Pronunciation is Everything.

The Boffin, The Sprog, and I are currently researching venues for her upcoming Bat Mitzvah.  I was looking at a site that had an 80s arcade and saw that they had a favorite game of mine, Galaga.

video_game_-_ms_pacman_and_galaga
Seen here with another favorite of mine, Ms. Pac Man. I lost hours of my life with these two. Photo courtesy of Brian Katt at the English language Wikipedia

Upon mentioning this to The Boffin, his response?

“Which one? The game or the guy with the watermelons?”

giphy

It took me a few seconds to figure out who he was talking about since Gallagher had not crossed my mind in years.

Now I am waiting for him to bring up The Gong Show and Charo.

I Mumble; Therefore, I am Angry.

After 15 years of marriage, The Boffin and I still cross our communication signals like all couples do.  We join the Mutual Irritation Society over my mumbling.  It’s simple.  I mumble to myself to process my thoughts.  He automatically assumes something is wrong and asks if I am OK.  I get annoyed that he assumes that I am angry yet again.  He gets annoyed that I am annoyed that he is looking out for my welfare.

And so it goes.

When it happened yet again this morning, we knew it was a blog post.  The Boffin said, to him, it’s an environmental thing.  Where he grew up, muttering to yourself meant that you were angry, and he can’t escape that social conditioning.

There is a popular Twitter account called Very British Problems that has even turned into a TV show.  It discusses the stages of anger.

The Boffin thinks that needs to be compressed a bit.

In order to severity:

1) Look everywhere else but at the person

2) Shake your head slowly, outside of their peripheral vision

3) Mumble

4) Tut

5) Stare aggressively at the back of the offender’s head

6) Invade the offender’s 2ft personal space radius

7) Engage them in polite conversation. Persist until they leave.

I can’t help but think his being in America so long has him resorting to the nuclear option of engaging in polite conversation.  And I am not sure where writing letters falls into this.

Regardless, back to our marriage, he knows when I am truly angry because I am a slow burner who goes silent.  I can control my temper very well, and someone can intervene to keep me calm and reason with me when I am on the edge.

But when I go…well, as far as having a “fight or flight” impulse, The Boffin has stated that there is not much flight in me.  I mostly have “grenade or baseball bat”.  Let me put it this way, whenever I take a The Big Lebowski personality quiz, Walter Sobchak always shows up.

walter-sobchak-shomer-shabbos
And no, I don’t roll on Shabbos either because I can’t bowl to save my life.

It is a case of my husband knowing my true personality vs. a conditioned response.

Some will say we are perpetuating stereotypes by proposing this idea. It is a valid comment. Of course, not all Britons mumble when they are angry and not all Britons would interpret mumbling as anger.

However, we are also talking about communication and how society agrees on what gestures and actions mean. Verbal language is hard enough, and we have dictionaries and other reference materials as guides. The Boffin is not the first British person who has interpreted my mumbling as “She’s in a strop,” which is something I have never encountered on this side of the Pond.  My mumbling has been interpreted as confusion over here, which is a different stereotype altogether.

So I can only give you my narrow experience with this, and I know it is not definitive. It would be interesting to hear how others have had their actions interpreted internationally.

Of Custard Powder and Fables

I ordered Horne’s custard powder from Canada, and, to all the Britons out there, no, The Boffin is not starting divorce proceedings.  To the Americans out there, custard powder is a staple within the U.K. and many Commonwealth countries because custard is either served by itself, primarily to children, or it is served with so many desserts the same way you would with whipped cream or ice cream.  It is much quicker and easier to make than traditional custard because you don’t have to worry about curdled eggs.  All you have to do is heat with milk.

It was first invented by a chemist named Alfred Bird of Swansea back in 1837 because his wife was allergic to eggs and couldn’t enjoy traditional custard.  Mrs. Bird was a lucky lass, I say.

