. This one bothers me for aesthetic purposes. It doesn't sound right. This is the opposite of (obviously) cut off, as in "Cut off the woodchipper, he's already dead." Cut off should be obnoxious too, since it doesn't really make sense either, but it gets a pass because cutting off and termination kind of make sense, even though cutting off a light switch is not really that permanent or serious of a change. I do feel strongly though that you should not be able to cut on anything.
3. Might could - These are two linking verbs. I know that because in seventh grade Mrs. Adair made us memorize all of the linking verbs in the English language via a cute little song that I will never forget ever. The thing about verbs like that, though, is that two of them can't follow each other in a sentence, with the exceptions of am/is/are/was/were and being. No other combinations are possible, including might could. This means might be able to, and I grit my teeth every time I hear someone say this. An example of this being used in a sentence is "I might could help you with your math homework, but you have to take off your shirt first." (In this example, the speaker is talking to a girl [who is over 18]. The speaker can be whichever gender you prefer.)
   
4. Stay - This one isn't so much a phrase as it is a word. That's ok, though. It means live. As in, "No, I don't stay in this refrigerator box. Thanks for asking." This one, though, isn't really quite as aggravating or funny as the others, but it's still unusual. Like a cat who barks or a complete sentence coming from Rep. Corrine Brown. I am also told that this is restricted to a subset of Southerners who are also black, which is consistent with my very scientific observations.

I really wish I could remember the other prolific one that my dad would say because it would really make the intro stronger and it's really weird. Feel free to share any regionalisms you have encountered, and point out the region. The stranger the better!

I like the Irish. Not Notre Dame.

It was in high school when I first started to think about what islands of white people my family came from way back when. Of course, like everyone else in the southeast, Britain and Ireland were the primary culprits. I was prompted to look into it because there were a lot of people in my high school whose parents were born in India but they had never seen the place and still managed to feel and act more Indian than American. Don't get me a wrong, there were a lot of awesome Indian people too, but there were some who would only hang with other Indian folks, which strikes me as, well, I don't want to say racist, but a little bit racist.

This coming week is, of course, the holiday for people who like to pretend they're Irish. I have never been to Ireland and my last name is English, but there are Irish people in my family tree and begorrah, I love it. The Irish are a jolly people, and I like being a part of that. There are primarily three things that Irish people are known for, and they're all fantastic. Indian people might have better food, but they sure don't have better booze.

1. Booze (Biotálle). Distillation came to Ireland from the Mediterranean by way of missionaries, according to wikipedia. How great is that? Missionaries! There's a saying that the Irish discovered whiskey and the Scottish perfected it. You know what I have to say about that? Ireland is independent and Scotland is still run from London. Eat that. Also, everyone loves Guinness. Americans learned to make their liquors when the Irish and Scottish came over and settled the South in the early colonial days. Good for them.
2. Blessings (Beannachtaí). Everyone knows the "May the road always rise to meet you..." blessing. You may not have known is that there are like a thousand just like it, poetic and fun and cheery. For a people so historically miserable (not quite Polish or Jewish miserable, but certainly more so than the Canadians), most of what you see is very positive, like charming brogues, pots of gold and leprechauns, and excellent smelling soap. I suspect #1 has a hand in this attitude. My favorite is: May you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.
   
3. Blarney (An Bhlárna). It is a town, castle, rock and gift originating in County Cork. You might think it's just mumbo jumbo, but this community has been able to convince Americans to come to their town and spend good money in order bend over backwards to kiss a rock. If that isn't evidence of the gift of Blarney, I don't know what is. There is also a disproportionate presence of Irish writers in the English language, and I'd like to think that there's something in the blood, and I just have to activate that component of it by drinking Bushmills.

Sure, there are terrorists and domestic violence too, but all that has largely been drowned out by the Muslims blowing people up in more dramatic fashion. And their accents aren't nearly as fun. Can you imagine a Saudi breakfast cereal? Magically delicious, insha'allah. Anyway, everyone have a happy SPD on the 17th, eat some corned beef and cabbage and say sláinte as you think about your favorite blogger. The Wonkette.

