Notes from a Walkman Junkie: Roll It In Jimmies II: The Return
I am back from another MA ‘roll it in jimmies‘ vacation and feeling exhausted as well as very attached to my living room floor. Confidently, I can attribute this extreme fatigue and floor predilection to the following conditions: A wonky hotel mattress, a creepy ship captain painting (of the ‘eyes follow you everywhere’ variety), and a steady stream of coffee in the morning and wine in the evening. As anticipated, much was gleaned from this annual East Coast trip. In addition to last year’s schooling of the definition of ‘jimmies’, I now know what a ‘bulkie roll’ is, courtesy of an extremely verbally perspicacious waitress. After perusing the breakfast menu at the local diner, one of my travel companions curiously asked, “What is a bulkie roll?” To which the waitress flatly answered, “It’s like..you know, a bulkie roll.” Mainly this year’s trip consisted of some greatly appreciated quality family beach time; we swam, collected rocks, went kayaking, and admired the brist and arse sand sculptures, masterfully crafted by my boyfriend, Jackson. A bit of sun basking was also involved which confirmed that while my skin is pasty white enough to reflect the sunlight, I am able to gather and harvest a smattering of freckles in various locations. A fact that sadly puts an end to my aspirations of one day starring in a mozzarella cheese commercial (True story: I was approached once on a beach in Italy to be in a mozzarella cheese ad).
Hands down, the highlight of these getaways is always the time spent with my favorite people and this year was no exception. There were many standard exchanges between my father and I: Dad Almirall, “Do you still work out?” Me, ” No, I run.” Dad Almirall, “Would you like a glass of wine?” Me, ” Yes, a big one.” Me, “There is a giant bug on your shoulder.” Dad Almirall, “That’s my head.” etc.. My family and I enjoyed working on crossword puzzles together as well, debating whether or not ‘Hemingway’s poopy time’ was in fact the correct answer. I also was able to have several important conversations with my brother, John, concerning the proper use of the term, ‘horsefuck’ when used in an expression to relay the magnitude in strength of particular accomplishments. An example of the phrase being correctly used would be, “We totally horsefucked that mountain.” Translation being, “We climbed that mountain with great success.” An example of the phrase being used incorrectly would be, “I’m going to horsefuck that sea gull.” Intended translation being, “I’m going to cause physical injury to that sea gull.” You can see from this example that the user’s meaning could easily be misinterpreted. As John’s girlfriend, Gina, keenly pointed out, you want to avoid using any subject in the declaration that could be potentially (horse) fucked. I continuously misused the expression through out the week saying things like, “These damn mosquitos are horsefucking me.” And, “John, your GPS system just horsefucked us.” Apparently we are not to be the objects on the receiving end of the horsefucking, but I still stand by the GPS thing. Another popular saying bandied about during our stay was, “I’m going to go all kinds of toilet.” It should be noted that divulging such a statement is an incredibly expeditious way to start and end a conversation.
As promised in my previous ‘Roll It In Jimmies’ article, I checked out T-Pain’s latest song, “Buy You a Drank” though, I must say, it did not get any play on the trip and is therefore, dead to me (though quite amusing and a lovely follow up to the previous hit, Bartender). I have come away from this vacation with no real specific song associations, but I was reminded of a nice little band, Electrocute, when I came home and discovered my outlandish electric bill; transpicuously run up by Edgar’s wild cocaine/bunny hooker parties while I was away.