The British brand of choice is still Bird’s custard powder, and The Boffin still thinks it has a smoother, silkier mouth feel.  However, we decided to pick up a tin of Horne’s when we visited Canada.  I happen to like that brand better because it has vanilla, and it has four different starches which give it a fuller texture.  So we decided to alternate tins.  This is how an Anglo-American marriage works, folks.  Neither side claims superiority.

Besides, Bird’s is better for making custard creams.

Regardless, the Canadian company where I bought the powder sent a fable with its packing slip.  Service with a smile, so I thought I would pass it along.

canadian-fable

 

 

Marital Codes or Why We Don’t Have Many Friends

The Boffin and I will be celebrating our 15th anniversary on December 28th. And I realize, like many couples who have been together a long time, we have come up with our own code words and phrases that make sense to us but classify us as weirdos to the general public. I thought I would share a few in the spirit of making us just a little more understandable.

Lord Lucan 1 – “Lord Lucan” has become a long lost object: the forgotten leftover in the back of the fridge, the screwdriver that had been misplaced, that important piece of paperwork that was needed a month ago, etc. You get the idea. “I’ve found Lord Lucan!” is the tip-off sentence.

John Mills 2 – The ideal of masculinity that I jokingly thrust upon the Boffin.  I even have John Mills’s picture as the avatar for the Boffin’s contact info on my phone.

John Major voice – The Boffin is good at the former prime minister’s voice and characterizing this person. It is the voice of the overly educated, pedantic Englishman who complains about the most nitnoid things. (I don’t want to hear a word from the Boffin’s family.) It is the voice of the worst letters sent to Points of View. It is the person pointing out the blatantly obvious who is taking everything literally. The Boffin just wrote this letter as an example.

Dear Sir,

After 15 years of almost daily use, my Worthington Bishop 12oz teapot recently met with an untimely accident.  As a result, I found to necessary to procure a new teapot.  However, I was shocked and dismayed to discover that the Worthington Bishop no longer is made in the 12oz size, and I was therefore reluctantly force to buy the Worthington Bishop 16oz pot.  However, I have discovered that because I only fill the pot with 12oz of water. In order to compensate for the additional evaporative cooling resulting from the larger headspace, I have had to raise my house’s thermostat by 0.1°C (not an easy feat as it generally increments by only 1°C).  Assuming that this pot also lasts me 15 years, and similar issues are happening in every household in the United Kingdom, I have estimated that this will force us as a nation to consume the same amount of energy as Huddersfield consumes in about 1 minute and 23.2 seconds.

In keeping with the Government’s environmental policies, I suggest that you reintroduce the Worthington Bishop 12oz pot and, perhaps, bring out it’s Eco-qualities in your marketing campaign.

Yours Sincerely

Mr Herbert Q. Pedant

George and Mildred 3 – The elderly couple cruising at 20 mph in front of us.

Tom and Barbara 4 – Whenever The Boffin and I are in a gardening or, more likely, in an us-against-the world mode.

Woody and Tinny Words – Woody words are pleasant sounding words. Tinny words are harsh sounding ones.  Thank Monty Python for this one.

“My Hovercraft is Full of Eels” – Our response to a nonsensical statement. Of course, we have to attribute this to Monty Python too.

I like cheese. – Code for “My brain hurts. Let’s talk about nice things.”  Sylvester and co. are our friends.

PEOPLE! AAAAH! – Quoting Gossamer from the Bugs Bunny cartoon. Our “Stop the World, I Want to Get Off” exclamation.

So, do you and your partner have any odd phrases you want to share?

1. To make a long story short, John Bingham, the 7th Earl of Lucan disappeared in 1974 disappeared upon having a warrant for his arrest for the murder of his children’s nanny and the assault of his wife. To those in America, chances are, you haven’t heard of him. He was quite an interesting character to say the least.

2. If anyone has heard of Sir John Mills in the U.S., it is usually either as Hayley’s dad or the father from Swiss Family Robinson. Meanwhile, from the 1940s to the early 1960s, he pretty much epitomized English film masculinity: stiff upper lip, courage under fire, wry humor, knowing when to break the rules and when to conform. The running joke is that nobody has seen the beginning of Ice Cold in Alex in years because they happen to catch it while channel flipping and remain stuck watching it until the end. Sir John Mills never mattered to me until I met the Boffin.

