It was a Friday night. I had just gotten my squirt gun death sentence handed to me by Henry. The TV was on but no one was really watching it, until Alisha – probably becoming annoyed with me – decided to ask, “What the fuck movie is this, anyway?” because it was one of them old-fashioned flicks ya’ll might run across on the telly-vision every now and then.
Henry hit the info button and the synopsis said something about politics, romance and miscegenation in the South. He was all, “Doo-dee-doo, what does that word mean, you guys?” and I realized that I had never seen that word before. And I like words. I’m what you might call one of those word-likers. (And barring all the typos you see here on the daily, I swear to god I’m a good speller too! I’m just blog-sloppy!) And Alisha, who is typically quite snooty when it comes to anything where she can brag about how intelligent she is, admitted defeat as well. So I looked it up on dictionary.com using my phone.
Now, there is nothing funny about the definition of this word. It just basically means “interracial relationship” and to laugh at that would be racist and bigoted. I’m not either of those things, but I laughed anyway. And continued to laugh for a very long time. In fact, when I first saw the definition, I laughed like I was on “Silent Library” – a hearty, husky, deep-throated, “Haaaaaaaah!!” so that Alisha and Henry were leaning forward, asking, “Well, what does it mean??” When I told them, they recited a very anti-climatic, “Oh.”
“How do you say it?” Alisha asked. I was going to walk over to the computer to pull up dictionary.com on there, so I could listen to the pronunciation. But something made me try it on my phone first. I didn’t expect it to work, because my Blackberry is such a fickle cocksucker sometimes, but it pulled up my media player and moments later, a male computer voice was saying, “miscegenation” over and over.
I COULD NOT STOP LAUGHING. The only other person laughing was Chooch, because he is my son and he just gets it. HE GETS IT. I was laughing so hard, I had to squeeze my thighs together so I wouldn’t leak. I was laughing so hard, I could feel my face growing red and suffocation marching in over the idiocy horizon.
“I wonder if I can save this and make it a ring tone?” I wheezed.
AND THEN I FOUND OUT THAT I COULD! AND SO I DID! And then I made Alisha call me 47 times so I could squat in a puddle of hysteria and swipe away at the funny-tears. And then Chooch got upset and said, “I DON’T want to hear it anymore!” Jesus Christ Chooch, I had only been playing it for an hour!
Every chance I got, I’d use it. But I can only say it in a deep whisper, stuttering the “m” so it’s more like m-m-m-iscegenation. And then I start laughing riotously while Henry scowls at me in disgust. CHOOCH SAYS IT TOO! Watch So You Think You Can Dance for a good example of miscegenetic dancing!
A week later, I was reading a book she had lent me and I came across this:
And yay, I finished this before 9:30 so now I can pee!