Where the hell was Trooper York?
In Atlantic City with the wife and all her friends.
We went on Friday and left all out troubles behind. No computers. No email. No internet.
Just drunken frolic. Me and seven menopausal women celebrating a fiftieth birthday!
Lots of stories to follow.
62 comments:
Nobody in that group looks like a craps player. Slots and a little blackjack is my guess. Never drink and gamble. A couple drinks is ok, but there's a reason they give them away.
Lady's night out.
Hi everyone! How are you? I had a really productive day.
How was your weekend? I hope you are all terrific!
Love ya,
Hugs,
Tits.
Seven menopausals. Were the hot flashes in synch?
Where is my little Catfish?
is that what you're calling it these days?
Sorry to hear that.
I don't know if you were commenting to me Chip but Mamam is my Catfish.
MamaM isn't a slick bottom-feeder, so you can understand my confusion.
Titus is hooked on MamaM. She's just playing him out before reeling him in.
When I was in 6th grade, the 8th graders successfully persuaded the authorities to install a juke box in the cafeteria. This song was in heavy rotation. Draggin' The Line.
I am ready for Mamam to reel me in and scale me, filet me, deep fry me and finally eat me.
Bon Ape Tit.
Tommy James is still touring. Check it out, Titus: he's playing the Ho-Chunk Casino in a couple weeks: link. If he comes out to CA, I'm there!
Fascinating story behind Tommy James' first song, Hanky Panky. Originally recorded in 1963, the song nearly died from lack of national promotion. James then graduated from high school and the band broke up. Three years later, Tommy sold the song and recording to a bigger company and it topped the charts in 1966.
It's a nice "never give up too soon" story.
Titus said...
I am ready for Mamam to reel me in and scale me, filet me, deep fry me and finally eat me.
I'm glad the "t" is silent in "filet."
Trooper may be the boulevardier of the menopausal set, so I hope he'll be gracious enough to pardon the interruption, tossing across his path this link to my latest belles lettres at a slightly tonier joint.
http://amba12.wordpress.com/2013/02/25/blogs-are-for-old-people/
Titus really misses those fab WI night clubs, esp. on all-u-can-eat fish fry nights.
Given that whole gay mafia New England hooliganism at the Academy Awards last night, this is for you Trooper.
A fine concept, Evi L. Bloggerlady, "The Real Housewives of Southie." But as someone who has lived here for 35 years (about 100 years shy of being considered "from heah"), I can tell you these are NOT the genuine article. These are high school drama teachers from 495-land, Waltham wannabies, and Northeastern grad students. The REAL Southie patois and manners are unique and beyond parody. Plus, these people are supposed to be Irish, but they have far too much Italian brio, derived, no doubt, from the foreign climes of Jersey Shore, to be depressingly convincing as genuine Hibernian white trash, unredeemed by the slightest thought of crossing into Quincy.
...genuine Hibernian white trash...
Oh I'm chuckling at that one, Tim. Classic phrasing.
TTB, I only pick at this nit b/c I think you'd be interested. If not, you know what to do.
I've always thought the word was "ambience", altho pronounced "ambiaaahnce." But when I saw that you spelled it "ambiance," I figured I must be wrong, so I looked it up.
Imagine my double surprise when I found that (1) the English word is indeed "ambience", but (2) the corresponding word in French is "ambiance".
It was like discovering that the French word for "envelope" is "onvelope".
BTW, I met a girl the other day who's a 21-y.o. blogger, so maybe it's not quite 21st-century shuffleboard. Yet.
Also BTW, "boulevardier" is one of my favorite words. I always enjoy seeing it used well.
I once had a near-girlfriend from Southie. But she was of the repressed, Catholic, stay-at-home until-26-to-take-care-of-her-younga-sistahs, top-floah-of-a-triple-deckah-sort. Her brothahs played hawckey, and the highlight of her life was meeting Bobby Orr.
I had her over for dinner one night, and I forgot some of the silverware. She says, "Wheah's yoah facks?" And I said, "Fox? I don't even have a dog!"
My future wife (also from California) lived in the same building, and when we met shortly after, we clung to each other like strangers in a strange land, happy and relieved we had at least a few words in common.
Should we infer that the Fair Southie Lass managed to pronounce Bobby Orr's name correctly, or should that have been "Bobby Aww"?
Chip: Interesting about that word. But I've given up trying to pronounce it. My wife, who when I met her, was fresh from Paris to Sommerville, always, in the best French manner, corrects every near-French word that happens to drop from my lips. As a result, I no longer make the slightest effort at French pronunciation, and, in fact don't even say words such as the title of that blog.