3. George and Mildred was a spinoff sitcom of Man about the House. It was the equivalent of The Ropers being the spinoff of Three’s Company.

4. From the sitcom The Good Life or Good Neighbors, depending on where you live. Tom and Barbara Good, played by Richard Briers and Felicity Kendall respectively, were a couple living in the London suburbs who decided to become self-sufficient by growing their own food, raising livestock, and bartering to meet their needs.  The disconnect between the two worlds made for some classic comic moments.

The Sun Is Out to Get Me…Hip-Hip-Hip-Hooray!

The Boffin and I just dropped off The Sprog at Sunday school and were driving to the grocery store eastbound on one of the characteristically straight main roads that are so common in the grid system that connects Chicagoland. I was in the passenger seat, and the sun’s position was such that its rays decided that it would be fun to bore a hole into my temple. All I wanted to do was get some food, and the sun wants to play Space Invaders with my brain.

As I flipped the visor over, I opined in my genteel way about how the sun is harsher here in the Midwest as opposed to the Northeast. I believe I said something along the lines of, “The sun’s an asshole!”

This when The Boffin explained to me that the sun is no different here. We aren’t driving on roads that bend and twist as much. I am sitting in the same position for a longer period, therefore the sun has more of an opportunity to fry my cranium.

But I maintain since the sun takes advantage of the grid system and my vulnerablity, at the very least, it acts like a five-year-old with a magnifying glass, and I am a mere ant.

See.  It is just matter of time before it starts using me for target practice.  Dick.  "Giant prominence on the sun erupted" by NASA/SDO/AIA/Goddard Space Flight Center
See. It is just matter of time before it starts using me for target practice. “Giant prominence on the sun erupted” by NASA/SDO/AIA/Goddard Space Flight Center

Regardless, Chicagoland, the grid system is overrated. A few fluctuations in the roads can decrease head trauma. Or spouses like The Boffin from rants like mine.

He’s No Fun.

So The Boffin was giving his face a once over with a razor before his flight to Houston yesterday. I was hovering just outside the bathroom, and, given how easily my propensity is toward boredom, I decided to stretch a Pilates band over my nose and mouth and make kazoo noises.  Naturally, it had to ignite another one of our mock arguments.

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The Boffin exclaimed, “Would you stop trying to kill yourself?!?”

Me: “WHAT!? What am I doing?”

Really, this is on the milder end of my self amusement spectrum.

The Boffin: “You are like Roger Rabbit with the tool kit when he was sticking the file in his ear.”

Me: “You don’t understand.”

The Boffin: “What do you mean I don’t understand!?!? I just gave an analogy that describes your behavior perfectly!”

Me: “But you don’t get it at a deeper level!”

The Boffin: “Just because I don’t understand how tornadoes are formed exactly doesn’t mean I don’t know what do when the alarms go off!”

But can’t he chase the tornadoes sometimes to see what they feel like?

Books I Haven’t Written

One thing I haven’t gotten around to doing is writing a book, but I started playing around with titles.  Of course, when I start talking about these sorts of things, The Boffin has to get in on the act.  Here are the products of our brilliance.

1001 Scenic Places to Scratch Your Nads

Great Moments in Extreme Sheep Shearing

How to Get the Shit Kicked Out of You at a Craft Fair

Setting Fire to Stuff for Fun and Profit

Toilets The Boffin Has Clogged: A Coffee Table Book

Faces on Which I Want to Rub My Bunghole by Lola

037
Come to Lola.  I must leave my scent.

The Papua New Guinea Aborigine’s Guide to Philadelphia

Just Throw Some Fucking Sprinkles on It:  A Realistic Guide to Cake Decorating

Scary Relatives in Their Underwear

Recipes to Make You Vomit

Bonus points if you can guess which one of us came up with which title.