Frou Frou Foxes in Midsummer Fires

So, in the interest of full disclosure of the continuation of embarrassing oddities of this week, it seems only fair to point out that I kind of think Howard K. Stern would be hot if he wasn’t so weird. I mentioned this to Lawyerish the other day, and I can’t help but notice that she kindly let it slip by with nary a word of disapproval, probably because she was so completely freaked out that there was nothing left to say.

But it’s true! It’s true! Look, we’ve established that I have a thing for Jewish guys, and seriously, if he wasn’t all wide-eyed and painfully faux-earnest during his relationship with the weirdest woman alive – I mean, ah, not so alive – he’d be kind of hot, I think, but it’s hard for me to tell, given the circumstances. Assuming he wasn’t batshit insane, that is. Which he is, clearly. On the other hand, I really do feel for the guy, which is probably contributing to the…whatever. God, this so embarrassing, but he loved her! He really loved her!

Ahem. Moving on. I learned that I’ve been mispronouncing yet another word, and worse, I used it in a professional setting. Frou frou. Right. Froo froo! It’s froo froo! I was saying “frow frow,” to clarify, assuming I’d ever said it out loud in my life before, which I’m not sure I have. And I actually said, in a setting that called for the word (and believe me, oh believe me, it did, and lo, it was miserable and very frou frou), “Well, that’s very frow frow, isn’t it?” to the response of confused silence until someone said, “Wait, do you mean froo froo?” and so on… 31 years, and I really and truly think that’s the first time I said that word out loud. At least I hope it was. And you know, Ani DiFranco mispronounces it multiple times on one album, which led me completely astray, I can tell you that. And clearly, I did not take French.

I have also decided that I have major issues with the word ‘post-coital’, which makes me think of goiters (I have a goiter. How gross is that? I AM GOITERED), and the word ‘embiggen’ never ceases to crack me up. In fact, it is only in recent weeks that I realized that it’s a real word, and not one made up by Tolkein for exclusive use by trolls and dwarves. “BEHOLD! Go forth and EMBIGGEN!”

Apropos of nothing, I was working at an event today that involved bagpipes. I always cry at bagpipes. I don’t know why, but from the first tentative, reedy opening to the final chord, I’m holding back tears and trying to maintain professionalism, and I totally fail every time. I just can’t help myself. And sometimes, like today, I end up letting out a loud sobby-type hiccup in the face of an elderly gentleman I later learned was my dad’s high school basketball coach. And of course, this only made me actually cry, which I attempted to cover with the old “My eye! Something’s in my eye!” trick, which doesn’t really explain the trembling lip, but we do what we can. But come ON: I met a random dude today who taught my dad basketball, and how cool is that? He talked about my dad like he was still a jaunty little high school student, and it took everything I had not to throw my arms around him and tuck him into my pocket.

Old people rock. They really do.

*Cocteau Twins. Damn you, Elizabeth Fraser! You never say anything right! How was I to know?

29 comments February 20th, 2007