In just 5 days my friends from my home town will be arriving here in San Francisco. They come out to visit me every year in one combination or another, but this is the largest group that's ever come at once...and, to be honest, I'm a little scared. You see, we're not the kind of friends who get together for dinner to catch up and compliment one another's new hair styles. Oh no--this crew is from Jersey which means we communicate our love for one another via sarcastic comments and personal insults. It always takes me an hour or two to slip back into my native tounge and I'm praying my Jersey vernacular is currently intact.
For example, a friend from home recently commented to me, "That piece of metal is ruining your face" which translates here in California to "I care about you and want you to know that I prefer the way you look without your eyebrow piercing." Another example came in the form of a group email this week where one friend wrote to another, "Dude, quit your whining, stop being such a cheap bastard and pony up." What we all knew he meant was, "I'd really like to spend some time with you when we're out in San Fran. I know this trip is a little pricey but I hope you'll join us up in Napa."
Anyway, for the next five days, I'll be working hard to reconnect with my inner Jersey girl-- sharpening my sarcasm, removing all traces of incense from my apartment, telling my local hippie/hipster friends that I'll be "out of town" for the weekend (too much work to translate for everyone), suggesting songs for the heavy metal mix one of my visitors is making for our limo excursion, and, most importantly, preparing to get my bar fight on.
For example, a friend from home recently commented to me, "That piece of metal is ruining your face" which translates here in California to "I care about you and want you to know that I prefer the way you look without your eyebrow piercing." Another example came in the form of a group email this week where one friend wrote to another, "Dude, quit your whining, stop being such a cheap bastard and pony up." What we all knew he meant was, "I'd really like to spend some time with you when we're out in San Fran. I know this trip is a little pricey but I hope you'll join us up in Napa."
Anyway, for the next five days, I'll be working hard to reconnect with my inner Jersey girl-- sharpening my sarcasm, removing all traces of incense from my apartment, telling my local hippie/hipster friends that I'll be "out of town" for the weekend (too much work to translate for everyone), suggesting songs for the heavy metal mix one of my visitors is making for our limo excursion, and, most importantly, preparing to get my bar fight on.
3 comments:
I'm making a mix cd of my favorite death metal songs.
I think that driving through wine country with Seputura's "Rivers of Blood" playing at full volume
will be nice.
Part of me wanted to ask, "are we really that bad?,"
but I answered that question for myself with a def
"yes."
I'm 50% excited and 50% frightened for this weekend
which sounds about right.
Avoid the Turnpike Merlot.
-Meryl Streep
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