As a young immigrant girl our friend Allie strived to fit in. So to be one of the crowd she joined up with a girl gang in Wisconsin. They all dressed alike and shouldered girls out of the way in the high school hallways. They tucked packs of cigarettes in the jumpers and hid doobies in their beehives. But worst of all they started dealing.They hooked everyone in school on cheese.
91 comments:
Cheese curds are like crack cocaine, very addictive. I sold myself for cheese curds, then I became a dealer, I had more cheese curds than I could eat, so I sold them to poor unsuspecting freshman.
They were hooked. They were so high on cheese curds they didn't mind it at all when the football players gave them bubbler rides, which is something only a Wisconsinite would understand.
If that is anything like a "bubblah" then the resident Bostonians might understand. Around here it would be a Bubba ride.
Hey baby if I wasn't married I could give you a blubber ride you would never forget. Just sayn'
Hmmm, Sixty, I'm thinking that we are referring to two entirely different things.
I'm glad you are " just sayin". You are a good hubby.
Yes I am.
And I do not have a death wish. Just sayn'
I ran "bubbler" through the German to English translator and got nothing. I used to live in Boston, so from bubblah I know. I am a Bubba, so I have that covered to. Must be a Wisconsin thing, and if I go to my grave having never visited that lovely state, well then, more's the pity.
OK, here's a hint, when one gets a Bubbler ride, their butts get quite wet.
Allie, are you pop or soda?
There's a dividing line somewhere between Milwaukee and Madison.
Soda.
Well Sixty Madison is a beautiful city,my daughter is getting married at the Olin Park Pavillion in Madison in the fall, the park is right on one of the lakes Menona I lthink. The skyline of Madison and the Capitol are visable from the park side of the lake and beautifully lit up at night.
I will post a few pics when the time comes, hmm, should I invite you know who and her hubby? They have videos from the park Olin Park I believe.
I live in uber right wing Waukesha County.
I was raised just west of Madison in "pop" country. I remember going to visit my cousins in Milwaukee and they would tease us for calling pop soda.
There's a couple of interesting maps out there showing how divided Americans are over this issue. I think Ruth Anne Adams tweeted this a while back: link
Monona and Mendota, Olin park is on Lake Monona.
A bubbler is a water fountain. It's just like those Bay Staters who call soda, tonic. Every area has their own indiosyncracies.
Teasing and ratting was the only way to keep those beehives FULL. What a project!! Booby pin city. Once those edifices were constructed and secured with copious amounts of spray, they were virtually impregnable with anything but a rat tail.
The bouffant, hair styles were slightly before my time. We ushered in the long straight hair styles, which was the bane of my existence, as my hair was naturally wavy. Hairspray was verboten in my gang.
Oh the stench of singed hair, the sore arms when trying to iron hair. I decided it was safer to use the huge beer can sized rollers, to get the desired sleek look. No sooner did I walk out the door of a warm humid Wisconsin summer day and the hair rebelled, back to its natural state.
I was sixteen years old, going out on a date with a cute boy from New York, named Charlie, he had a souped up car, a Firebird I think. He hated Wisconsin, that is until he met me :)
The carefully managed pretense of straight hair in that era was definitely challenged by dampness and inclement weather.
Electric curlers and the shag were next, followed by crazy portico bangs created with the curling iron.
MamaM, how pleasant it is to share hair stories with you, it's a start, maybe we can eventually talk about something substantive without you correcting my spelling errors, think?
No doubt I missed a few spelling errors.
Allie, I always like your tributes to your husband. I have faith, and believe w/ my heart and soul he is @ peace w/ God. It is the living who suffer, not the dead.
Allie Oop said...
No doubt I missed a few spelling errors.
Relax about the spelling errors. That's Sixty's job.
Besides, "Booby pin city" is an interesting visual don't you agree?
Very touching testimonial about your husband. I think that intelligence can be learned and (unfortunately unlearned). It's not all innate.
