Three generations, one car
Me: Hey, is that your MP3 player? What's on it?
My niece [sorting through songs]: Green Day ... Jessica Simpson ... you'll have to read that one. I can't say it.
Me: "Shake Ya Ass". You can't say that?
My niece: I'll get in big trouble.
["Shake Ya Ass" pumps through car stereo, which is connected to MP3 player by a patch cord. Meanwhile, in the front seat ...]
My mom: Green light, Jennifer.
My sister: It just turned! What, you want me to take off like a racecar driver?
My mom: I don't want to get peeped at. I live in mortal terror of being peeped at.
My sister: You haven't fuckin' lived until you've been peeped at, ma. Then you can give 'em the finger!
9 Comments:
Is "peeped" Canadian for "honked"?
If so, it's the first I've heard of it.
As a proud Canadian, it is my first time, as well.
Peter, I bet your mother woke up that morning and decided, while standing in front of the mirror, that she would fly in the face of all reason, say the word "peeped" that day, throw up her hands, and live a little.
I live in the US, so I field these questions all the time. "Peeped" is Canadian for "peeped".
Same thing as "beeped at", judging by the context.
I assumed it literally meant "peeped", i.e. getting the evil eye from people as they go around you. Perhaps I was foolish in leaving that earlier comment.
That would, after all, be the ideal time to give them the finger.
Ok.Yes,"peeped at" is the same as getting honked at. Thanks Pete. You brightened up my shitty day.
Did I really say fuckin' and Mom didn't try to swat me? LOL
Jennifer
You say the Fuck-word in front of her constantly. I don't think either of you notices. Maybe she does, but getting you to stop cursing is like trying to get you to stop smoking: You've been doing it nonstop for the last quarter-century and it's futile to get you to stop, so she'd rather just pretend you're not doing it.
I think it's kind of funny, anyway. It reminds me of David Sedaris talking about the youngest Sedaris sibling, Paul, who ... well, I'll let this Salon review of Me Talk Pretty One Day take over here:
[...] who calls himself the Rooster, speaks exclusively in ghetto profanity and has an
inexplicably close bond with his mild-mannered father:
When my father complained about his aching feet, the Rooster set down his two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew and removed a fistful of prime rib from his mouth, saying, "Bitch, you need to have them ugly-ass bunions shaved down is what you need to do. But you can't do shit about it tonight, so lighten up, motherfucker."
All eyes went to my father, who chuckled, saying only, "Well, I guess you have a point."
Post a Comment
<< Home