Two completely unrelated topics have been on my mind lately, but last night I realized that if I were to make a Venn diagram of them just for kicks, the intersecty part would contain a joke that my mother used to tell.
It’s fiery hot here. The temperature has been above 100 for nine days in a row, breaking all sorts of records and launching the weathermen into a state of frenzied excitement about the milestone. We watch wearily, dripping sweat and praying for a balmy 95 degree day.
Speaking of fire, Bill took the boys to get their soccer uniforms and the Bananarama remake of the Shocking Blue song “Venus” came on the radio. My genitally-obsessed boys came home singing “I’m your penis, I’m your fire…” until I told them I saw enough penises on a daily basis and did not want to hear about them in song.
There’s been some chatter on various blogs lately about Southern accents, and I confess that I have one. My boys learned to say “milk” as a two-syllable word (“mee-ulk”) and it wasn’t until someone remarked on it that I thought to monitor their conversations and prevent them from sounding completely Deliverance-like, although we can do that if you want. I’ve also been told I do a mean imitation of Carley, Will Ferrell’s wife in Talladega Nights, and I must say, I’m not really acting when I say, “Y’all come to dinner! I’ve been slavin’ over this food!”
Really, I suppose that MetroDad would be the best judge of the thickness of my accent, as he was gracious enough to take the boys and me to lunch when we were in New York recently. Once we sized each other up and determined that neither of us was an axe murderer and we were, in fact, both music-listening, New Yorker reading, grammar-fanatic foodie travel parent bloggers, we had a wonderful time.
Alternatively you could check out our movie again and see if I sound more like Scarlett or like an anchorwoman (albeit one who finds a nasty surprise in her bed).
All this musing on penises and Southern accents compelled me to construct my first ever non-required Venn diagram.
Figure 1 demonstrates that the part I told you about the heat was merely informative and not crucial to the column. But still– 104 degrees. I thought you should know.
Next you see that the union (that’s the part where the circles overlap) of penis talk and southern accents is my mom’s joke.
Most of you didn’t know my mom. Her picture is in this post. More importantly, you must know that she had a classic Southern accent, and dropped her r’s, so that the word “bard” would sound more like “bahhd” and it would take her a while to say it.
My Mom’s Joke
(told for years after the event had dropped from public consciousness):
Mom: (giggling naughtily at the Thanksgiving table) “Do you know what John Wayne Bobbitt said when his new girlfriend wanted to make love?”
Family: (shocked that Mom would say “make love” )”No, what did he say?”
Mom: (drawling more than ever) “He said, ‘I’d love to honey, but it’s haahhhd to get haahhd when your dick’s in the yaahhd.'”
That was the only joke I ever heard her tell, but Lord, she loved to tell it.