Those Firebirds didn't have much leg room in the back seat!!
ndspinelli said...
Those Firebirds didn't have much leg room in the back seat!!
It was no coincidence that the baby boom occurred during the era of front and back bench seats in cars.
A Tale of Mere Mortals and Intellectual Giants
Chatting here with Mama M got me thinking about intelligence, gifts , kindness, humanity. See, rubbing elbows with intellectual giants gets us mere mortals pondering things which threatens to make our puny brains smoke and whirr from overuse.
I love highly intelligent people, seriously I do. I married one.
My husband's' intelligence so exceeded mine, he knew it, I knew it, it wasn't a case of me negating my own intelligence, which is quite average. He shined , he drew me to him like a moth to a flame, but his fire wasn't destructive, it was warm,loving, accepting.
He made me think, he forced me to see things that I wouldn't have been able to comprehend without his help and guidance. I didn't resent him for being my teacher, for poking fun at my obtuseness. I could never stay angry at him, because everything he did , he did in love.
He was not only gifted with a high degree of intelligence, he was gifted with humanity. He was extraordinarily kind, patient, he was too good for this world. He was taken from us young, he was one of a kind.
Intelligent people could've learned a thing or two from him. He didn't use his intelligence and quick wit to belittle, to hurt, to make those of lesser intelligence feel like outcasts in the world of quick thinkers.
I'm still attracted by highly intelligent people, I admire them, I want to be around them, hoping as if by osmosis I can absorb some of what they possess. So in conclusion , wouldn't it be wonderful if highly intelligent folks would be patient with us slow learners, be kind, don't ridicule unless it's done fondly. Get to know us mere mortals, maybe discover we possess gifts of our own.
DAMN! Sorry guys , your comments are now out of order, lol. I found more spelling errors!
I NEVER got in the backseat, no , not me;)
My quit wit is nonpulsed by Allie's overwhelming sweetness, abject humility and fullsome offer of something substantive.
After she lets me know how much Midol I need to take to get through a our first meety discussion of Sainted Husbands, I'm sure I'll have something more to offer.
Wow MamaM , just wow.
Other than one occasion, a Russian greeting, I have not corrected any spelling errors here in months. Months, I tells ya! Have at it - use "alot", misuse "there" "they're" and "their". Use "of" when you mean "have" (yeah, you know who I'm talking about). Go nuts. I will not allow my profession to spill over into my free time any more. Anymore.
Nevermore. How about them Ravens, eh?
OK, now I am REALLY pissed! This is the third time I've had to correct my spelling errors! And the angrier, the worse my spelling is.
Sixty, I wasn't referring to you, I don't mind I when you correct me, it's not done with malice.
I'm getting to the point where I'm just going to say it.
FUCK YOU MamaM hop back on that broom and leave me alone.
Use "of" when you mean "have" (yeah, you know who I'm talking about).
What of it?
Have at it.
Let's get nasty and grow a thread!
When I taught middle school the girls always won the spelling bees. But, in Wi. they have geography bees in 7th grade, and even the stupid boys did better than the smartest girls in geography.
So, as I always suspected, Allie is a tranny.
But, in Wi. they have geography bees in 7th grade, and even the stupid boys did better than the smartest girls in geography.
My wife just returned from a conference in FL. She had a window seat. Last night she said to me "You know, I never realized how important rivers and drainage were."
I high-fived her.
Okay, I guess my jocularity didn't come through. I was responding to CL who mentioned that spelling correction was my purview. I was renouncing, walking away from, denying, and otherwise giving away that task. I shall leave that to others.
As for gittin' nasty, I shall eschew that, as well. This is a place of respite. A place where rainbows and unicorn farts rule. Troop claims it was the unicorns, anyway...
As for gittin' nasty, I shall eschew that, as well. This is a place of respite. A place where rainbows and unicorn farts rule. Troop claims it was the unicorns, anyway...
Is respite just rehashed spite?