Things I Learned on the Oscars

I have to confess that I did not watch all of the spectacle last night. I made it until the all important short documentary award, which was won by a movie called Smile Pinki about children with cleft palates which I'm sure was super uplifting. It was presented by Bill Maher. The presenter is relevant, but I don't want to say anything further because I don't want to step on my toes later on. As you probably already know, I like numbered lists. I am going to use this technique to describe my discoveries.

1. Of Hugh Jackman's talents, being funny without scripted jokes is not one of them. He was pretty impressive with his singing and dancing and making out with Anne Hathaway, but he was not funny after the opener. Later on, though, in his second dance number, it gave us another image of Vanessa Hudgens to think about where she looked good with her clothes on. I was going to post a pic of her from the show, but all I could find was that shot of her naked in her bedroom. No kiddie porn for me.
2. Bill Maher is not funny. At all. To be fair, I knew this one already. He is not funny, nor is he insightful. This man upsets me, because he reflects poorly on Irish people. Maher is the same as my grandmother's maiden name (although her family name was corrupted upon their arrival in this country). I might go see Religulous just so I can storm out and be indignant. Being indignant is suprisingly satisfying.
3. Jack Black is still capable of hilarity. He had a great joke series about animated films and how much America loves him. He even involved gambling, and quite frankly, gambling is fun. He presented with Jennifer Aniston and they did surprisingly well together. I don't care if I'm alone when I say this, but Brad Pitt made the wrong call with Angelina. She is crazy and has too many kids. Jennifer is crazy and has no kids and presents with Jack Black. Jack Black tells jokes about betting on the movie studio that employs him on national television and I'm pretty sure neither of them have tattoos.
4. The only difference between Sarah Jessica Parker and Dee Snider is Matthew Broderick. I don't know how Sarah Jessica Parker got famous. Is she supposed to be a sex symbol? Is she supposed to be a glam metal rocker? I never saw a single episode of Sex and the City (how surprised are you?), so I don't get what it's all about. I had a cosmopolitan once, and it was pretty good, but all girly drinks are and as far as girly drinks go, it kind of sucks. What's that you and your Sex and the City friends say, Jessica? You disagree with my joking abuse and you're not gonna take it?
5. They should have awards for movies that came out last year. I had seen a grand total of zero of the movies that were up for best picture. I had seen one last year -- Michael Clayton. My living room is so awesome that I never want to go out to movies anymore. The academy should reflect that.
   

They hit a grand slam

I saw the greatest commercial ever yesterday. I think it was a Super Bowl commercial, so I might be a little behind the eight ball on this one, but a late compliment is still better than no compliment. When I say greatest, it might be a little bit of an exaggeration. It is, however, on the level of Free Pie and Chips.

I don't want to jump right into it, because I don't like spoiling surprises. I like the build up. Do you remember the funniest commercial you ever saw? Did it involve a talking animal, like a lizard convincing you to buy beer or a chihuahua trying to sell you on... meat? It's not really Mexican food or even food in the abstract, but they call it meat so I'll be charitable. Geico had some great ones, like the Lauren Wallace series and the aforementioned Pie and Chips. I miss him.

Somehow, I missed this one at the Super Bowl. I don't know how, but then again, I wasn't really paying that much attention. So I guess I kind of do know how. I wanted the Cardinals to win, because they have a cool story and they had such a long line of futility and Larry Fitzgerald is a mad man and I'm pretty sure that Ben Roethlisberger is borderline retarded. But he has twice as many Super Bowl rings as Peyton Manning, so I guess having an IQ of 80 isn't so bad after all.

I don't even want to give away the what happens in this commercial, because it cracked me up so hard. I was in tears and laughing uncontrollably for like 7 minutes. That hasn't happened since the last time I watched Beerfest with Wachapreague Warrior. I backed up on my DVR. Here's my advice: watch it once, then count to ten, then watch it again. Let it sink in. It is comedic brilliance on the order of Blazing Saddles. I like pancakes, too.

