Category Archives: humor

It’s Just Better ~ Tunbridge World’s Fare Part Deux

This year’s TWF poster, by Wendy Judge of Royalton

When I’m not huffing Vicks VapoRub®, canoodling, or making embarrassing typos like “right up your ally,” I’m culling the herd of Deep Thoughts in my noggin to fill again this humble space for your amusement. This week’s deepest thoughts were memories of when, years ago, a friend and I were seeking a place to live and kept driving across the border between Vermont and New Hampshire looking at towns that came recommended.  Every time we crossed into Vermont, we breathed easier.  “It’s just better,” she said.  Which I propose now, 15 years later, as our new state motto.  No disrespect to the Granite State.

One reason Vermont rocks is its annual Tunbridge World’s Fair, or as one fan put it, “Sugar, lights, grease, noisy crowds…wow, an American dream.”  We go for the music, the animals, native Vermonters, rides, maple cotton candy, games of “skill”, and that blend of meats you can’t get at home—and wouldn’t want to but somehow crave once a year. It’s a draw, not a drawback.

Happily, this year’s Dairy Costume Class was the best ever. That’s where kids dress up their young cows and selves in sartorial representations of, say, Surgeon and Nurse. The three winners were Cop and Criminal, Burger and Fries, and Milk and Cookies, all brilliantly realized.

Burger and Fries

Cookies and Milk

Cop and Criminal

When the real-life cop manning the Applause-O-Meter pointed to the girl of Cop and Criminal, I yelled, “Lady cop!” and the guy next to me cried, “Conflict of Interest!” It’s that kind of gig and is my favorite, along with the Livestock Cavalcade (Supreme Dairy Cow, crazy goats, crazier humans in goat carts), which is second only in audience participation to the Coin Drop Cavalcade motorists enjoy on the way in.

The Livestock Cavalcade

I also like to vote on the Art and view the dioramas comprising the Children’s Decorated Vegetables. This year’s eyecatchers were the quilts, and a child’s ridged, skinny squash painted like a blue whale. Remarkable! Outside, my dad ran into an acquaintance in the know. This man said there used to be a Dance Hall where the maple hut now is, and the point was “to go in with your wife, and leave with somebody else’s,” (hey, it was the 60s) and that one year there was “mud wrestling.”  Here’s the convo:

Upper Valley Girl: Mud wrestling?! In the Beer Hall?

Knowledgeable Man:  No, in the field behind the barns.

UVG:  Oh, some kind of impromptu free-for-all after a rainstorm?

KM: Let’s just say this was not a fair-sanctioned event.

UVG:  It was ad hoc?

KM: It was more than that.

Sorry I missed it! Thank you, Knowledgeable Man. We didn’t get into the Girlie Tent years. Way my mom tells it, my great-grandfather was kicked out of the house in Barnard for having come home with lipstick on his collar from that particular “attraction.”  As my Dad tells it, it was something to do with a Girlie woman named “Sally.” What I wouldn’t give to have seen any of it, them in a lather in their old-tymey garb and pre-deodorant BO.

Children’s Decorated Vegetables

This, the 139th year, was the Year of the Chicken and Rabbit. I personally didn’t see much of either except in the overpriced box of greasy popcorn chicken I hauled around for 2 hours before chucking. You can only eat so many of those babies—unless you’re one of the Harringtons of Pomfret, in which case you can eat a whole bucket while watching the Larkin Contra Dancersfor hours on end.

Swine Show

Ah, the TWF. Well, another reason Vermont is so cool is the community vibe. I’ve been lonely in big cities but, upon achieving the Green Mountain State, never so. The laffs are early and often even at choir rehearsal, where everyone reverts to high school chorus behavior and a mosquito laden with EEE, West Nile Virus, and malaria can put the fear of God where it belongs—into the tenors.

So if you’re looking to relocate and you want nutty events and community—and hairy people in pilly sweaters with animal fur on them who don’t dye their hair or shave properly (Green Mountain casual) —it could be for you. It’s also a good place to get zuked. That’s when you leave your car unlocked and someone puts a giant, unwanted zucchini in your back seat. Lock your doors. Good day.

Giantest Squash competition.

How Many Barbies is Enough Barbies?

They’re so…Barbie.

~ To form a kick line?

~ To constitute a quorum?

~ To populate a viable sweat shop?

~ To unionize?

~ To be just one too many stinkin’ Barbies?

In college, with the help of the drunken tarts I called friends, I created a prototype for Party Barbie®. She had one broken high heel, chipped nail polish, bruises, Walk of Shame hair, torn clothing, a cigarette glued to her hand (or was it a fatty?), a black eye ~ you get the picture.  Mattel wasn’t interested.  Bunch of stiffs.

