A Hen's Genitals and Eternal Damnation
My grandmother is a 67-year-old, kindly, sweet, tender old lady. Well, leave out the everything but the "67-year-old" part and somewhere therein lies the truth. She is honestly one of the toughest chicks you will ever meet. Maw, as we call her, is about 5'7, 130 pounds, and keeps her hair cut in that close-to-the-head permed manner that most elderly ladies 'round these parts pay good money for. She smokes, says "shit" whenever she dang well pleases, and can outwork just about anybody I know, men included. She brags about the sex life she and her second husband enjoy (he's an amputee, which I'm almost certain is nonrelated). In other words, she's not your grandma. She's mine, and I love her to pieces.
Maw has a tendence, though, to mispronounce or misconstrue some common everyday terms. Mind you, no one corrects Maw. She gave her eldest and dearest son a whipping with a willow switch when he turned up late after a night carousing with his friends (he was 22 at the time), so I'm not taking any chances. Anyway, here are two of my favorite examples of Mawspeak.
At 14, I developed an obsession with the movie "101 Dalmatians," buying anything and everything with a dalmatian on it. I just loved those little spotty dogs. Still do. In fact, my favorite 101 Dalmatians keychain burned up last year when my car exploded, so, if you come across one, dear friend, please send it my way. But I digress. Maw loves me very much. I'm her baby, one of the few people in the world she coddles and cuddles. So, she told my grandfather one day, "Ray, I'm going to get Deonna one of those damnations."
"What did you say, woman?" my grandfather asked, his eyebrows meeting with his hairline.
"I said I'm going to get Helen to take me to the pet store and get Sissy one of those damnations," she replied.
And now, in my family, spotty dogs will forever be known as "damnations."
Another example of Mawspeak: A few years ago, I took Maw shopping and then stopped at McDonald's for a quick lunch. She told me, "Order me one of those chicken vaginas."
I realized that she meant a chicken fajita. The lady behind the counter did not.
She was a second away from searching Maw for a slingblade when I said, "Two chicken fajitas, please." I'm sure that the poor McD's girl felt that she had misheard and wanted to make amends, mainly because she slipped Maw an extra apple pie.
And now, in my family, chicken fajitas are chicken vaginas.
SO, if you're ever in my neck of the woods, come on by. We'll sit on Maw's porch, watch the deer play in the field, listen to the damnations bark, and maybe, just maybe, we'll eat a couple of those delicious chicken vaginas.
Maw has a tendence, though, to mispronounce or misconstrue some common everyday terms. Mind you, no one corrects Maw. She gave her eldest and dearest son a whipping with a willow switch when he turned up late after a night carousing with his friends (he was 22 at the time), so I'm not taking any chances. Anyway, here are two of my favorite examples of Mawspeak.
At 14, I developed an obsession with the movie "101 Dalmatians," buying anything and everything with a dalmatian on it. I just loved those little spotty dogs. Still do. In fact, my favorite 101 Dalmatians keychain burned up last year when my car exploded, so, if you come across one, dear friend, please send it my way. But I digress. Maw loves me very much. I'm her baby, one of the few people in the world she coddles and cuddles. So, she told my grandfather one day, "Ray, I'm going to get Deonna one of those damnations."
"What did you say, woman?" my grandfather asked, his eyebrows meeting with his hairline.
"I said I'm going to get Helen to take me to the pet store and get Sissy one of those damnations," she replied.
And now, in my family, spotty dogs will forever be known as "damnations."
Another example of Mawspeak: A few years ago, I took Maw shopping and then stopped at McDonald's for a quick lunch. She told me, "Order me one of those chicken vaginas."
I realized that she meant a chicken fajita. The lady behind the counter did not.
She was a second away from searching Maw for a slingblade when I said, "Two chicken fajitas, please." I'm sure that the poor McD's girl felt that she had misheard and wanted to make amends, mainly because she slipped Maw an extra apple pie.
And now, in my family, chicken fajitas are chicken vaginas.
SO, if you're ever in my neck of the woods, come on by. We'll sit on Maw's porch, watch the deer play in the field, listen to the damnations bark, and maybe, just maybe, we'll eat a couple of those delicious chicken vaginas.
posted by Deonna at 10:53 PM
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