Wry On The Rocks

Just returned from 2 weeks on the Florida West Coast and have added a new rule for when I’m King:  women over 50 will not be allowed to wear bikini’s and men of any age will be banned from wearing thongs.

Another rule:  You must forfeit your drivers license if you can’t find your car within 30 minutes of randomly pushing your cart around the Publix parking lot.  (This problem has been compounded since they started making cars without antennas for the tennis balls.)

Diane Bozzi of Rochester, N.H. was the victum of a thief last week, who stole a urn from her unlocked car;  an urn containing her mother’s ashes.  Fourtunately, the thief wasn’t interested in Ms. Bozzi’s mother’s ashes and returned the urn several days later.   Ms. Bozzi explained that ever since her mother’s death in 2002 she has been carrying the ashes with her to her weekly bingo games because she brought her good luck.

This news is bound to hurt rabbit’s foot sales.

WROR, Boston Radio, has gone over to the dark side.  It’s not even Thankgiving yet, but they started playing Christmas music this morning!  Trust me when I say that you don’t want to wake up with a hangover to the sounds of Alvin and The Chipmunks.  I never realized that the song goes on for about 3 and a half hours.

Then there’s Gene Autry and Santa Claus is Coming to Town.  Only everybodys favorite cowboy zillionaire pronounces it San_TEE Claus!  I wanted to scream, “it’s San-TAH Claus you fake cowpoke”, but the knife in my head wouldn’t allow it.  Then there’s the back-up band to Autry’s recording…have you heard it?  It sounds like a kindergarten composition only they’re playing instruments that don’t even exist anymore!!

So, no thanks Loren and Wally, I think I’ll tune out until January…unless of course you’re planning on playing Here Comes Peter Cottontail starting on New Years.

     I just finished painting our bedroom which has been a light blue color for the past 25 years.  I liked the light blue color in our bedroom.  I’ve liked it since the day I painted it.  But, last week my wife asked if I didn’t think it was time to change the color.  I said yes.  And so I was painting our bedroom.  Yellow.

     I think the divorce rate could be cut in half if men would just learn to say yes.  In 32 years of marriage, I can’t think of a single instance where “no” was the right answer.

     Last night I had gnocchi for dinner.  I don’t particularly like gnocci. I just love saying it.  “What do you want for dinner?”  “Well, how about some Knocccc-eeee! ” If you think about it there are not many foods that you get to say through your nose.  Knocccccc-eeee.  Unless, of course you’re in China where maybe you get to order, “Donnnnnk-eeee”.  The other neat thing is, gnocchi is the only food that starts with a silent G.  (Unless you count gianduja, which even the Swiss can’t pronounce.)

     See, the Italians have figured out that the enjoyment of a dish has as much to do with it’s pronunciation as to it’s taste.  It should be fun to say…rolling it around your tongue, the name should be as pleasing to the palate as it’s actual taste.

     As Americans we haven’t made this connection.  We’re in too much of a hurry.  Take pizza. We eat a lot of pizza, or as we say it…”peatza”.  Now listen to how the Italians say it….”peeeee-zah”.  Wouldn’t you much rather have a slice of…”peeee-zah.”  (We are improving in pace, however.  We now know it is “Cheee-lay” not “Chilly”.  Of course that only took us 200 years to learn.)

     Another dish I love is “linn-gweee-neeeee.” The Italians also know that a great dish should carry a sensual sounding name…a name that lingers in the air with promise perhaps of things to come.  For example, the next time your inamorata (or o as the case may be) asks what you want for dinner, look him or her in the eye and slowly say “tonight….tonight, I feel like some linn-gweee-neeee.”  Now listen to the Englishman’s answer, “how about  mutton!” 

     There is a reason why Viagra sales in England are ten times that of Italy.