Just Google It

In high school, a classmate’s grandfather would say,Now we’re cooking with gas!” to mean, I think, “Now we’re rolling along, getting things done with modern rapidity.” The comedy being it wasn’t even electricity yet; gas was just a step above wood.  I’ve repeated this for 35 years and no one got it until recently when a woman replied, “My mother used to say that.”  If you’ve read this humble column, you may think I don’t care whether people know what I’m talking about. But it is rewarding when they do.

In college, a friend would sigh, “We live and learn,” when something went amiss. I dug it, but we were only 18. How much wisdom were we really nailing down at that point?

When asked for their most and least favorite expressions, people respond with an alarming if thrilling vigor. I offer you my favorites plus a random sampling from the nutters I call friends. Some were unprintable. Some made the cut. Let’s start with modern expressions.

Girls make this charming new sound when they see something cute, akin to the “Cha!?” of indignation from the 90s.  I can’t get the sound into print without using a musical scale, so if you see me at the bar at Harrington House I’ll do it for you.  I also like when, say, a guy going on a date comes down the stairs dressed like a loser or weirdo, and his friends greet him with, “Seriously?” Seriously? is akin to Really?, which a New York friend detests: “Really? has freaking taken over. To express irate incredulity…” [The rest is unprintable; basically, she’s mad but using it herself uncontrollably.]

I myself loathe the modern Just Google it. Oh? You mean there’s a place I can go besides you for information? Something called the I-n-t-e-r-n-e-t where one can learn f-a-c-t-s?  Oklahoma, OK! Why would I expect you to explain what you’re talking about when I can just go “look it up?” Are you my parent and I’m in sixth grade? But onto the real winners.

UVG Lervs:  A snowball’s chance in Hell; Hell’s bells; Like watching paint dry; The inmates are running the prison; Every which way from Sunday; She’s a real ticket/pistol; rough sledding; My money’s on (whomever is more likely to win the improbable competition just suggested); No walk in the park; Let the fur fly; barnburner; sandbagger; I could care less (false positive); She’s got a bee in her bonnet;  I don’t want to throw ants on your picnic but; As crazy as the day is long; Geez Louise; While we’re young! (said angrily to person in charge by people on a long line going nowhere); Box your own weight (dating); He caught the bullet; Driving the porcelain bus/Talking to Ralph on the big white phone (hurling); I’ve got to see a man about a horse.

Contributors Lerv:  Your barn door is open; I’m not dead yet; All Hell broke loose; Going to Hell in a hand basket; Put the pedal to the metal; MacGyver it; He’s a friend of Dorothy; As welcome as a skunk at a lawn party; It’s colder than a witch’s [cold part]; Not for nothing; In a New York minute; Having one’s knickers in a twist; You’re the bomb; She has a face that could stop a clock; I need an adult (film industry-ese for:  “I need a higher-up/decision maker.”);  To a man with a hammer, every problem is a nail to pound; hot mess; Older than dirt; Having more money than God; Paying through the nose; He could talk a dog off a meat wagon; Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas; Catch more flies with honey than vinegar; and, of course, That’s what s/he said.

CrazyA couple cards short of a full deck; A few sandwiches shy of a picnic; She doesn’t have all her cups in the cupboard; One bubble off plumb.

Vermonty:  Wicked (as adverb); Yeah it does; Clear as mud; The illogical but addictive So don’t I when one is actually in agreement.

Military:  SOL; Loose cannon; Whisky Tango Foxtrot.

Tree surgery: Mind the angle of the dangle.

Southern:  There’s still a little chicken left on that bone (when someone misses a putt); Wanna come with?; He’s just as smart as he can be (i.e. not that smart).

Contributors HateIt is what it is; Bring your A game; The Grass is always greener; Nudge, nudge, wink, wink; That’s the ticket; Get used to it; Don’t go there.

Confusing to me or others:  Sleeping like a baby (did ya sleep well or not?); No skin off my teeth; This fish is either real smart or real dumb (Quint in Jaws – suggested by krazy friend, am unsure of its applications); I can’t afford spats for a hummingbird (Robert Blake in an interview, among other oddities).

What do these mean? Hey, what am I, some kind of source of information? For the love of [deity], just Google it. Good day.

***

Unprintable submissions, more or less in order of ascending foulness

Mother of God; holy mother of God; holy balls (Catholic grandma’s—I can only hope it was the “great balls of fire” type of balls); holy Hell; Jesus, Mary and Joseph; that really chaps my ass/burns my fanny; as welcome as a turd in a punch bowl; as useful as tits on a bull; as tight as a hawk’s ass in a power dive;  busier than a one-armed paperhanger with crabs; he’s got a bug up his ass; they’re blowing smoke up your ass; Christ on a cracker; shit on a shingle; when the shit hits the fan; shit for brains; shitting like a goose; built like a brick shit house; shit sandwich; [Doing something for] shits and giggles; Are you shitting me? — and it’s Elizabethan cousin, “I shit you not.” (Which, according to my Shakespeare expert, should really be, “I shit thee not.” ); I’d tap that.