First step towards immortality

Why did the chicken cross the road? Have you ever stopped to think that somebody somewhere was the first person to ever tell that joke? That joke was written (or invented, depending on whether you think of jokes as simply pieces of writing or discoveries that should be shared). Stand up comics write jokes all the time, but there aren't really that many that become part of our cultural consciousness that the joke's existence becomes distinct from the writer. Knock knock. Who's There? Ima. Ima who? I'ma kill the guy who came up with the knock knock joke. You can have that one for free.

Sure, we all know the bit about the 7 Words You Can't Say on Television by George Carlin. You can't separate that phrase from Mr. Conductor. Barney from How I Met Your Mother is an innovator of this ilk with his Lemon Law. Who was the first guy to call people "cat" instead of sir or man? I want to congratulate that guy and I'm pissed we don't still do that.

Somewhere down the line, there was a first guy to do that. We don't know who he is; he is an innovator lost in the sands of time, like the inventor of the wheel or penicillin. I do think, however, that whoever that guy was, he would be happier if we started calling each other cat again that erecting a monument in his honor in our downtown city squares. It would probably just come out as a giant marble cat anyway.

I want to join that pantheon of creativity. I was challenged to invent a word as my first offering to those demigods of comedy and posterity for entry into their Olympus over the weekend, and I think I have it: flamty. It started out as flamtankerous, but we can all agree that was way over the top. Flamty is where it's at. The exact defintion is hard to pin down exactly, but I can use it in a few sentences to make it clear for you.

1. I was going to ask that girl for her number, but that dress makes her ass look flamty.
2. Hmm, I there's something funny about the marinade, does that steak taste a little flamty to you?
3. Let's be reasonable here, your sister is clearly the flamtiest in the room. I haven't thrown up even once!

I hope that this will be the first of many inventions of a lexicographic nature to bolster your conversation. Please feel free to post your own interpretations and uses of the word, and also let me know about circumstances in out there away from internetland where this comes up. I hope none of your coming days are flamty.

Where's the third ring?

I'm pretty sure I'm not crazy on this one: I don't understand the Family Circus. I don't mean that it looks like Greek letters and alien shapes, I recognize that it's a comic composed of images and dialogue intended to portray a scene or story, but I can't figure out what the Family Circus's motivation or appeal is. It's not really a story. Is it because I don't have children? Is that why it seems like a waste of newspaper ink to me?

Let me clarify, though, that the Family Circus is not as maddeningly offensive as, say, Frank and Earnest. It's just confusing. Why is this comic so universally popular? Am I on crazy pills? Let me cite an example that I found on the family circus website, which if this blog ever gets readership I will probably have to take down or risk being sued:


When I say I don't understand it, it's not that I don't know what it's saying, even though for a Floridian the concept of icy sidewalks is about as familiar as tse tse flies biting Bengal Tigers while aborigines watch while playing the accordion. I have conceptual understanding that ice forms in the winter on sidewalks and it's slippery, increasing the risk of falling, or sliding, if you will. I get the "joke." Only, it's not a joke. This is a bad pun dressed up as cute because a child (presumably his?) said it. Aww, adorable. No. This is a newspaper. There is no room for adorable, Trixie Flagston aside.

I want to know who it is that looks for this everyday. I want to know if having children will make this comic seem less like something only boring people enjoy to something I look for all the time. If enjoying Family Circus is what I have to look forward to in parenthood, I am going to never stop drinking Mountain Dew.

Coming out of hibernation?

Hey everybody. I know, I haven't written here since for like four months. And you know what? Only one of you, my favorite of all my friends both real and imagined, mentioned it. Bloggers feed on comments. They are like the water that makes the tiny foam dinosaurs turn into scary and disappointing monsters. That's what your comments do to my ego.