I will write them, however, and I thank you for appreciating boulevardier, a fine word if ever there was one.
I'm curious to know what makes the other joint "slightly tonier" TT?
As for the Catfish, she was out with her Whiskers for dinner at their favorite bar/restaurant, a decidedly untony place with wood paneling, spindles and booths covered in cracked red Naugahyde. The patrons are mostly over 40, there to drink, talk, laugh and eat food which can be counted on to be good, although there is a twenty five cent charge for Blue Cheese dressing (says so right in the menu so there won't be any unpleasant surprises on the bill) which they make themselves. We go to relax, converse and have a good time together.
Same is true here.
Ah, Chip, frankly, I don't remember how Meery (Southie for "Mary") pronounced Bobby Orr's name. It may have been something like "Owah," but it's been a long time.
I wondered if Bobby O was so revered (ha ha!) that they paid him the supreme compliment of keeping his rr's attached.
Oh, I'm certain you would supply your usual lustre to the place, Mama. It's just that it commonly doesn't include details of pinching loaves, for example, which I think most people would admit, elevates the tone somewhat.
Speaking of pinching loaves, did I ever play you my impression of Titus? chirbit
I once knew a kleptomaniac who pinched a loofah at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.
TTBurnett, I agree the reality cannot ever be truly captured, but for comic youtube clips, they worked. Especially the Super Bowl one (which we know ended with Troop's team winning).
Evi: Don't get me wrong. This crew is pretty funny. The REAL "Real Housewives of South Boston," however, would be so depressing, you'd want to kill yourself after 5 minutes, which I suspect Trooper wouldn't mind Bostonians doing in any event.
Celebrating the best of Wisconsin
We had just moved South when the movie Rhinestone (Stallone and Dolly Parton) came out. It was a bomb, both critically and at the box office, but my wife and I were crying in the theater when we watched it. The culture shock that Yankees experience upon being immersed into Southern culture was quite hilarious.
When I call Mamam my little catfish I think of it as a term on endearment-but like the movie, that was sad.
The only things bigger than Dolly's boobs are her heart and her acumen.
Every time I leave my locale, I realize afresh there are thousands of different ways to live. It's a big pond and everyone poops.
I meant not the like the movie which was sad.
Mamam makes me happy! She's a witty one.
tits.
Mamam, I think the same thing.
The one thing that bonds us all together is that we pinch loafs.
I think of that wherever I go and there you are.
Pinched loafs are really what link all of us, black, white, gay, straight, bicurious, hindi, rich, poor, but not Muzzie-
Did you guys know Honey Boo Boo is going Global!
Italy, Switzerland, Germany, UK, Latin America, South America.
How exciting.
Pinched loafs are really what link all of us, black, white, gay, straight, bicurious, hindi, rich, poor, but not Muzzie-
It also binds us with animals and every other species.
And men actually touch loaves in Provincetown.
I'd like to refer back to T.T.'s experience that the yute see blogs as old fogeyish and only do Facebook and tweeting. Does that mean that communication is to be limited in future to what I had for lunch today and/or one sentence or partial-sentence quips re the world of politainment? I'm not doubting the truth of what T.T. has observed in his classroom. Sounds like the death of thought - as in a thought can only be realized in the extended expression of it - to me.
I'm referring to T.T. at 11:17, click on wordpress.
Isn't Facebook (and Twitter for that matter) a closed forum, meaning that participants choose their own audience and are free to ignore or block conflicting opinions? Maybe the "yutes" just prefer more regulated speech or they find contentious banter a waste of time. Actually, I think what Troop runs here is a great compromise--the "speakeasy" alternative requiring the club owner's approval.
Chick, must everything be sexual innuendo with you?
And there is no loaf touching going on in Ptown.
What an awful thought.
Now clean it up Mary.
thanks.
tits.
I think of Mamam as Mama from Chicago "Fossie!!!!!, Jazz hands, kick ball change, step two, three.
She keeps this prison running smoothly-tit for tat and all that.
You be good to Mamam and she'll be good to you...bam bam ba da da da bam bump.
I imagine Mamam with a huge fan and a boa while typing.
Mama, played by Queen Latifah had incredibly large bosoms too.
tits.
Does that mean that communication is to be limited in future to what I had for lunch today and/or one sentence or partial-sentence quips re the world of politainment?
I thought that's been the status for quite awhile already.
It also binds us with animals and every other species.
And what separates or differentiates humans from other animals?
Regardless of whether blogs are for old people or not, anytime or anywhere a person has opportunity to be speak authentically, listen and respond sincerely, impart knowledge, employ humor, reveal creativity or affirm beauty something positive happens.
