No Matter How You Cut It.....

Growing up as a kid, 'fart' was a bad word in my household. Or at least, it was considered vulgar -- the first f-word I learned that I was scolded for using. I guess some habits die hard. As an adult, I still don't like the word.

That begs the question, "so, what do you call it?"

As you can imagine, with two strapping young lads in the household, it is a common enough occurrence. It's the timeless giggle inducer -- the ultimate punchline. Dad gets in on the action sometimes too, I must admit (never the Mom, though. Girls never toot, right?).

The other day, I asked "who cut the cheese?" as the telltale remnants of a covert release reached my olfactory senses. I was stunned to learn that my kids had never heard the phrase and didn't know what it meant. This, then, led to a fun-filled discussion of all the ways we could express the act of 'tooting'.

There were many.

My mom used to call it 'windy', as in the wind blowing, I guess. She'd say "Whooo. Did you windy?" I never cared much for the weather allegory, though. It still makes my nose wrinkle to hear it (pun intended).

My nephew Josh asked me once, "Did you bluff?" I've always kinda liked this term. It's subtle, and clever. A common response to that one is "Nope. It's the real deal. I'm all in" (that there is poker talk, in case you want to act like you don't know).

My wife introduced me to the 'spider bark' term early in our marriage. In response to my question "what was that?", she said "It must've been a spider bark". Of course, if you'll refer back to the second paragraph of this post, you'll note that the Mom never toots. Therefore, in that particular instance (and many since) it must've really been a spider bark.

SBD stands for 'Silent But Deadly'. These are strictly banned at our house as all fun ends when these occur. The player must leave the room (and preferably the house) if one of these is imminent.

Anyway, maybe you don't talk about stuff like this in your household -- we may just be tacky and uncultured. Or, it may be because we don't have an indoor dog to blame it on.

So what term do you use?

Things Kids Say, Part 2

From the Griff comes these two terms:

Re-mem-ber-ized.
Def.: To commit to memory, past tense.
Example: "Today, I rememberized two new Bible verses."

Di-nag-ol-lee.
Def.: A line that traverses neither horizontally or vertically, but at some angle in between.
Example: "To draw a triangle, draw a straight line up, then a straight line sideways, then connect them with a line dinagollee."

Smile

Recently, I had the opportunity to visit our Nation’s capital and meet with some members of Congress, the Senate, and with armies of congressional staff members. In the natural course of doing this, I was, of course, subjected to multiple security screenings and encounters with the Capital Police. For the most part, these folks are serious, down-to-business, and at times, slightly rude.

There was one exception, though.

I was patiently waiting in line for security screening along with my boss in one of the Congressional office buildings when he unleashed one of his notorious sneezes, the likes of which, I assure you, you have never heard. First of all, his sneezes are very loud. Secondly, the second half of his sneeze, the ‘choo’ part, if you will, is part air-raid siren, and part thirteen-year-old-girl-who-has-just-been-goosed-after-watching-‘The Ring’. It’s the kind of event that silences a crowded hallway of people previously gabbing and honking like geese as they look around to make sure that everything is ok.

I stood there grinning as my boss moved ahead of me and through the metal detector -- I couldn’t help it. I had this silly vision in my head of the Capital police and the soldiers who I had seen earlier in the day on the Capital steps all charging in to surround us, guns drawn, red laser beams illuminating the walls and ceiling like so many fireflies, and looking for the source of that horrible and frightening noise, all the while accompanied by the soundtrack to the T.V. show, “24”. I was seriously grinning this big dorky smile and my eyes were watering as I noticed that there was a gap in the line because I was next, and hadn’t proceeded through the metal detector, or even emptied my pockets.

I made eye contact with the officer on the other side of the metal detector and prepared to step through. (** In case you don’t know this, it is a serious breach of protocol to enter a metal detector until the chief metal-detector officer motions you through. This is typically done with an abrupt, salute-like motion of the first and second fingers of their right hand, held slightly below chest-level. This motion may be accompanied by a curt nod of the head and some audible cue, but not always. If you go to an airport, or a secure government building DO NOT enter the metal detector without receiving this cue or you will be faced with the embarrassing procedure of having to circle around the device and go through again, much to the disdain and disgust of said officer.)

As I stepped through, having received the proscribed “come-through” motion from the chief metal-detector officer, the officer behind the x-ray monitor, an attractive black woman, said “Now what are you grinning about?”

“I’m just a happy man,” I blurted, still laughing about the sneeze, but now concerned about getting cuffed.

She was smiling now, and speaking to the chief metal-detector officer, also a woman, she said “Well, a happy man. How about that?” And then, “Oh too bad. He’s a married, happy man,” as she spied my ring.

At this point I realized that I was being flirted with, and, I confess, I kind of liked it. The soundtrack in my head abruptly changed from “24” to Mick Jagger singing about Brown Sugar. I knew any attempts at a clever come-back at this point would fail due to a lethargic “come-back” chromosome, so I simply said “I’m a happy man, and a happily married man.” And I painted her with my best, charmer smile.

At this point, she was interviewing me about my family tree. “You got any cousins at home? Any cousins that you can send my way?” I liked the way she said cousins – “cooz-ins”.

Now the two officers were engaged with each other, laughing and talking about the rarity of a happy man, and that there must be something wrong with me. I hurried to catch up with my boss, still smiling, just in time for him to launch another sneeze.

Later, it occurred to me that I stood out to this Police officer, not because of my natural good looks and charm (kidding– I’m not that arrogant), but because I was smiling. I began to look around at people and realized that no one smiles, especially in D.C. In fact, most folks walk around with a scowl on their face (I was later to learn that this is a natural defense mechanism to keep beggars away. I was approached by a several beggars – had to stop smiling – but that’s another blog topic).

So, if you want to capture someone’s attention….smile.