Maybe you've lost interest or I've started repeating myself. I don't know; I don't read my own stuff very often. I am a poor judge of my writing. Each blog entry is like one of my children: I barely remember any of them.

I do hope that I can put more effort into this in the near future, and that y'all do too. I am going to give you a few previews of what you can expect. Some of them are classic topics (like commercials I hate, comics I hate, and other things that begin with c that I hate), some will be new (like things I haven't decided yet, but I will probably talk about how much I like period hats), I still owe you a Graphs Aplenty (from my favorite of all friends both real and imagined), and I think there might be a visual redesign. I might lose interest, though, if you people don't step up your game.

Oh, and I have a beard now.

Click here to begin

All of you faithful reader out there know how much attention I pay to commercials, even with my DVR, which I have not previously mentioned. I have a DVR, and it has kind of changed my life. Kind of. I still watch them. I still judge them. I still love the Sonic commercials, regardless of what one of my friends might think. Microsoft has made a big splash lately. They've got Bill Gates running around with Jerry Seinfeld. They've got Bill Gates running around with all sorts of other pcs. I guess he has a lot of time on his hands nowadays, now that he's no longer running the world from his evil throne. (Notice that I have not made a judgment about Gates; just his throne. Or did I?)

I don't know how I feel about the Seinfeld commercials. They're weird and avant-garde and memorable, but I can't say that they're funny. They're just weird for the sake of weird, and since they are both famous, people notice. The question, though, is when did Seinfeld stop being funny? Actually, Gates isn't too bad. But that's because he's Bill Gates on a tv commercial telling Jerry Seinfeld that he doesn't wear his clothes in the shower. That's weird for the sake of funny.

The other one is the answer to the Mac vs. PC commercials. It isn't that funny either, but that's not really what they're going for. It's actually a pretty cool commercial, except it's like 5 years too late. The Mac vs. PC commercials are ridiculous now (although I did laugh at the pizza one) and not really that relevant anymore. Where have you been, Microsoft ad people? Or Windows ad people? I don't really understand what the companies are anymore.

What is the best party story ever?

I think everyone loves Jeopardy, whether they freely admit it or not. There is something lovable about Alex Trebek and his feigned sympathy when somebody confuses Hirohito and Akihito. Everybody feels the same way about the inane stories people tell in the middle of the Jeopardy round, mostly how much more interesting we are than the people on the show and their stories about their cats and proposing to their wives at football games. Last week, I drove to Savannah to try out for the chance to tell my inane cat stories to millions of people all over the country, right before or after Wheel of Fortune.

It all started about eight months ago when America’s favorite quiz show put out its annual online online qualifying test. I had been waiting on this moment for a long time; probably since the very first time I heard the category title “Potent Potables.” This would be my time to shine.

Before the 8:00 pm start time, the 50 question exam could he about anything, from Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” to the reign of Tiberius Caesar or this year’s Best Picture winner. I do not remember a lot of the details, and since they kept most of the details hush-hush, they kept my score a secret. It reminded me a lot of “the permanent record” that teachers kept in elementary school. They also tell you that there is an element of randomness involved, I assume to keep your ego in check enough not to go around to your friends and discuss how you knocked the test out of the park. You cannot get on the show with out a little luck. In fact, you cannot even make it past the first cut.

Last month, though, I got word back. After eight months of waiting on pins and needles, I got an e-mail telling me to arrive at a hotel in Savannah. The only warning, the only preparation really, they offered me was to arrive prepared for a written exam, a personality interview, and a mock Jeopardy round. I expected the written exam to be a lot like the online test, and it was, and I had seen enough of the show to kind of know what to expect from a simulated game, but personality interview? What does that even mean? Do they have a personality type in mind? Are they worried I am going to arrive in an oversized hat? It is television, after all, and you never really know what it is they are thinking. They could be thinking something like, “His head will look huge on camera.” Oh they did have one more suggestion that I forgot: have fun!

