I'm a little slow today. I just switched to Sanka. So...have a heart?

Thursday, June 02, 2005

Words I love.

There are certain words that always make me laugh. Jess said one of them in her post on my post about how much I'm in love with Dave Lieberman. (Dave...call me.)

I guess the word that started this entire blog posting is the word, "Nana." I think this word is by far one of the funniest words to use in casual conversation. It's probably only funny, though, if you're Jewish. If you're Jewish, referring to, "Nana" in conversation, immediately conjures up images which are sort of indescribable -- however, the biggest association I have with the word, "Nana" is in some indirect guilt trip. More on that later. For me, the word, "Nana" means my great grandmother, who finally died at the age of like 95 in 1990. That lady scared the crap out of me. Apparently, she was a "very cool" woman who was smart and a matriarch and funny and stuff. I remember she had one tooth, once told me about her hot water heater when she was a girl in the 1800s, and wore glasses. That, and she scared the shit out of me and was basically deaf. Did I mention I was petrified of her? Honestly. When I had to kiss Nana it was like telling me to, "Go down that dark, slippery set of spiral stone stairs, into the unlit dungeon where generations of pirates were tortured and hanged." I was scared.

But Nana's dead now, and I regret that I never got to know her, and was so scared of her when I was alive.

But back to the word, "Nana." The word, "Nana" is used in situations like these: "You pierced your eyebrow. I shouldn't wonder if this is what will send Nana to her grave;" "What did you say your date's name was? Mbwatu Ogonkwo? And he's an artist? You're going to break your Nana's heart;" "Nana is in the hospital again. She said she hasn't spoken to you in weeks, and wondered if you got that card she sent - she hasn't been feeling well enough to look to see if you cashed the check. She wanted you to give her a call, not to say thank you, but to tell her whether you have or not, so she can balance her checkbook" (Grandma pulled that one on me once...;) "Nana's sleeping in your room right now. She wasn't feeling good, so she took a nap;" "Nana sent you some ruglach. Call Nana and thank her;" "Nana wanted to know whether she could come to your Law School Graduation...what with her not walking so well anymore, she didn't want to be a burden;" "Uncle Moe died. Nana would like it if you came to the funeral."

The word "Nana" is used in those situations. Nana is short, with silvery hair, a jar of Ba-Tempte (Means tasty!) pickles on the fridge door and a white Corningware dish of chopped liver right next to the box of Streit's Matzoh in the fridge. She has candy in a dish, candy in her purse, and her apartment building probably smells like chicken soup and boiled cabbage. Nana doesn't like anyone but the Jews, and she has deep "frown lines" etched in her face. She wears beige shoes and probably stirs ketchup into cottage cheese. Nana also probably farts when she walks, occasionally.

So that's the word, "Nana" for you, and why I think it's funny. The word opens up this world of fatalism, and boiled cabbage/mothball smell, guilt and dried-out chicken or brisket. I think Grandma is a much cuddlier word, smelling like chicken soup, and ruglach, Shower-to-Shower powder and rice krispies with banana. Nanas are angular and hard to hug, Grandmas are pillowy like hugging a human beignet.

Other words I love: Caterpillar, titmouse (that's for you, Mike), Boobies, Bazoombies, Guzzle, Glug, Castanets, Larm, aspirin, geschuchte, Tennessee, Hingham, Stoughton, Canton, Roxbury, Tropical, Dizzy, Clam bake, triglyceride, Natick, broad side, lamp shade, envelope, Guatemala, carton, product, Hyanis, lamprey, octaroon, catastrophe, freon, Auntie, Schenectedy, Cheddar, Gloucester, Aragon, Salamanca, Scheindlin, frizz, wankle rotary engine, peach pit, stink eye, surreptitious, effluvia, popsicle, Hoboken, Annapolis, Joppatowne, ass, cranberry.

That is all.

Why? You're such a dork? Why? I love you.

Be mine. Please. I love you.

Once again, Dave Liberman will be mine.

I just watched the "Good Deal" wherein Dave Liberman cooks for his bitchy cousin. I am officially in love with him. I would...not lose a toe to have him be my boyfriend, but I'd let someone pull off my toenail? Maybe?

Bottom line... I literally drool over him on Television. He is such a tremendous dork. A Jewy dork...who is whisking things and grinning. I have dirty, dirty thoughts. Also, I scrutinize his show for things he may do that might annoy me. THERE ARE NONE! I TRY to find something wrong with him, so I can not love him as much as I do, but alas! There is nothing! I am obsessed! ::sigh::

I will NEVER find anyone like him in Miami. We don't have any nerdy Jews that are 1) smokingly cute, 2) good cooks, 3) uber smiley and 3) very likely to walk into a mailbox/lightpole/support beam/parking meter.

Know who I don't like? Tyler Florence. In the beginning, I thought he was really cute... But the more I watch his show, the more annoying he gets. He's always talking with his mouth full, and making eating noises, and saying, "Fantastic..." I don't know. Next time I watch his show, I'm going to count the number of times he says "fantastic" every episode. Just like Spence and Jess made up a drinking game for Ray-Ray, I may have one for Tyler Florence... I'll drink whenever he peels his mouth back from his teeth awkwardly, whenever he says fantastic, whenever he talks with his mouth full, whenever he makes some sort of awkward comment, and whenever he ends an "ing" verb in "in" like "choppin'," "workin'," you get the picture.

Also, I've realized that my tastebuds must be approaching "old" status. Want to know how I know that? When I was little, I used to be the super-leftover chicken-taster-sleuth. If there was leftover chicken in something, I KNEW! My parents would scoff and say, "You're crazy! Leftover chicken doesn't taste different than normal chicken! This is fresh chicken! Eat it!" I would merely turn up my nose and demand a peanutbutter and jelly sandwich (after the great, "Food Wars" of 1985, '86, '87, '88 and '89," where I would scream and cry and pound to avoid eating things that it turns out I like now... we worked out a compromise. All I had to eat every meal was a peanutbutter and jelly sandwich, to get out of having to eat nasty things like... well, basically anything.)

Well. I was always right, and they were lying to me. I could ALWAYS taste leftover chicken. To me, it tasted completely and totally different.

Well. Not anymore.


I must be getting old. I have to go eat leftover chicken now.