Wednesday, October 08, 2003

My Word!

Episode 678, in which I am, apparently, linguistically damaged in some fashion:

I guess it's okay to admit now that over the past few weeks, whenever I heard or read the name Bustamante, my brain rendered it as "bust-a-move".

Well, it's probably not okay, but...

Also, I seem to have recently adopted a peculiar pair of curse phrases, uncharactistically tame stand-ins for harsher language. For example, instead of invoking the colorful "Hell's bells!" -- which I unwittingly inherited from my father -- as I usually do when matters take a turn for the absurd, today I was heard to exclaim "Holly Hobby!" in frustration and mild anger.

I mean, come on! Holly Hobby?

A few weeks ago, attempting to calm an unusually rambunctious dog, I turned and shouted for him to "Cool it!" which, somehow, the speech center of my addled grey matter turned to "Culottes!"

And to think I haven't had any good grass in weeks.