I agree with Sixty. As one of worst manglers who specializes in dropping whole words, Herr Grit has been remarkably lenient regarding my errors. I shall trouble him no more.
ndspinelli said...
So, as I always suspected, Allie is a tranny.
What did you mean by that? I'm sure it must have hurt Allie.
Well unicorn farts are preferable to jackass farts. I'm not seeing the rainbows, only a witch riding a broom in a cyclone.
(6:08 PM amended)
As for gittin' nasty, I shall eschew that, as well. This is a place of respite. A place where rainbows and unicorn farts rule. Troop claims it was the unicorns, anyway...
Is respite just rehashed spite?
I agree with Sixty. I am one of worst manglers who specializes in dropping whole words. Herr Grit has been remarkably lenient regarding my errors. I shall trouble him no more.
A week and a half ago I moved a shed. It weighed over a ton. I dragged it from its original resting place by hand, using a lever and some pipes for rollers. Then I used my truck to drag it the next 100 feet. For the final 20 miles a friend showed up with a big truck and trailer. We loaded it, drove the 20 miles, then unloaded it. It was kind of scary.
When we got through a wag suggested that I look underneath it for some striped socks and ruby slippers. I didn't, as I don't like Kansas that much. Sure, it's okay, but it's no North Carolina.
But where were we? Oh yeah, dodging tornadoes, petting our little dogs, too, it's all good.
That is my preferred style for amending comments. It mimics how claims are prosecuted before the patent office and leaves a complete bread crumb trail for others.
Now if only blogger allowed strike through characters in comments...
Even little dogs will bite when provoked.
Bob Kraft is drunk off his ass. The Ravens suck.
I want a rum and coke.
How about a ghetto mojito..check out urban dictionary
Nick, when you " smoke a Newport while drinking a Bud Light Lime"?
I'd rather have a real mojito, under a warm Miami sun at poolside.
I want a rum and coke.
I second that.
The tranny remark is light hearted, related to your self admitted spelling malaprops. I realize there is a pissing match going on here but I'm not a pisser. I'm a puncher, and when I take a shot there's no ambiguity. It's a jab or right hook.
Nick, don't hit me , I'm already down.
The Ultimate Pissing Contest,from the stories of Cú Chulainn:
One day in winter, when it had snowed heavily, the men made pillars of snow. The women stood on the pillars, and said, ‘Let’s piss on the pillars and see whose urine penetrates furthest. The best of us to keep will be the one who can reach right down to the ground.’
None of them could manage to penetrate all the way through the pillar to the ground. They called Derbforgaill, but she wasn’t keen – she thought it was foolish. But she was persuaded, and went onto the pillar, and her urine penetrated all the way to the ground.
The women said, ‘If the men knew about this, no woman would be loved compared to her.’ So they plucked out her eyes, and cut off her nose, and her ears, and her hair, and the flesh of her thighs. ‘No-one will love her now.’
After suffering this torture, Derbforgaill was taken back to her house.
The men were assembled on a hill outside Emain Macha. ‘Strange,’ said Cú Chulainn, ‘that there is snow on the roof of Derbforgaill’s house.’
‘She must be on the point of death!’ cried Lugaid.
They rushed to the house, but when she heard them coming Derbforgaill locked herself in. ‘Open up!’ said Cú Chulainn.
Derbforgaill sang a long lament, bidding farewell to Cú Chulainn and Lugaid. It is said that by the time they managed to get inside, her soul was no longer in her. Lugaid died on seeing her like that.
Cú Chulainn went to the house of the women and overturned it, killing everybody inside. He killed 150 queens that day. He then erected Lugaid and Derbforgaill’s tomb and stone, and mourned them. From the Book of Leinster (c 1160)
I am one of worst manglers who specializes in dropping whole words.
You're not the only one, Chickelit. The progress from common single-letter typos to mangled words to missing words to entire clauses that make no sense has been an interesting one to watch over the past 15 years or so online.
It's even spread to books, especially e-books. I just bought a Kindle single, for example, and it is generally well-written, but there are at least a few sentences with obvious missing words. This is a little piece about Beethoven, and it's otherwise very thoughtful.
