It’s Friday night. I know it’s redundant to say that I love Friday nights, because I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned my undying devotion to Friday nights before, but goddamn, I love Friday nights.
We will have our Friday night phone call with our mountain friends in just a few minutes. I wanted to hang out with you guys for a bit first. Randy bought bourbon, so I’ll try to not slur my typing.
Anyway, I sat out on my deck a little while ago to try and get my Friday night groove on. My Friday night buzz was slightly harshed because we have an 18 year old who sometimes doesn’t plan well and then gets crabby. I got to experience the crabbiness up close and personal as soon as I walked in the door from work today.
Like I said, Randy got some bourbon today, and I sat outside alone with my thoughts and some Evan Williams. A particularly long and bizarre train of thought led me to consider what we were going to eat for dinner. Which led me to another thought. A recurring thought.
I’m going to switch gears a little here, but just hang on, I promise we will circle back. .
You know how a passing moment in your life can become a part of your every day person? Like you hear a phrase, perhaps just in passing, but for whatever reason, it sticks in your head and becomes a part of you?
In 1981, the year I graduated from high school, Randy spent the spring quarter of his junior year at Ball State in Europe. He mostly stayed in London, but they took a lot of trips. Up until then, the only beach Randy had ever seen was the beach at Lake Mississinewa in north central Indiana. He ended up on a beach in Nice, where tops were optional, and a man walked up and down the beach, peddling beer by calling out “Birra, hooey!”.
To this day, 35 years later, when Randy gets a beer out of the fridge, there is a good chance he is going to call out “Birra, hooey!”
It occurred to me, as I thought about dinner, I have my own version of “birra, hooey”. Mine is newer, just a baby really. Around 4 years ago, Randy and I were at a campground in Greeneville, Tennessee. This trip was the first time I met Mountain Girl and heard the Madison’s perform live.
I met the most unusual group of people in this dinky campground at the base of a mountain in the Smokeys. I met a guy who claimed to have worked for John Gotti. I met a guy who was an extra in the movie “The Outsiders”. I met this old British dude who lived with his nephew in a tiny camper and were full time campground residents. There were actually quite a few full time residents. So, this guy, after I was introduced, cast his eyes to the snack counter menu that was written on a chalk board. He said “I came down to see what is on the bill of fare.”
To my ears, hearing “bill of fare” spoken in a English accent in a campground in Tennessee went together like shrimp and ice cream.
Unlike Randy, I don’t speak my phrase out loud. In fact, I never even mentioned it to him until a few minutes ago.
Whenever I think about making dinner, going out for dinner, or eating dinner, the phrase “I’ve come to see what is on the bill of fare” is going to flit through my head.
Also, in case you’re wondering if I will just blog any fucking thing that is on my mind, the answer is obviously “yes”.
I hope you all have a wonderful weekend, or at the very least, one that doesn’t suck.
Here are a few memes I had on Rubber Shoes In Hell’s Facebook page last week.
And I have no doubt that every time that thought passes through your head your mind’s eye sees that chalk board “bill of fare”, and probably even the Limey bloke that spoke it. And he wasn’t wearing any fucking pants. Well, actually that’s not true, or you would have mentioned it. But now that I’ve planted that in your head it is highly likely to become part of your future mental slide show of the events. Hmmm… does the very fact that I’m trying to fuck with the memory of your story make me a manipulative bitch? Or just extremely bored and sleep deprived while on a road trip with my family? One where my husband is charge of the music, and every time I request something different it just gets worse. God help me, this is going to be a long trip.
Hahahaah….I feel your pain. I do. And I do see the dude, but he wears pants. Or at least he USED TO. GAH!
Did you know that in the UK, “pants” means men’s underwear? Does that change the equation a smidge? 🙂
Things I learned from Doctor Who…..
That does change things a bit. ew.
Well, yes. Traditionally in UK English, “pants” means underwear. But in modern UK usage, “pants” means worthless, bad, lousy. Shitty, even (that might be the connection!) As for the old Brit in the campsite, he was taking the piss. I’m a “mature” Brit in Texas, and I ain’t done heard “bill of fare” used other that facetiously in my lifetime. Not in the UK, the US, or even TX.
So perhaps he wasn’t being fancy, he was being sarcastic? I dunno, unless he slipped in and out of sarcasm mode completely seamlessly, it didn’t seem like it. Perhaps. I mean, I was drinking moonshine at the time.