Prior to reading TT's post, this arrived via blog from another old person:
When Someone Deeply Listens To You
When someone deeply listens to you
it is like holding out a dented cup
you've had since childhood
and watching it fill up with
cold, fresh water.
When it balances on top of the brim,
you are understood.
When it overflows and touches your skin,
you are loved.
When someone deeply listens to you
the room where you stay
starts a new life
and the place where you wrote
your first poem
begins to glow in your mind's eye.
It is as if gold has been discovered!
When someone deeply listens to you
your barefeet are on the earth
and a beloved land that seemed distant
is now at home within you.
— John Fox
In my experience, the "yute" of today are more practiced and accomplished at keeping life's pain at an arm's length through the use of absurdity and surface relationship than they are at feeling at home with the ground beneath their feet.
Those who've lived with and experienced full and empty cups, with and without tits, have something good to offer, regardless of perceived interest or outcome.
And what separates or differentiates humans from other animals?
Bible says dominion; chemistry says number of DNA base pairs & chromosomes; common sense says higher intelligence.
Most animals and people are emotional in the same way but different in reasoning ability.
In my experience, the "yute" of today are more practiced and accomplished at keeping life's pain at an arm's length through the use of absurdity and surface relationship than they are at feeling at home with the ground beneath their feet.
That is totally true, MamaM. I see it every day.
Chick are you a scientist?
Sincerely I am asking and interested.
What the hell do you do for a living Chick?
I am also curious as to what the rest of you Troopettes do?
I am interested in details-w2 statements, how many properties and land owned, house value, happiness in work that you do, bonus, stock options?
Spill it bitches.
How are your property values doing? The housing here is going like gangbusters. I get cards weekly from realtors, with gift cards included, saying someone will buy my loft sight unseen, for 50k over the last place sold in this locale.
Mamam, I was busting your balls too about the entire "personal attacks". I was being very saracastic and not serious, making myself look like a hypocrite=like David Vitter.
You do know I think you are great. Can I ask what you look like? How would you describe yourself if someone asked you what you look like? You wit, sense of humor and intelligence are obvious but I am also interested in your face and overall appearance....my Catfish.
Hotted-up MamaM and cool 'LouiseM' of ambient temperature seem to be singing the same cantus firmus, appropriate to the descant in whichever choir stall or organ loft each, despite the thermometer, may find herself.
Two clues for you, TT, delivered in harmony, so there'd be no mistaking the voice or the composer. Once around that barn is enough.
@Titus: Yes. Looking. Fine, thank you.
So, there won't be an open bar?
Seven menopausal women sounds close to a minyan if not a constellation of sisters.
chickelit: For all the times I've listened to the song, I didn't know the words sung in the chorus were "draggin' the line"! If asked before I clicked on the link for the words I thought they were singing I'd have said with surety "hangin' around" which isn't even close. Anyway, Titus appears to have grabbed the reel, draggin' his own line of pointed interest.
One thing the fab livers in the Blue Hubs of High Realty Goodness don't seem to be aware of is the fact that the majority of the goods they use to enrich their lives, from tony sheets to toilet paper, ship out of distribution centers situated in southern states where land and labor is less expensive and more available. If the supply lines were to become compromised for physical or political reasons, fab lives would quickly become less fab. Georgia, North Carolina, Alabama, Texas, and Arizona are the states currently being invested in by high volume commercial suppliers.
The bubble will shift when the physical goods needed for daily living and the skilled trade labor required to keep things running become more costly and less available.
We don't have those industries here in fab country.
We are all about health care, high tech, biotech, venture capital, finance, fab education and gays.
We are the creative economy. We makes lots of money and have excellent degrees from prestigious universities.
We also have some of the highest housing costs in the country and which are competitive to get into. Multiple offers, bidding wars, etc.
Personally, the farthest South I will travel is DC.
I am perplexed about the voting rights thing at the Supreme Court. It's blacks vs the south. I want both of them to be angry so I don't give a shit who loses but that just one of those groups are pissed will nourish me. You know gays don't like blacks as much as they don't like the South.
Now Mamam, lets focus my catfish, stats please? Thanks Doll.
Tits.
We are all about health care, high tech, biotech, venture capital, finance, fab education and gays.
All of which require light bulbs and TP to function, along with someone who knows how to wire and plumb something beside thoughts, creative or otherwise.
I am ok with the grossie Midwest States that are dieing though. Because I was from there I can "accept" their grossness. I don't neccessarily like it or want to see it but what they do behind closed doors I am ok with.
That's how I roll.
tits.
Last year I helped a guy from the Midwest extract a couple million from a Boston company which "forgot" to name him as an inventor.
Oops! redistribution sucks.
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