I received a phone call from Mother Jo Burn recently that went something like this:
Me: “Hello”
Jo Burn: “When you go runnin’ do you wea shoats (shorts)?” (Note: there was no greeting, just this question presented in an urgent panicky tone.)
Me: “Ummm, yea. It’s the summer and I live in Brooklyn. I confess I do wear shorts when I run. WHY???”
Jo Burn: (Super agitated) “Well, you ah NOT to wear shoats! Do you undastand me? I saw a intaview with a police officah who said runnin shoats attract attention. You ahh not to attract attention. That’s how people get murdered!! Do you want to be murdered??”
Me: “No, I don’t want to be murdered. What do you propose I wear then?”
Jo Burn: “Sweat pants. Baggy sweat pants. They’re safe."
Me: “Sweat pants. Yes. Great idea. I’ll go buy some right now.”
Moral of the story: Be safe. Wear sweats.
3 comments:
OMG Every time you write in your mother's dialect, I piss myself laughing. I can HEAR it in my head - my grandmother on my mom's side sounded just like that, only add the occasional WHOOOSH as she exhaled her unfiltered Camels.
WHOOOSH...
i f'in love that!
Oh, my god. Are your mom and my grandmother the same woman?
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