Oh, ho is this going to be fun! Thank you for giving me an awesome “I am so gonna fuck with people from now on” tool. When we go out to eat and look at the menu, I am going to refer to it as the “bill of fare”, and when my kids are cruising the weekly grocery ads I am gonna ask them if they found anything interesting on that (loosely related) “bill of fare”. Tee hee heee! The horns they are a showing, lalalalallaalala! (Yes, it’s barely after 7am and I am just starting to enjoy my first cup of coffee). 🙂
Oh, I am so happy to pass this along to you!
About ten years back, I spent a week in Fiji at a resort, where there was a few Aussie families. The parents would share a sitter every evening and party it up hard. They were hanging over the tables one morning at breakfast when a bright, chipper little girl with beautiful dark curly hair asked “are we late for brekkie?”. Ever since, when I feed our dogs and cats in the morning, I tell them to eat their brekkie.
I am still struggling through the envy over your Fiji trip..
Not being a drinker, when you said Evan Williams, I was like “the guy who made Blogger and Twitter? I know you program computers, but he just doesn’t seem like much of a Friday night on the deck sort of a guy”
Then I figured it out.
Bill of fare sounds like trying to pay for a cab with duck parts.
My name used to be written on the nightly bill of fare (though we didn’t know to call it that) in chalk when I cooked for a living. My manager used to write “Dangerous Doug’s Fettuccine Prima Vera” on the specials board, then I had to think one up and cook it to order.
I kind of want some Dangerous Doug’s Fettuccine Prima Vera now.
It’s really easy to make. I don’t do it much anymore because we have an electric stove and I don’t tend to cook with wine these days.
I just don’t cook much at all these days. I did make strawberry shortcake today
Sometimes expressions from books come to mind too. What was on the Bill Of Fare?
Something like hotdogs, hamburgers and doritos.
Yes!!! The recurring snippets of passing talkers.
OR
The revolving door of my voices….
Mine is: ‘You are replaceable.’ Spoken by my band teacher in High school over the fact that we ALL had to turn in practice timecards and if you got too big for your Marching britches there were plenty of ‘playahs’ ready to take your spot.
I have applied it to various jobs with sincerity and various people with vehemence.
But, sometimes when I’m out feeding my horses and it’s brutal cold or hot, I remember the slaves and the American Indians and some of the stuff they endured and I can do ANYTHING for 30 minutes.
AND! Always thank the monkeys. Dentist, doctor, prescription meds… ALL monkey tested and approved.
Thanks Monkeys.
See Michelle? Your voices are just fine.
I, for one, am glad you’ll blog about whatever pops in your head!
I think I like the outhouse bear meme best this week. I just LOVE that fucking bear.
Randy picks all the design for the memes. I just provide the words, so it really is a shared project. I have only vetoed a few of his picture choices. And thank you. 🙂
At least the two of you know where you picked those lines up from.
I start saying something and I have no idea where I picked it up. It’s ridiculous. But I’ll keep saying it as though I had been born saying it.
I like your random posts.
I will have to think about this. Do I have anything little phrases running through my head where I don’t know the origin? Hmmm…
And thank you. 🙂
A lady after my heart – one who loves Friday night !!! What a pity it passes so quickly – even when I stay up until 2am on Saturday morning – LOL
I’m thinking that when I check a menu now I’m going to be thinking ‘bill of fare’ !!
Thanks for sharing your stories with us xox
You’re welcome. XOXOXO
love your random posts. Living in Singapore we get travelers from all over the world and snippets of conversations and interesting words are a plenty…. but I cant remember any
Oh, I would love that so much. The people watching has to be amazing.
Haha…I can just hear Randy at the fridge. That is the kind of thing that’d stick in your mind. I think the dude was selling “biere” (sounds a bit like bee-airrr…those R’s really get attention). Your old Brit was definitely being facetious, lol. (My grandmother was a Brit and my oh my, that sharp tongue.) I’m going to steal that if you don’t mind and use it all week while i camp with my friend, who also hates cooking. I think we’ve got pb&j’s, pancakes, pretzels, hotdogs, and other crap on our “bill of fare”… yup, I’m gonna be insufferable. Thank you! Hope your weekend contained zero bourbon hangovers.
Hahaha…my weekend was entirely hangover free. And steal away! I want to hear about it when you’re back from camping!
You could blog the phone book and it would be hilarious.
And meaningful.
At the same time.
Meanwhile, I am going to see what bit of fare I can find for breakfast.
Hahah! Good luck with your breakfast fare! And thank you!