Friday, March 21, 2008

The unexpected

That's what you get around here, people.

Sure, I could complain about the weather, but how much imagination does that take? Nobody want to put on their mukluks to attend Good Friday services, which, in case you're blackbird and don't know, take place two days before Easter. It's the typical Chicago situation: the stores are full of pastel clothes and marked down candy, the florist department of the local supermarket is overflowing with potted lilies and daffodils, and everyone's walking around in down-filled waterproof foul weather gear. Because it's snowing.

So there's that. Or I could complain about the number of hours I'm spending in church these days. Because it's reaching the point where they're going to start charging me rent.

Instead, I'll quote a conversation that took place yesterday between yours truly, the English major who wrote her Master's thesis on Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, and my 11-year old daughter.

Poppette: Does Shakespeare ever use swears?
Poppy: Well ... not really. Some of his characters use what we might call vulgar language. Like when somebody calls Falstaff a bag of guts. Or somebody might call a woman a strumpet.
Poppette: What's a strumpet?
Poppy: A strumpet is a woman who ... um ... isn't very picky about whom she smooches. Basically, she'll smooch anyone who asks. Shakespeare's characters will call someone "a vile strumpet." But he doesn't use the "f" word or the "s" word.
Poppette: So does Shakespeare use the "h" word?
Poppy: I can't remember if anyone says "hell." But I could easily imagine it.
Poppette: Not that "h" word. The other one.
Poppy: Which one is that?
Poppette: Whore.


  1. I heard Al Sharpton defending Jeremiah Wright and he began slamming Dom Imus by saying that Don Imus called the Rutgers girls "nappy headed H's." He meant whores. I just had to shake my head.

    I thought about you last night as I sat in St. Phil's drafty cathedral, freezing my rear end off. The choir was beautiful. Happy Easter.

  2. teachergirl,

    Well, I think Don Imus had said "nappy-headed ho's." So in this case Al Sharpton actually makes sense.

    Only in this case, though. That Tawanda Bradley thing has long legs.

    My choir was gorgeous last night and even more gorgeous today. Happy Easter to you!

  3. Note to self: Do not drink cocktails while reading this blog. 'Cause I just snorted my drink out my nose whilst laughing.

  4. I know when the freakin Good Friday services are.
    I just can't follow that whole damn Lent thing.

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  6. Hmm. This may affect the dowry.


  7. My daughter's Language Arts class read Romeo & Juliet in 6th grade. I re-read it too and was astounded to discover parts I swear weren't in the clearly edited edition I read in high school. Now I understand why people get so into Shakespeare.

    Tee hee on the "h" word conversation!

  8. Me thinks the Poppette doth know more than her mother suspects...

  9. We have an additional 10 inches of the white crappe here in Ann Arbor. Have I mentioned how much I hate snow?

    I keep telling myself it's just because Easter is really really early this year.

  10. Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!

    'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase; you vile standing-tuck!

    I think Poppette should call her most hated male classmate a bull's pizzle or a filthy bung. I wish I had, when I was her age. Then again, JP might have beaten me to a pulp. Sblood!


Gentle Readers:

For the time being, I've turned off comment moderation. Please don't spam; it's not nice.

xxx, Poppy.