Preface: I’m trying to take a nap. I need a nap. But Mamie (who is rolling silverware at 1:15 pm—I don’t even know anymore) is screaming, BLOG! BLOG! MOOOVE! And so I am. Because we’re afraid if we don’t do this all the time, if we don’t keep the energy up, we’ll lose you. You. All two of you. So.
Late summer, and I’m on my way from Greenville to Wilmington for the millionth time. I’ve called Mamie to complain about being stuck in traffic for the last hour. ‘I never hit traffic.’ She sounds both disapproving and accusatory. I get back at her by calling every time that song ‘I wanna buy you a draaaank,’ comes on and blasting it into the phone because I’m not a day over twelve.
All eleven Pride and Prejudice cds from 1989 are long gone. Likewise, Under the Banner of Heaven. And all my This American Life episodes. So I pop out to put in some Spanish language cds. It’s the best I can do people. No one loves traveling more than I do. No one knows better the value of immersion, but it’s slowly dawning on me: I’m not a millionaire. I don’t know how I’ve ever afforded travel, but whatever fantasy life I was living is slipping away.
So, I’m sitting there. The engine is off (to save gas, to save money) and I’m earnestly repeating the Spanish. At first it’s normal. Where is the bus, what time is the train. Thirty minutes later, I’m STILL sitting there. The road is a pile of melting cars. I’m vacant. And then suddenly, I realize something vaguely disturbing: I am fat. I am fat. This is what I’m saying. What the cd people are making me say. I suspiciously chant, I used to be skinny, but now I’m fat. I used to be skinny, but now I’m fat. Those women, over there, are beautiful….
And THEN: I thought he liked me. I thought he liked me. I thought he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t. I thought he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t. His parents do not approve. His parents do not approve. I mean, wtf??
I skip to the next lesson. WORSE AND WORSE. I am poor, I am poor. Totally panicking at this point, I jump to the next disc. Swear to God, this is what I get:
He cannot find the correct lubricant. He cannot find the correct lubricant.
Followed by…
All of these activities are unsafe. All of these activities are unsafe.
Nap now. Goodbye.
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6 comments:
ella esta teniendo un bebe.
she is having a baby.
nunca estoy saliendo del restaurante.
i am never leaving the restaurant.
los ninos no nos respetan.
the children do not respect us.
no oculte el vino.
i did not hide the wine.
we're going to break your spirit
we're going to break your spirit
i am horrified that when i do my french cd thing they will indeed recount secret subliminal things that will make me want to hate myself... i am forewarned.
happy blogging!
ooo, mendacious, do not lose hope! i have two diff sets of french cds, and they're both happy.
in fact, one is frightfully upbeat: they SING everything. it's a musical, with a story line. nowhere on the packaging did it say this, but somehow it works. at stoplights, other people look over and see me belting out things like, 'Je pense que je suis amoouureux!!' hm. now that i write it, this all just sounds a). lame b). lame. :)
Sounds like Cool-hand Luke all over again; the CDs break you down and build you back up with only hand selected, top notch, and most used phrases placed on their CDs. Guaranteed to depress, guaranteed to make you cry…..in Spanish, or commit suicide while stuffing your face with flan. Sometimes I think they don’t want us to learn their language, they don’t want us in their club, they will not teach the secret handshake, but damn it he will eventually bring you the correct lube.
oh my god. i did not know this story. this is amazing. i hope you put the cds in front of your car and drove over them.
currently, the only spanish words i can remember are aceitunas (olives) and querer.
quiero las aceitunas. ahora.
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