Wednesday, April 12, 2017

New Miss Malaprop V

From time to time I post here on my amazing gf aka my 25 to life sentence, my girl-fuhrer, my ball and chainsaw and her favorite (which she has co-opted for me), my insignificant other. She has, among other talents, an amazing ability to mix metaphors, say things just about right - but not quite and other verbal propensities that just slay me. If you haven't read The New Miss Malaprop I, II, III or IV, they are worth it and frankly, probably better than this group. Still, below is a slice of my life. I usually say a few things first when I go do these posts: First, don't be offended for her. I understand it can be read as my being condescending to her, but it really doesn't feel like that when it is happening. Think of it more George and Gracie (she calls herself Gracie). Besides, even if I am, you have no idea of what I go through every day with my beloved - I'm a martyr, and she loves it when I tell these stories. Second, I swear I am not making them up. I write them down as closely as I can, as soon as I can. Third, most of them aren't technically Malapropisms. But who cares, if they are funny? Here we go:

One day - well, actually every day, she complains I don't help her. She's right. I can't help her because nothing I can do will be right and I don't feel like being mocked or scolded the entire time I am helping her, even if she has no idea what she's doing and I am actually right. It's too punishing. But, this day I decided to tease her about it, not even realizing myself the cunning of her mind when it comes to me:

P: I have no one to help me.
D: If I help you, you’ll say I did it wrong. If I don’t help it’s wrong too. So, I might as well do the one that’s easier.
P: I don’t say you always do it wrong. You need to learn.
D: Learn what?
P: To do things correctly.
D: And I do it the opposite of correctly?
P: Yes.
D: What’s the opposite of correctly?
P: Wrongly.
D: Yet somehow you don’t see my point. Amazing.

Once, forced to admit an error herself, she explained it more succinctly: "We were both right, but you’re wrong."

The following is another one of her famous idioms:

D: (Looking at a left over potato) I wish this was baked instead of mashed.
P: You know the old saying.
D: A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush?
P: No. Beggars can’t be choosy.
D: Actually . . . that’s not the saying.
P: Sure it is.

We do a NFL playoff contest every year in which you have to pick the games every week from the Wild Card round through the Super Bowl. Of course, every week, the teams who will play each other have changed depending on who won the week before.  She just doesn't understand sports very well. I walked in on her while she was looking at the email reminder I sent in which I asked everyone to remember to pick that week's games. 

D: Hello.
P: What are you talking about?
D: I shouldn't say hello?
P: No. With this email?
D: (I look over her shoulder) You have to pick this week's games.
P: We did that last week.
D: How is it possible someone can know as little about sports as you do? 
P: No, you asked me questions last week and I already gave you my picks.
D: Okay (holding my head), these are new games. You couldn't pick them until this week because you couldn't know who would be in them until last week's games were over.
P: Well, how do I know who is playing?
D: I sent you an email a few days ago with the games.
P: Oh, I just delete those.
D: I'll send it again. We done here? 
P: It's ridiculous.
D: I don't care.
P: It's ridiculous to have to do it again.
D: Still don't care. Bye.

The amazing thing is, she won the contest that year, which tells you how much skill is involved. Another day we are watching an NFL playoff game. She is only interested because she wants to win the contest again. She has learned that Aaron Rodgers is the Packers' quarterback and he's really good. But, at one point this conversation happened:

P: So, why aren’t they playing Rodgers?
D: Umm, because the other team has the ball.
P: So, when are they going to put him back in?
D: When his team has the ball.

I suppose if you don't watch football you don't get that one. 

Still, another day we are watching Veronica Mars. It's a show I like a lot and have told her the name of it at least twice before this when we were watching it. I can never watch anything without having to constantly explain things to her, so sometimes I am a little petulant about it and just hit pause and dramatically put down the remote to look at her:

P: What's the name of this show?
D: Same as her name.
P: Which is?
D: Okay. (I hit pause and put down the remote). Her first name is the same as one of your sisters' middle names, remember?
P: Marie? Ann? Oh, Veronica.
D: Right. Last name is one of the planets.
P: Veronica Moon?
D: Really? Patty, what are planets?
P: Stars?
D: Yes, exactly, the stars are planets. Same thing.
P: (knowing my sarcastic voice). Wait, Veronica Mars.
D: So you knew it?
P: I guess.

Yet another day and I’m listening to Bach’s Cantata no. 8 when she walks downstairs past me on one of her endless self-imposed chores.
P: You really should have been born in a different century.
D: Okay, I'll bite, why?
P: Because of the type of music you like.
D: Patty, it's Bach. Lots of people still like him. I promise you they don't record it just for me.
P: Bach?
D: Yeah, he was the composer something like 300 years ago.
P: Really. That's strange, because it sounds like a woman is singing.
D: It is a woman singing. He was the composer. How could they record him 300 years ago?
P: Okay, but that's still a woman.
D: Oh boy.

Another day and I am commenting on her strangely acute hearing. She nods and proudly says  
"I have x-ray hearing." I don't bother to challenge it. I like it.

We have plans to go to the movies one day. I usually pick the movies. I am telling her what we are going to see - a remake of a western classic.

D: So we are going to see The Magnificent 7 tomorrow.
P: Oh, okay. I saw the one they made in 2015 yesterday.
D: You did?
P: Yeah, I think it was called The Fantastic 4.

Again, please understand, she's not kidding. She doesn't do puns. And I have to admit, there is that strange logic to it - a superlative followed by a number in both cases. If it was on purpose, I'd have to say she was really clever. 

Sometimes, it is not what she says is mixed up; it's just scary. For example, she kind of likes to kill.

P: Do you know when I was coming in the garage before I saw two crickets waiting to get in?
D: Uh, okay.
P: So, I killed both of them.
D: You're mean.
P: Gonna kill them all.
D: Didn't you ever see Pinocchio? (Of course, I meant something like - Wasn't Jiminy Cricket cute?)
P: Yes. Going to kill him too.

That will do it. Check out 4/26/07, 6/1/12, 11/29/13 and 10/13/15 for previous adventures with the New Miss Malaprop.

2 comments:

  1. These always make me laugh.
    Don

    ReplyDelete
  2. Fabulous.You should compose these as a book. The Tao of Patty.

    ReplyDelete

Your comments are welcome.

About Me

My photo
I started this blog in September, 2006. Mostly, it is where I can talk about things that interest me, which I otherwise don't get to do all that much, about some remarkable people who should not be forgotten, philosophy and theories (like Don Foster's on who wrote A Visit From St. Nicholas and my own on whether Santa is mostly derived from a Norse god) and analysis of issues that concern me. Often it is about books. I try to quote accurately and to say when I am paraphrasing (more and more). Sometimes I blow the first name of even very famous people, often entertainers. I'm much better at history, but once in a while I see I have written something I later learned was not true. Sometimes I fix them, sometimes not. My worst mistake was writing that Beethoven went blind, when he actually went deaf. Feel free to point out an error. I either leave in the mistake, or, if I clean it up, the comment pointing it out. From time to time I do clean up grammar in old posts as, over time I have become more conventional in my grammar, and I very often write these when I am falling asleep and just make dumb mistakes. It be nice to have an editor, but . . . .