You could say that a lot of editor-less writing these days is like Artur Schnabel's Beethoven: Sloppy but expressive and full of life, so who cares about a few split notes?
But we're now getting into writing that resembles Florence Foster Jenkins' singing.
I don't know what excuse poor Mrs. Jenkins had, but I think the modern sloppy writer is a product of staring at screen with a 60-75 Hz refresh rate, sleep deprivation, and an overly responsive keyboard.
Editing? What's that? Costs money, no?
It's crackers slips a rosin dropsy in snide.
Makes sense to me. In fact, I think I wrote it last week.
Sleep deprivation. Did I mention sleep deprivation?
Sleepless or not, I generally prefer Schnabel's Beethoven to pissing contests.
MamaM, now THAT was very entertaining. See , I've learned something from you already, I sit at your feet, be kind though.
You ask too much, Allie.
Beethoven, on the other hand, will never mock you.
Ja, der Gute Beethoven.
@MamaM: I wondered if the Cú Chulainn you recited had anything to do with the one The Pogues sang about in their boisterous song: link
Beethoven will only enlighten you and move you to a place we, as non-Beethovens, can only glimpse. He lived there. I, for one, am glad he did.
Mozart, like a too-clever adolescent, occasionally does sneer, it's true.
Haydn, like the good servant he was, sincerely hopes you will enjoy his music.
But Beethoven opens the Transcendent before you and wouldn't think of looking down at you. He expects to lift you up to his mountaintop, where you can see for yourself.
@MamaM, I see from your link that Cú Chulainn was adept at hurling which fits the binge-drinking Pogues persona.
Rum, Sodomy and the Lash! What a combo. Listening to the Pogues brought sonM into the room, prompting another retelling of the 850 year old tale. One more round on the magic broomstick.
Loved these comments at the link:
I thought this was the best song in the world when I was little, before I even knew how to multiply. LOL, This is so great.
When I was 6 my dad had a Pogue's CD and he played it in the car whenever we went on trips.
I learned the words by ear,
and he had to tell me to not sing this song.
That still didn't stop me singing it to my grandparents one christmas.
There are many crimes this age has to answer for.
It may not be the worst, but because it corrupts the human spirit, the one that bothers me the most is what it has done to music.
And if you'd like a little kiddie cartoon something from the Middle Ages, I prefer this, because the cartoon only extends to the visuals and not the substance.
TTB, absolutely beautiful.
I'm listening to Puccini, Nessun Dorma, fitting since I can't sleep again. I love the words at the ending, I win I win I win.
I do like Mozart, even though he was a bit of a "sneerer", my favorite aria, the Sull'Aria. The one played in the movie The Shawshank Redemtion.
Surprised? My husband and I loved opera.
Fell asleep to Die Blumenduet, from Lakme, by Delibes. One of the most beautiful duet arias.
Who is Penny? Is her daughter a good speller?
Allie: Glad you're an opera fan. I am, too, sort of.
As an instrumentalist, I always resented sloppy singers. I also resented the ridiculous star system in opera, as well as the rewards heaped on those who maybe could sing, but whose acting was urp-worthy. Anyway, I've had an opera-loving wife for a long time now, as well as a son who, at age 15, is studying voice at the New England Conservatory Prep School and is already making steady money as a tenor. He doesn't want to be a full-time professional, but is willing to see how far his rather good set of pipes might take him.
I also teach part-time at a choir school. So, despite my youthful distain for vocalists, I'm surrounded by them in my old age.
Another musical thing: The Pogues, despite using Irish instruments, are completely Punk. They stand in relation to traditional Irish music about like the Ramones did to, say, 1920's Delta Blues.
I like Irish music, and, as a flute and pennywhistle player, used to play it. But, despite their popularity, especially in the UK, I draw the line at The Pogues. Drunken, derivative, degenerate, and out-of-tune are about the best things to say. That "Fairy Tale of New York" could be a beloved Christmas song in the UK and maybe the US is a cringe-worthy factoid I wish I had never known.
