Holiday accents
I'm wrapping gifts in my cozy studio apartment, trimming velvet ribbons amidst the lush patchwork and scarves and burning a cinnamon Yankee Candle. Tempted to get crocked on eggnog or hit one of the local bars and say, well hi there! Mer-ry Christmas! There's a fantastic "old man bar" on the end of my block full of hunched Yorkville old timers. My neighbors call it "the waiting room." It starts to look good this time of year.
Used to live in Yonkers. Originally from Jersey. I am accustomed to Local Color. Anyone who's seen me flirt with guidos knows this. "AW YEAH RIGHT JERKY!!" "WHATEVA THERE! WHERE'S YOUR IROC??" Usually we wind up having a nice conversation about Van Halen and that's that. These guys are pretty gentlemanly, actually. Maybe I shouldn't knock the guidos. Carmine, if you are reading this, I swear it isn't about you. And I still have your number.
Going to the grocery store in Yonks provided added value. Not just the prices, but the fun. Buying grapefruits once earned me a fond exchange on the checkout line. "YOU LIKE GRAYPFRUIT!" A shrill caw from behind me. The five foot tall blue-haired, bifocaled, housecoated woman vehemently lauded my methods of staying slim. "IT...CUTS...THE...FAT! IT JUST CUTTS IT. YA EAT FYAT? GRAYPFRUIT? IT CUTTS THUH FYAT! CUTTS IT!"
These accents were tremendously contagious. I and a friend sat in my kitchen on Bronx River Road craving dinner, but it was only 4. "HAVE A CRACKA" I extended a box of assorted pepperidges. She gazed grouchily at the box and then at me. Her long hair was in a tight bun. She squinted. "I DON'T WANNA FILLUP ON CRACKAS." My answer was automatic. "OK THEN HONEY LET'S GO KETCH THA OILY BOYD." "YEAH," she acquiesced, "I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE A NICE PIECE A FISH. LET'S GO GETTA NICE PIECE A FISH." We went to a large old place adorned with ropes and nets and had FLOUNDA.
I don't want to bore you with too many dialect stories, but I have one more from Yonks. One of my roommates at the time, a boyish little thing with slow, self-conscious speech, overheard a precious old-lady-debate on the bus that crawled our neighborhood, Bronks/Yonks.
Glasses on a chain: "I LOVE CHOYNEEZ FOOD BUT IT'S NOT SO GOOD FOR YA."
Pillbox hat: "BUTCHA ALWAYS FEEL HUNGRY LAYTA! AWL THE VEJTABALS!"
Glasses: "YEAH, BUT IT'S GOT THA SOYA SAUCE. I DONNO ABOUT THE SOYA SAUCE."
Hat: "OH, YEAH, THE SOYA SAUCE. LOTTA SODIUM IN THE SOYA SAUCE."
Glasses: "IT'S GOT A LOTTA GREASE TOO. VERY OILY, AND IT'S GOT THE SOYA SAUCE, BUT I STILL LOVE CHOYNEEZ FOOD."
Had I been on that bus, I'd have turned around to face those sweet yet opinionated neighborhood lifers and suggest they accompany their chow mein with...GRAPEFRUIT.
That might have settled the matter.
Happy Holidays!
xo Yael
Used to live in Yonkers. Originally from Jersey. I am accustomed to Local Color. Anyone who's seen me flirt with guidos knows this. "AW YEAH RIGHT JERKY!!" "WHATEVA THERE! WHERE'S YOUR IROC??" Usually we wind up having a nice conversation about Van Halen and that's that. These guys are pretty gentlemanly, actually. Maybe I shouldn't knock the guidos. Carmine, if you are reading this, I swear it isn't about you. And I still have your number.
Going to the grocery store in Yonks provided added value. Not just the prices, but the fun. Buying grapefruits once earned me a fond exchange on the checkout line. "YOU LIKE GRAYPFRUIT!" A shrill caw from behind me. The five foot tall blue-haired, bifocaled, housecoated woman vehemently lauded my methods of staying slim. "IT...CUTS...THE...FAT! IT JUST CUTTS IT. YA EAT FYAT? GRAYPFRUIT? IT CUTTS THUH FYAT! CUTTS IT!"
These accents were tremendously contagious. I and a friend sat in my kitchen on Bronx River Road craving dinner, but it was only 4. "HAVE A CRACKA" I extended a box of assorted pepperidges. She gazed grouchily at the box and then at me. Her long hair was in a tight bun. She squinted. "I DON'T WANNA FILLUP ON CRACKAS." My answer was automatic. "OK THEN HONEY LET'S GO KETCH THA OILY BOYD." "YEAH," she acquiesced, "I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE A NICE PIECE A FISH. LET'S GO GETTA NICE PIECE A FISH." We went to a large old place adorned with ropes and nets and had FLOUNDA.
I don't want to bore you with too many dialect stories, but I have one more from Yonks. One of my roommates at the time, a boyish little thing with slow, self-conscious speech, overheard a precious old-lady-debate on the bus that crawled our neighborhood, Bronks/Yonks.
Glasses on a chain: "I LOVE CHOYNEEZ FOOD BUT IT'S NOT SO GOOD FOR YA."
Pillbox hat: "BUTCHA ALWAYS FEEL HUNGRY LAYTA! AWL THE VEJTABALS!"
Glasses: "YEAH, BUT IT'S GOT THA SOYA SAUCE. I DONNO ABOUT THE SOYA SAUCE."
Hat: "OH, YEAH, THE SOYA SAUCE. LOTTA SODIUM IN THE SOYA SAUCE."
Glasses: "IT'S GOT A LOTTA GREASE TOO. VERY OILY, AND IT'S GOT THE SOYA SAUCE, BUT I STILL LOVE CHOYNEEZ FOOD."
Had I been on that bus, I'd have turned around to face those sweet yet opinionated neighborhood lifers and suggest they accompany their chow mein with...GRAPEFRUIT.
That might have settled the matter.
Happy Holidays!
xo Yael
posted by yaeligirl at 10:22 PM
1 Comments:
This is hilarious.
Shebrew magazine.
more in email.
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