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Monday, July 5, 2010

More wit and witticism from my grandmother

The Maine comedian, Bob Marley, always used to say "people ask me where I get the material for my shows... I just tell them, you come up to the house sometime."

That being said, my grandmother has been a source of humor for the better part of my life. Bitter, angry, humor, admittedly, but classic material once I was old enough to take her with a grain of salt. There was the time she called me a bitch at the tart old age of ten, and went on to tell me that she knew I had a dirty mouth after I took the Lord's name in vain - thankfully, I've since abrev'd that infamous phrase to OMG. There was the period of time where she told me that all prominent business owners in our town smoked pot, or graphic graphic details about those days when she would go parking in the public park of our town, (I'll spare you as I don't know if I've been the same since). She once started a rumor that my older cousin, who later had her erratic thyroid removed, was anorexic. And, for some reason, she's always looked at me and said "you're just like me, Kaity... the others are different, but you are just like me".  As one might imagine, this has been a source of many nightmares about aging.

Annnnyway, my list goes on, and on, and on. Much like that time that she told me that my grandfather used to turn her on, and on, and on.

Had to make sure that you caught the tone.

I give you this lead up to preface a classic old Mainer phrase, delivered this morning by my 92 year old grandmother. Much like something broken being "all stove up" or how everywhere you go, you're going upta or down, (as in "upta camp" meaning vacationing at your cabin on the lake or "down cellar" meaning you went into the basement). Maine practically has another language, which makes translation a recurring theme in my life.

Grammie looks at my poor little brother, after referring to both of us as handsome, and says "Ohhh, but I know you've been around. You've been touched more than the button on the shit house door".

Say whaaaaaaat? Did you just not only reference an outhouse, but compared the number of people touching my sweet little brother as more than those who use the bathroom? 

I'm sharing that nauseous little thought in the hope of expunging it from my collective conscience. Ick.

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