I should listen to some opera this afternoon for a little moral uplift and cheer after being reminded of The Pogues. Think I'll put on the last act of Wozzeck.
Pogue Mahone ;)
TTB, I love opera, but am no aficionado,I am probably pedestrian on my opera choices, I love everything Puccini, the four famous Mozart operas, some Verdi. My husband was more familiar with Berg than I, but I will take a listen to Wozzek today, thanks!
My "education" in classical music was cut short by my husband's death, after that I was too busy working and just lost the desire to persue it further. Now that I'm retired , I can pick up where we left off. Maybe you have some suggestions for me?
You must be very proud of your son, a tenor, maybe the next Pavarotti! I'm envious of someone who's life and livelihood is surrounded with music.
Ha! I just looked up what Pogue Mahone means.
It also means, "alcoholic, degenerate tweakers" in Gipuzkoan.
Carmen, by Bizet is an easily accessible, if tragic opera. Tosca, by Puccini is stunningly beautiful, as is his La Boheme. I have seen those in person and that always helps make a good impression. Others, such as Turandot and Madama Butterfly I have only seen on television, and they are equally beautiful.
Giuseppe Verdi wrote some great operas. I have seen those, but they tend to be a bit heavier than things like Donizetti's Don Pasquale, which I saw performed outdoors! That one is a hoot. The Don's doctor is named Dr Malatesta, which is almost the Italian equivalent to the German word you used the other day, Kopfschmerzen.
I like Handel's operas and other vocal works, he was a genius.
I spent a great deal of money a few years back to see Beethoven's only opera, Fidelio. The night it was supposed to performed we had a blizzard and the performance was cancelled, never to be rescheduled. So I only know Beethoven's overtures, not the opera proper.
Now, moving right along, we get to the 20th century, where an intrepid traveler will find Nixon in China, by John Adams. I find that one absolutely entrancing. Never miss a chance to watch it when it is on television. It's not to everyone's taste, so be warned.
There you have it - your mileage may vary.
Allie Oop said...
Who is Penny? Is her daughter a good speller?
Is Penny here? I can recommend a book. I just hope Penny isn't a witch.
I don't know , I'm just throwing that out there.
Thanks Sixty, will add those to my list. I love iTunes, music at your fingertips, good to listen to while taking my daily winter walk on the treadmill.
Can't be compared to walking around the lake on a warm summer day though, with an iPod.
Good points by Sixty. I completely agree.
I also like Rameau's operas, although they do have to be done by tolerable early music specialists. Les Musiciens du Louvre (or some such) have recorded a number of them, and you can find excerpts on YouTube. Too busy to find links just now.
Rameau (1683-1764, a rough contemporary of Bach) was very odd and adventuresome within the fairly stilted French style of the time. The plots are all over-the-top and/or whacko, which you expect in Baroque opera, but the music is always interesting and sometimes even beautiful. Love things like the 5-part chorus of shipwrecked sailors in "Les Indes Galantes" ("Ciel! Ciel!"), or the chorus of Indians backing up the Indian Princess in the same opera, singing of their happy forest home, while her would-be French lover is trying to woo her. Noble savages against European artifice. You know the plot.
Anyway, it's all great fun with charming music that frankly makes Mozart's lesser operas seem pretty dreary in comparison.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKvd4tMkFHc
will get you there - Rameau rox!
As I have grown old and increasingly deaf I have grown to prefer traditional instruments. Didn't like them 30 years ago, but now they sound good to me - I think they have more treble overtones, and since that portion of my hearing is fading, I really appreciate the sound of a nice 17th century violin, just sayin'.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=poIf8Jl6wBc&feature=endscreen&NR=1
That's a link to more Rameau, this time with dance. No idea who the choreographer is, but it is passable. I mean, it's not Twyla Tharp, but you know, not everyone can be.
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