I never understood the phrase, “Not my bag.” Oh, I know what it means, roughly, but what’s the origin of such a thing? How did field of interest become bag, somewhere along the line? It’s always been baffling to me.
I also get confused by the phrase “Top o’ the morning to ya!” But, at least that one’s friendly. Weird, but friendly.
And people up here in the Tray of Pizza Belt often replace the word “still” with “yet,” and put it at the end of sentences. So, instead of “We still have an hour to go,” they’ll say, “We have an hour yet.” WTF?
They’re also fond of using “and that” whenever they get tired of describing something. So, it’ll be “We had turkey and mashed potatoes and that.”
Whatever. It’s all mildly strange, but entertaining. What are some other turns of phrase that are confusing, when you stop to think about ’em?
Our lawnmower started working again, for no known reason. On the day I last bitched about it here, I went out to the garage, yanked the rope, and the thing fired up like a champion. I mowed the yard, weed-whacked, raked, and swept. It was a thing of beauty out there, and it felt like I’d dodged an expensive and irritating bullet.
But later the same day… the dishwasher died.
Our dishwasher is fairly new, we had it installed since we’ve lived here, and it’s never given us any trouble. But now it’s nothing but a prop, like those cardboard TVs in furniture stores. I checked the breaker box, but it’s rarely that easy of a fix. Right?
I have no idea… We’re washing dishes by hand now, and I’m hoping the thing fixes itself like the lawnmower. That’s my current plan of attack: hoping it mends itself while we sleep.
Sheesh. If it’s not one thing… it’s all fucked up.
Last night at work I needed to talk with someone whose desk is off to itself, and while I was making the approach I entered the world’s largest fart cloud. Apparently the guy was just sitting over there engaging his blowhole, and completely filling a 1500 square foot space with his ass-gas.
It’s disgusting. I hate walking into clouds of intestinal stench. Eddie Murphy used to say, in his stand-up show, that we all want to smell each others farts. And I can honestly tell you… that ain’t true. At least not with me. It makes me gag, and I always feel like microscopic poop particles have just been sucked into my lungs.
The amazing thing about last night’s cloud was that it was so powerful, way out on the edge. I was a good thirty feet from this dude, and the stink seemed to be completely undiluted.
Blecch. The guy looks like a frequent farter, so I’m not surprised. But it seemed like I could still smell it, an hour later. I think it attached to the tiny hairs inside my nose. And I was only inside the cloud for roughly one second — I’d quickly retreated and asked my question via email.
Do you have any stories to tell on this subject? Target seems to be an unusually farty place; I’m routinely stepping inside an invisible shit mist at that store. Home Depot too. If you have any tales to tell about people dropping silent fart bombs in public places, we’ll need to hear ’em. Use the comments link below.
And finally, did your parents name you after anyone? Or anything, I suppose? Mine didn’t, and our kids’ names don’t have any special meaning, either. Well, the older boy’s middle name is John, after my dad, but that’s not the name he uses.
What about you? Does your given name have an interesting origin? Please tell us about it.
And I’m gonna call it a day, my friends. I’ve got some dishes to wash… I hope everyone has a great weekend.
I’ll see ya next time!
Now playing in the bunker
Read Crossroads Road on your Kindle!
Good Afternoon Surf Reporters…
First, but no comments on these subjects
…it’s been a while since I got to do that. Sorry, man.
I’ve had a few times when people stopped by my office right after I’ve unleashed a fart. If it’s someone that I know pretty well, I’ll tell them that they should probably just stand outside the door for a minute. If it’s someone I don’t know well enough, I’ll say nothing and feel bad for them.
And we’ve got a guy here that just doesn’t understand fart etiquette. One time we had just parked in the office parking deck. We walked over to the elevator to go down to the ground floor… got on the elevator… and right before we got to the ground floor, everyone got hit in the face by the most atrocious fart. Not only that, but we were on the elevator with a couple of complete strangers!
So after we got out, we were asking each other… and he said, “Sorry, I couldn’t hold it.” He couldn’t hold a fucking fart for 15 seconds???
I don’t like that guy.
I was named after Roger Maris.
I was named after a man who became a cop. Ironic.
I just wanted to say Good Bye to everybody! End of the world is this Saturday, so you slow readers out there may want to buckle down to get to the end of Crossroads Road before your final judgement. There just may be a quiz!
