Thursday, December 27, 2007

Letting my roots show

Despite the Witchcraft and the homosexuality and everything in between, I am, at my core, a Southern white male between the ages of 18 and 35. As such, whenever my East Indian neighbors speak to each other in Hindi, their volume and cadence automatically and discriminatorially leads me to assume they're arguing, even when circumstances dictate obvious otherwise.

What I think they're saying:

"I hate you!"

"I hate you more!"

"I hate you far more than you could ever hate me!"

"Bullshit you do!"

What they're probably really saying:

"Please let me help you carry the groceries."

"How sweet of you to offer."

"No problem at all, my dearest."

"You're my little curry cupcake, yes you are."

I hate language barriers.


Anne Johnson said...

At least you aren't paranoid. When I hear people speaking other languages, I immediately think they're saying, "Look at that ugly hag over there! Aren't you glad you aren't her?"

What a laff that you went to church on Xmas Eve! Did they hold up the little candles and sing "Silent Night?" It's been a while since I snored through one of those ordeals. A big ol' bonfire in the back yard is so much more fun.

Evn said...

Sometimes I think people speaking in other languages are talking about me. But then I think, "Hey, at least they're technically saying it to my face."

We did indeedy hold up little white candles and sing "Silent Night"... except we're supposed to kneel at that part, and the guy sitting in front of me refused to. I kept moving my candle closer and closer to his head, hoping he'd get the hint, but he never caught on.

Code Name Sarah said...

This is sort of unrelated, but at first glance I thought this was entitled "Letting my robots show."

I mean, yeah, that didn't make sense, but I was intrigued. What were the robots showing, exactly? Was it a euphemism for something else?

Ah, the possibilities...

Evn said...

It's a Robot Parade!