Saturday, December 12, 2009

Talkin’ Bout My Generation

While writing my last post I realized half of it was about how nutty my parents are. And I don’t really think it’s just my parent’s individual personalities that make them crazier than bat shit. I think it’s also the generation they came from and how quickly our generation has labeled them “lame-os.” I mean, these are people we love very much (moms, dads, aunts, uncles, grandparents) but they are like, so totally not informed. If you think about any time in your life that you have wanted to appear awesomely badass, I can guarantee your parents are not a part of that scenario. So these people raised us and essentially molded what we have become; how can they have such a different understanding of things…especially language? It’s as if we speak a different dialect of English. Allow me to explain…

Gay/Queer: Seriously these poor words have been so tangled in a weird web that maybe it isn’t even totally the fault of generations. But still “gay” and “queer” used to mean “happy” and “strange” to a majority of the baby boomers. But now the greater portion of society uses these words as derogatory terms. After being a substitute teacher for a year, I cannot tell you on how many instances I’ve heard “That’s so gay,” or “Stop being such a fucking queer dude.” I really, really would like to say “Oh child. It’s ok. I know using these sophomoric generalized terms for homosexuals makes you feel very confident in your heterosexuality. But I know my fair share of actual gay men. All you need is a trip to Banana Republic and a couple gin and tonics and you’d fit right in. Stop being such a dick. Oh, and you’re tardy. Thanks.”

Thong: Once upon a time my family was going to the Ohio State Fair. Enchanting. My mother looked at me and said “Uh…you’re not going to wear thongs to the fair are you?” I was aghast. First of all, who wears two thongs and second, what business was it of hers what kind of undergarments I wore? (Not that I wear thongs that often. You may tell me that I won’t have panty-lines with them. So friggin’ what. There are a lot worse things than people knowing I’m actually wearing underwear.) After we translated through our language barrier, I realized my mom was talking about my flip-flops. This is an essential word to work out with parents, especially if you hear your dad yell, “Hey! Watch out. You have dog shit on your thong!”


Dutch oven: This is a real good one. One of the small joys in my life is discovering that something juvenile and disgusting (and funny) has an actual name. Dutch oven is one of those things. If you are sleeping with or sitting cozily on the couch with someone and you are flatulent, most people would hope the smell dissipates away quickly before the bomb is smelled. However, if you are a big jerkwad, you pull the covers over your blanket-mate so they most assuredly know you farted…and have to smell it up close and personal. You have just created a Dutch oven. When I heard my aunts talking about a Dutch oven one day I busted up laughing. Why were they talking about farting under the covers and gassing one of my uncles? But of course they weren’t talking about my childish definition of the term…they were talking of the cooking apparatus. I really hope I never cook something that calls for preparation in a Dutch oven. If I open the lid to get a whiff I’ll probably die of laughter before I finish my recipe.

Douche bag: One of my favorite movies is “Wet Hot American Summer.” If you’ve never seen it you really should if only because these actors are in it: Bradley Cooper, Amy Poehler, Chris Meloni (chyeah, the tough-ass from Law and Order:SVU), Michael Ian Black, and Molly Shannon. Good shit right there. One of the best lines is in a scene where a hoity-toity, hot girl calls a nerdy kid a “Douche bag.” His response “Douche bags are a hygienic product; I take that as a compliment.” Imagine what our parents thought when we started tossing that term around. I find myself using it daily and in many different parts of speech: “What a douche bag,” “That’s so douchey,” “He majors in douche baggery,” you get the picture.

Grill: In boomer generation speak, this is my dad’s favorite thing. Grilling me about what jobs I’ve followed up on, marinating a chicken he will eventually grill, looking lovingly (and covetously) at all the grills when we go to the Home Depot. But I think a lot of people my age think of something else when we hear the word. For a long time when someone was invading my space or personal business, I was fond of saying “Get up out my grill, jeez.” Then all our favorite rappers decided that they would make retainers cool buy dipping them in gold and chrome and bedazzling them. What up…we got Grillz!

Junk in the Trunk: This is a favorite of my sister and me because my mom so eloquently shouted it out one day. I think it was the morning my sister was moving back to college and she was cramming all of her stuff in her car. All of the sudden my mom opens the trunk and says with a sigh “Jeez…you’ve got a lot of junk in your trunk.” I believe we were in tears with laughter. And I’m sorry we weren’t laughing with my mom, we were laughing at her. If we had been quick with witty comebacks I’d have treasured if my sister would have said “Thanks for noticing my bootylicious ass Mom. Much apprec!”

Shot your wad: I’m leaving this one for last because it is an epic tale that I still laugh about daily. I’m not kidding. When I’m feeling sad, I simply remember this favorite thing and then I don’t feel so bad. So my parents, sister, and I went shopping at a furniture store because my mom was picking out a loveseat or chair or something. After agonizing over the decision, my mom chose her furniture and we went out for dinner. As we were leaving my sister and I did the requisite chug your drink, refill, and take it with you move. We’re American, come on, when it says free refills you best get several! On the way home, sipping our pop in the back seat we hear my dad say to my mother “Well, you really shot your wad tonight!” Choking and sputtering and general pandemonium from my sister and I. “What did you say Dad??” we shouted. He explained that my mom had really spent a lot of money…so apparently he used the time-honored saying “Shot your wad” to express himself. I don’t know about you…but that phrase most definitely, definitely doesn’t mean the same to the younger generation as it does the older. So I’m not going to go into detail. Parents: just don’t say that. Ever. Please. Thank you.

These are just a few of the many, many examples of the generation gap. Especially when it comes to language. If you have any interesting stories of miscommunication please post a comment with your story. I think the only way we can move past our differences and to once again understand each other is to share our experiences. Haha…or we can just continue to be douche bags and make fun of our loved ones when they make silly blunders. That’s way more fun.

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