When I got there, they gave us a little history of the show and explained how the trick is as much about timing as it is about knowing the answers to Alex’s Questions. Or questions to his answers. Or whatever.

The written exam was another 50 questions with eight seconds for each. It was just as tense as it sounds, since the questions about opera are just as hard in Savannah as they are from your couch. After it was over, the discussion was just like the ones that happen after tests in school or a after a poker game: obnoxious. I do not care if you knew who created Daisy Buchanan, this is competition. This is deathmatch. This is Thunderdome.

The next step was the mock game and the personality interview (they happened together). They ask you about your inane cat stories and your job and what you would do with the money. The trick, though, was that they did it at a rapid, television pace to catch the unwitting civilians off guard. Everyone did ok, unfortunately. The herd was not thinned that much at this stage.

They insisted that the mock round would not be “graded,” but I am a little skeptical. I think it was an effort to try to diffuse the nervousness, and every wrong answer was really black mark on our secret Jeopardy permanent record. It is a bit intimidating, there’s a lot to think about: wait for the question to be read completely, think of the right answer, buzz in, answer loud, smile, and please oh please do not forget to answer in the form of a question. This is all while you are standing in front of the other Jeopardy gladiators. One question sticks out in my mind – to which dynasty did Mary, Queen of Scots belong? I knew the answer, and kept saying in my head, “It’s Stuart, do not say Tudor.” Yet, invariably, I buzzed in and said, “What is Tudor?” Wrong. That is a black mark on my Jeopardy record forever, I just know it. I did get other questions right, but Mary, Queen of Scots will haunt my dreams.

They told us that they keep us on file for eighteen months. So, anytime between next week and a year and a half from now, I might get a phone call (hopefully from Alex himself) saying, “Mr. Hathway, we need you in Los Angeles right away.” Then I can start bragging to my friends about how I knocked the Jeopardy tests out of the park, and hopefully, will not fall on my face on television after doing so. Luckily for you guys, though, I do not have any cats.

Best. Campaign. Ever.

Here's another thing that I hate: people in blogs who don't write for a long time and then come back and say, "Oh, I'm sorry I have been away so long! Here's what I did..." That's not what this blog is about, and if you were expecting that, then I'm not sure you'd enjoy this blog anyway. Go read some camwhore's Amazon wishlist. Just assume I was doing pretty much what you were doing, except four or five times more awesome. Yeah. It was that good.

I try to avoid politics here, because I write about that other places and I know that not all four of you like politics. But the next few months are going to be amazing. We just finished the Olympics, where we were beaten in the golds by the evil Chinese, Democratic Convention was this week, Republican is next week, college football opens this weekend (I will be in Atlanta watching Clemson crush the Crimson Tide, by the way, look for me -- you'll know me when you see me), and McCain announced his running mate today. And it's a girl! (I think my little brother has a crush on her.) This makes this race exciting again, and maybe even more accessible to people who care more about Dancing With the Stars. (I'm guessing, I don't watch that show. Although I do think it would fun if Missouri settles their electoral votes by a dance-off. Maine should do a lobster-off. There need to be more competitions ending in -off in my life.)

Joe Biden is a fun pick too, because he's like your crazy old uncle who has opinions on everything and doesn't give a damn about who is listening. I love that in a politician. And an uncle. But most of the excitement on Democrats came when Obama joined this shindig, and that's yesterday's news now. Like bologna. That's right, I don't eat bologna anymore.

I'm pretty sure I've said this here before, but election season is like my World Cup. It comes around every four years, most of the country is really bored when it happens, and I like to wear a cape made from the flag of my favorite team while watching. I can't really intelligently make a soccer analogy, because I don't understand how the game works, but imagine if an extremely exciting game became boring (tough, I know) and then suddenly became the most exciting game ever played. That's what I'm looking at right now. No matter what happens, history will be made, like if a baby led the Lions to a Super Bowl. Can you imagine? The Lions in the Super Bowl?