A word to the wise (shouldn’t that be “a word from the wise”, or “a word to those that could use a little help in the thinking department”??): Don’t buy any green bananas today or tomorrow.
Chuck in Belpre says
You know that sooner or later one of these crackpots is gonna be right. Wish I hadn’t thought of that.
Pretty much by definition, NONE of these ‘crackpots’ will ever be right.
Spend 5 minutes listening to their spiel; 10 tops. Once you’ve found the hole in their argument, you can go back to what you were doing.
I have a buddy who says “that if nothings wrong somethings wrong”. It sounds like this applies to the Kay compound so feel free to use it.
At work, when one of us says “it’s quiet here today”, someone else will always say “yeah, too quiet.” Sure enough, all hell will break loose.
I was named after the late great actor Jason Robards. Before I was adopted my first name was “Marion”. My dad’s name is Marion, my grandfather’s name is Marion, my grandmother’s name was Marion – everyone was Marion. So our first daughter’s name is Marion.
Then we had the second daughter, Madelyn. I named her with an “M” because I wanted to have M&M’s. Weird, I know. And of course the little boy is Jason.
Here’s some sayings that I’ve never really figured out. I could use some help on them:
For pea sakes alive (or maybe Pete’s sake alive).
Have to piss like a Russian (or rushing) race horse.
I know a guy that likes to end almost every sentence by saying, “and so on and so forth”.
I could swear my Great-Uncle, who hat sum sayings, would say, “Revved up like a douchemark ‘notha rover in my sights.”
And then he’d say, ” And thinggs ov dat naatuh…”
He’s in prison, and Austrian, but fuck me gently with a chainsaw, he’s guided every relationship I’ve had with a woman. Or a child. Hope that tain’t weird.
For pees aches alive.
jennifer jason leigh says
jason- we should talk
go field hockey!
Jeez. I just made a post and it fucking disappeared.
Root 66 says
What size of Blizzaks does your dishwasher take? I think that might be your problem…no traction!
Bill in WV says
My middle name was named after a tank from World War I. Actually, it was my grandfather’s middle name as well.
If there is an irritating person in the aisle at a grocery store, or I just don’t like the look of them, I’ll funk it up ’til it’s impassible. Usually near the meat dept. Yeah, that’ll be good for business.
T. Farty McAppleass says
WTF? I can’t post as Jason.
Awesome update. Had to re-read. I was laughing to hard. Thanks, I needed that! Real. Shitty. Week.
My late husband used to pull that fart cloud trick on me……While at the grocery store, he would hide behind some display in the isle while I was trapped in front of it with the cart. Just before some unsuspecting shopper would pass me….PFFFFFFFFFTTT. Then he would walk away leaving a cloud of funk right where I would be standing….making me look like the guilty party. Fucker. People would walk by with their faces all contorted up, looking at me like I’m the most disgusting person ever. Of course, I have tears running down my face from laughing like an idiot.
“And that” = “n’at” in the PIttsburgh area. Here ya go:
That’s farking hilarious, thanks for the laugh.
Sorry I looked at the bunker cam…feeling a bit queasy at the moment.
What absolutely blows my mind in this corporate office I work, is how when someone is dropping a deuce, they do NOT HAVE the decency to flip the handle for that complimentary pre-flush. Ya kno w…get the shit rolling. My gawd, it’s like they’re using their own water! It’s worse than any fart. Nasty asses!
Middle name, Antoinette named after my great grandmother from the hills of Georgia, who died in 1902.
Try not making that ‘courtesy flush’ in jail. You’ll be tugging on that handle before your even drop trou the next time.
Alice in WV says
agreed on the bunker cam. that guy is messed UP.
Being in the south there’s a lot of “such” Quilts and such, potatoes and such, etc. No one knows what such is and yet it’s so many things… and such. Is it a food or something related to quilts?
Evil Twin's Wife says
Before the Evil Twin and I were married, we attended some sort of nerdy fan convention in Baltimore. We had to enter the dealer’s room through double doors, and apparently, some nerdlet had just shit his pants moments before. We still talk about “The Wall of Fart”.
I know whoever dropped that bomb still lives in his mom’s basement and she buys all his clothes (most likely Garanimals).
My name is a combination of my Dad’s mothers name and my Mom’s mothers name. I don’t have a middle name, but I was :this close: to being named Carmen Louise, so I consider myself lucky.
Your Dad’s Mother’s name was Evil? 🙂
“invisible shit mist” Thanks, Jeff. Another new, potential name for my band.
I’m from the South. As a child, I was taught that farting or “passing gas” was impolite in a social setting and that one should excuse oneself to the nearest restroom for such things. Apparently, in the North, farting is a competitive sport, best enjoyed in public. At least that’s how it seems around my friends from Michigan.
My parents actually entertained the idea of naming me a combination of their mothers’ names….. Dorothy and Florence. You ready? Dorance. Dory for short. UGH. I was a target in school for my buck teef and huge bewbs…so Dorance would have sent me over the edge.
Phantom Railfan says
My somewhat unusual middle name is actually my mother’s surname. Unfortunately, in the intervening years, the name has become a fairly common girl’s name, and I find myself constantly explaining now why I have a “girl’s name” for my middle name. Pain in the ass…
I was named after the Mona Lisa, but “modernized” into Monica Lisa…guess I should thank the parents for the “modernization.”
My personal pet peeve as far as local dialect is concerned is when folks use “whenever” in lieu of a simple “when,” as in “whenever the plumber gets here, we can flush the john again.” Or “I can’t remember whenever I paid the light bill.”
*Both sentences must be said in red-neck cadence for full effect.*
When I dutchoven my girlfriend: funny. When she dutchovens me: antisemitic.
I worked for a moving company one summer in highschool. I used to love farting inside the moving truck. I felt like the truck and everyone’s belongings were covered in a thin layer of my pooparticles….
My farts used to be legendary. Because… yaknow… fatkid over here…
The term “the pits” meaning something sucks or is the worst (“You got Mrs. Biseptor for math?” “Yeah, man, it’s the pits”) is actually a term derived from junkies whose veins were so fucked up they had to resort to shooting up under their armpits. Hence the term “the pits”.
T. Farty McAppleass says
That’s interesting. I’ve heard lots of rumors of people shooting dope into their dicks. But I never heard the phrase, “that’s the dick” or “that’s the cock”.
Maybe “frequent farters” should have cards issued. Mine would be platinum.
I have a Hazardous Fumes hazmat sign hanging off the back of my chair at work. =-)
When I worked at a larger place with a few more techs around it was fart competition. My fart fuel was peanuts, the guys who needed to exact revenge on the guy sitting near me would buy me peanuts, since I like peanuts, I obliged and well, gave them something to uhm, avoid. Of course, the plan did backfire sometimes when the bossman would send the peanut giver and I out on a service call. Hehehe….
I was named after two of my dad’s friends Jack and Dan. Not the beverage. I fly frequently and always get the amused looks when the TSA ID guy sees “Jack Daniel”. On the subject of farts, I recently stepped into a fart filled elevator just as another guy waked out. Not only did I have to endure his stench on the way to my floor, but probably took the blame when the person getting on smelled it. I wanted to shout that it wasn’t mine, but she wouldn’t have believed it anyway.
i am named after my father’s, cousin’s wife. I have always said my mom must have been sure she was having a boy when she agreed to name me Laina.
I had severe stomach problems several years ago and was at a concert with my ex-husband. We were talking to a friend of his at this really crowded club when the sensation hit. I figured, it is so crowded no one will notice.
The next day he calls me laughing, the guy we were talking to emailed him to say how happy he had been for it to be a no smoking show, but the guy next to him just ate something horrible. I started to cry, and had to admit it was me.
Then i finally had my gallbladder removed!
I love to fart in home depot! The louder the better. Their poop stall graffiti is usually quite good as well. I never fart in Lowe’s. It would be uncivilized. BTW, the returns line at Target is a designated farting zone. Something about preparing for battle stirs the bowels.
When I was a youngling I pooped in a display toilet at the local home depot.
People who know my adult antics don’t realize how much i’ve actually matured…
Shiny Rod says
Yeah, but this is the last time I bail your fat ass out of jail for taking a crap off the bow of the Staten Island Ferry! If it weren’t for Scruffy dog, I’d leave you dressed in a French maid’s costume in Rikers Island in the cell with DSK! LOL
A friend of mine can fart at will….and takes great pleasure in being able to do so. Once a year we have a “boys weekend” away to go watch car racing interstate…His wife’s parting words are “don’t forget your butt plug!” He farts in the car on the way to the airport, he farts in the terminal, he farts on the plane, in fact where ever there’s an audience he will fart. He considers farting performance art, as does his whole family, he allegedly has a family compilation CD of farts.
Oh yeah I also got my signed book last night, just in time for the weekend!!
This update (and the comments so far) are just plain cruel…I’m sitting here in a mall common area passing time before my dinner appt. And reading this on my phone suppressing my giggles like a kid. (I’m a gray-bearded 46!)
I wish I had said it first but……
I don’t care WHO you are…. farts is funny
I farted on a guy in GoMart one time. I didn’t realize he was standing behind me and I let one rip. I started laughing hysterically when I realized he was behind me. The harder I laughed, the more upset he looked, (which made me laugh even harder).
I kept thinking about how he probably went to work and told everyone how some woman farted on him in GoMart.
I was named for those stupid Tammy movies that were popular in the 60s. The only favor my mother did for me was to change the spelling, adding an “ie” to the end of it instead of the “y”.
Tammie….I thought you were gonna say “The harder I laughed the MORE I FARTED!!”. I probably would have peed myself.
On public fart-clouds. When I was in basic training we would have several formations a day for instructions on daily “events”, to get yelled at, etc. I would consistently and silently unleash a deadly cloud . No one could ever figure out who the culprit was. These clouds were so bad, they became legendary. I mean, WTH do you expect with the food that was fed to us? So, in the very last formation, after 4 months of hell, before the drill sergeants showed up, I confessed. “Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that the shit-cloud king was me.” So most of the guys started laughing (they were all 18-21 year olds, I was 39), just about the time the drills showed up. Everyone got dropped but me. And then I unleashed another one… heh heh
Sidney, what are the odds you did your training at Ft. Lost-in-the-Woods MO??!
Don’t know about Sidney, but I was there during the summer of ’73. What a shithole. Humid, buggy, mucky shithole. Just thinking about it now makes me want to fart.
Nope. Fort Knox. KY. 19D Cav Scout all the way…
I had a guy in my BCT who was 30 something that would crop dust the shit out of our barracks, formation, chow hall and anywhere else! 31E here, MP’s lead the way!!
Great update – you’re in top form, Jeff! And to sweeten the pot, my Jeff Kay autograph (with book) showed up in yesterday’s mail.
“I could care less”, meaning the opposite. “Might could”. Yonder. Actually yonder is a perfectly good word, it’s just not used much.
I believe the following are Texas-isms:
“kitty corner” meaning “diagonally across the intersection”
“catty wampus” meaning “all screwed up”
Free bonus peeve: Adults who use babytalk to other adults: “I have yummy veggies in my tummy”. Please.
I’m pretty sure I was named after my mom’s father; at least, we have the same first name. She threw her Dad a bone by naming her firstborn after him, and then didn’t call me by that name. Passive-aggressive?
Chill, here in WV, we do kitty corner and catty wampus too. Not a lot of catty wampus, but a lot of kitty corner. I’ve heard and used “kitty cornered” (same meaning) since I was a kid.
I’d only ever heard those things from my mom, and she is from a Texas family, so I thought they were Texas things. Later in life I heard them from other people, but only from Texans. I guess it’s like Pittburghese – the speech patterns are used in the Burgh, but also other places.
Thanks for the info; English is an endlessly interesting language. I’ve heard it said that English is one of the best languages for swearing, and one of the hardest to learn.
Not just “yonder”, but “over yonder”, as if yonder wasn’t all the way over yonder to start with.
That, but also yonder as an adjective: “gotta pull yonder car out of the ditch”.
I am usually the culprit, whether I wish to be or not. I have very poor control for reasons that I do not understand.
My best/worst was the time I stunk up at entire basketball court in a college gym/arena (where Dick Vitale used to coach). My theory is that I spread a molecule thin layer around the gym at about nose level.
As for names, I was named after my Grandfather Jorge and my father, Luis. My brother was named after the other grandfather, Juan. My father and his brother were named after family, as were most of my cousins. If’s just how we do things.
My daughters’ middle name was my mothers.
My wife was named after someone dogs. Her mom liked the name and the rest is history. Her sisters daughter was named after my wifes’ cat.
They’re a bunch of weirdos over there.
We’re currently trying to name a boy whose arrival is immiment. We’re not using a family name this time, and she won’t let me use Woodrow Augustus, Han Solo, or Ronald Wison Reagan. Any suggestions would be helpful and seriously considered. Seriously, we’re down to the wire here.
Go with a “J” name. All the boys in my family are “J” names:
Jason, Jerod, Jeff, Justin, Jackson, Julian, Jordan, Jack, Joey, Jesus.
Just kidding about the “Jesus” but that isn’t a bad name. Also, it would be cool to have a boy named “Santa”, nobody ever thinks of that.
Jorge – Rufus Balthazar is a great name for a young feller ,and would have been my twin boys’ names if I’d ever had twin boys. Feel free to use both names on your soon-to-be-hatchling.
Weird story – my younger bother never ONCE passed wind in front of his GF-then-wife-now-ex-wife. Could be that’s why they’re not married anymore?
Also, I’m not named after anyone. Mom and Dad, when thinking of a girl’s name, picked up a map of Ireland, pointed to a spot, and said ‘that’ll do.’ Yeah, they both though I was a boy, so a girl’s name was far down the list of things they were thinking about. Have to be grateful for the name through…if Dad had gotten his name I’d be Rita. Yeah – – -a 5’10” blue-eyed blonde (now redhead-adjacent) chick just screams Rita, right?
I once had a boss whose intestinal distress would nearly make my face melt. My cubicle was conveniently stationed between his door and the bathrooms. I received the best of BOTH worlds during my time there.
I was named after a little girl that my mom loved – and my Gram Irish. I turned out more like my Gram Irish (who was a spitfire) than the little girl…
We named our daughter after a character in one of my favorite movies and one of my best friends growing up. We yelled names out our back door until we came up with a combination that worked for us.
One of my current bosses ends EVERY FRIGGING SENTENCE with “on there”. I have no idea what it means, but it makes me a little crazy. I’m fairly certain that he has Tourrette’s.
I’m named after a street. Not that the street had any sentimental value to my parents or anything, they just liked the name. I’m thrilled, because I almost got named after a month. Not my birth month, but, if my calculations are correct, the month I was conceived. Ew.
As for particles of poo in your nose, I know the feeling. When I was in nursing school and doing clinicals on a medical unit, I would shower as soon as I got home and soap up the insides of my nostrils. It was the only way to get the smell of infection/old people poo/off brand Lysol out of my nose. It was probably all in my head, but without the soaping I would smell that smell all night.
Weirdest colloquialism? “How’s your mama and ’em?” A general greeting inquiring about the general welfare of one’s family used around these here parts.
Wow, a street. I wouldn’t like to be named “Arlington Boulevard” or “10th Street”.
Much more mainstream name than that! Think along the lines of Anne St. or Joan Lane.
Oh, and I forgot to add that our dishwasher also shit the bed this week, and my husband has been too busy at work to bother with finding a new one. I’m about to throw myself on the mercy of the Lowe’s folks and attempt my first large appliance purchase without male assistance.
Dan from Missouri says
My parents named me after a kid my mom taught in school. He now owns a lumber yard. I don’t. I don’t even own significant amount of lumber, much less a yard of lumber.
My wife and I named our son after the first guy to go 150 mph on a motorcycle, which occurred in 1948. Any guesses?
Chuck in Belpre says
Your son’s name is Free?
Why guess when you can google? I won’t spoil it, but I hope you’re bringing up the kid to know that swimwear is inappropriate for motorcycling.
(Paul) Stanley Eisen says
Do Ya Feel HOT?!!? Do Ya Feel HHHOOOOTT?
Do ya feel like some rock and roll?
CLEVELAND- DOYA FEEL LIKE SOME ROCK N ROLL????
Top O’ the mornin’ to ya! TOO YAAAAeeeAAhhhh!
FART CLOUD!!!Awwwe Yeah!
FAAaaawwwAAAwwwaAARRRTTTT CLoowwwwddddd…. KISS it!
Ace Frehley- SHOCK ME!!!!
One of my neighbors like to speak English with me (it’s the only chance she gets). Last night we were playing cards and I said “This hand sucks” and then had to try to explain “sucks” to her. Yeah – THAT was easy.
My dad named me and I think my mother said there was a street near him growing up with this name and he always liked it. I hate it. Always have.
Happy Friday, Surfers!
The Qweezy Mark says
Shiny Rod says
Looks more like a Sycamore to me!
My collection of bags is extensive and I’m sure there’ll be some more I’ll pick up along the way. I’ve got quite a few totes and some really good sized satchels. I’ve got two that are quite large. Like steamer trunk size. In my favorite one I keep finding hidden pockets to put stuff so it just keeps expanding.
Lawn mower mojo works every time.
Yeah…and the fuckers look at me like they never in their life haven’t farted at the wrong time. Fuck ‘em.!
On your dishwasher– Ours stopped working a couple of times. Turns out the teenager didn’t pre-rinse the dishes very good and loaded up some pretty thickly coated dishes. The larger food chunks can wind up binding your motor, making it seem like it died.
All we had to do was pull the dishwasher out of it’s hole about a foot and on the bottom right is the motor. Using a screwdriver(or anything similar) you just poke the fan-like blades and manually force them to turn(obviously with the dish washer off, not on). This usually clears out the debris holding it up and let’s it get back to running order.
Ours is a bit older, so they may not all be the same, but this worked like a champ on ours and saved a big repair/replacement bill.
Hope this helps and it’s not something more serious.
Ian the Errolite says
“We still have an hour to go yet.” is how its said in my neck of the woods.
We also say ‘and that’.
We also say ‘or that’ e.g ‘Do you want your lunch here?’ – ‘No thanks I’ll just get a sandwich or that from the shop.’
So there you go.
We lost “Macho Man” Randy Savage. God is shitting on us.
Chuck in Belpre says
“Snap into a red oak!”
Sorry…I know…too soon.
Some people are genuinely upset that this guy croaked. I’m not one of them. I really have no idea who he was.
Son of Sam says
I was named Mark after Mark McCain on the Rifleman
starring Chuck Conners. Big western fans in my fambly.
Shiny Rod says
Good thing my dad chose to name me after his father, I don’t think Hoss, Little John, Fester or Miss Kitty would have worked out well for me.
Son of Sam says
Where the fuck is JTB and Shiney Rod these daze?
Chuck in Belpre says
I was just wondering the same thing.
Me too! Hopefully they’re on vacation.
WB in OH says
Maybe they got raptured! Lord have mercy on our souls!
Shiny Rod says
I’ll have none of that yet! Thank you!
I think Kermit needs to switch to decaf.
Kermit the Phallic Phrog.
Uncle Buzz in Wheeling says
Living in a suburb of Pittsburgh (more or less) I know a little about what is known as “Pittsburghese”
1. ‘and that’ is always shortened to n’at, as in “We went to Giant Iggle for some stuff, then gassed up n’at.”
2. The word yet at the tail end instead of ‘to go’ is pure Pennsylvania Dutch (Deutsch), that is, German. Another one is ‘red up’ meaning to clean or straighten up a room.
3. “Not my bag” comes from the world of jazz back in the day, when horn players would carry their instruments in cloth bags rather than pay for a fitted case.
Hope this helps.
BTW, tomorrow is the end of the world, so I wouldn’t be buying any green bananas at ‘The Iggle” tonight if I were younzes.
Re #3…”Not my bag” has also been used extensively by musicians when going through customs and during car searches when ‘probable cause’ becomes…”Highly likely”.
Mayans everywhere are laughing their ass off right now. And fuck the Hale Bop assholes too.
Well folks, it’s the start of the first summer long weekend here in the great white north. As a public service message, here is my after work itinerary:
Pint 1; mow grass. Pint 2; BBQ mesquite sirloin steak. Pint 3; steak and poutine for dinner, flash flood outside, Flashpoint on CTV. Whiskey 1; playoff hockey on CBC-HD. OH Canada!
Jeff Kay, you have six months to provide me with the resolution I deserve for the rage filled hell ride that was Crossroads Road. By the power of Greyskull I need to know what happens.
Uncle Buzz in Wheeling says
Hmm, that reminds me, Jeff, the book arrived several weeks ago.
Uncle Buzz, I specifically remember signing yours. Are you sure you checked all the front pages of the book? Let me know. I’ll fix it, if I somehow screwed it up.