I leave you with a friend’s gorgeous rant on a hated expression
The most inane and therefore the most popular is “It is what it is.”  Not only is this expression redundant – -“It is” would do the trick — it is entirely unhelpful as an observation when your initial question was “What the fuck is it?”  I think the expression gained popularity after Bill Clinton proposed in his Lewinsky scandal defense “that depends on what the meaning of  ‘is’ is,” and totally blew our minds. “Is” was debatable then. Now it’s not, and neither is “it.”

Ann Aikens can be reached via Facebook (ann.aikens.7), e-mail at uppervalleygirl@gmail.com, Twitter at @uvgvt (http://twitter.com/uvgvt), or her blog at www.uppervalleygirl.wordpress.com. Comments welcome.

And the Livin’ is Easy

And don’t forget to play.

I found this list in a used book I bought this summer. Don’t think I didn’t consider executing it.

Hey RB, if you call me, I’ll drop by. Don’t let your parents’ concern throw you~we’ll have fun!

The only RB i can think of offhand is Roberto Benigni. We’d hoot so loud we’d have to close his parents’ windows. [Rent Night on Earth and watch the Italy segment. I’ll give you a dollar if you don’t laff so hard your pants break.]

My Work Here Is Done

Polar Bears, GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

In a world full of inequity, famine, and marauding rodents, nothing beats laffs. That’s why at a religious retreat this week (I know: UVG and…religion???) my personal best was getting 25 strangers to go Polar Bear in the Atlantic Ocean at 7 a.m., this via a multi-pronged strategy of advertising, freakanomics, extortion, bribery, lying, and begging.  Our paltry daily turnout early in the week had made it clear that the delicious treat of early ayem ocean dipping was going unnoticed, unused, and totally unappreciated.  No more!  My head of marketing and photography did most the work and I’ll take most of the credit. What matters is: everyone was practically drowning from the laffs. Practically.

Who Doesn’t Dig Time Lapse Photography?

There’s too many to watch (trust me), so pick what ya like. The first 2 are my faves. The others are shorter.

TIME LAPSE OF OUR SKY DURING EARTH’S ROTATION

Gorgeous + calming.  Love the moon and shooting stars. 4:18 long.

THE LONGEST WAY “FACE TIME LAPSE WALK”

The Chinese pop music…the people in the background…“Witness a decline.”  5:18

9 MONTHS OF GESTATION IN 20 SECONDS

Boom.

84 DAYS IN 48 SECONDS: BODY TRANSFORMATION TIME LAPSE

A self-proclaimed slob that gets buff. Not shy about showing his pkg. Dig his pink tights.

 LIVING MY LIFE FASTER – 8 YEARS OF JK’S DAILY PHOTO PROJECT

He gets more or less handsome depending on your prefs; acne comes and goes.  1:45

 TIME LAPSE OF A BABY PLAYING WITH HIS TOYS

His primary mode of locomotion appears to be rolling.  With the heart of a pirate! 2:40

SHE TAKES A PHOTO EVERYDAY FOR 3 YEARS

Makes the passage of time poignant. Maybe it’s the piano. Again with the acne. 1:12

CHICK ZOMBIE TIME LAPSE

The magic of makeup. Cheesy as hell.  :59

DURAN DURAN CONCERT SETUP

Girls on film!  Shortest such I could find at :18 long.

STAPLES CENTER IN L.A.

Staples Center in downtown L.A. hosts 6 sporting events over 4-day period.  2 minutes.

EARTH HD| TIME LAPSE VIEW FROM SPACE, FLY OVER | NASA

LERV the Earth at night. From International Space station. 5 minutes but v. cool.

DISCLAIMER: This is not as good as I wanted it to be but there’s a lot of krep on YouTube, seems like.

The Freedom Chronicles

Stuart IV gets a whiff of freedom.

Usually they move too fast to photograph, but I assure you the Stuarts are happy to be freed from their “merciful”  POW-style containment box. Stuart III was the exception, a little baby that actually went back inside the trap. Stuart IV, pictured here, departed at a somewhat leisurely pace as well.

Astonished by his good fortune, Stuart IV heads for the hills.

This is from the film strip they show mice in middle school to discourage them from taking drugs, but that effectively makes them want to take drugs.

The Rodent Relocator’s Dilemma

And don’t forget to hose it down between residents.

Once Stuart Little was gone, there was evidence of his kin thriving. I decided to break out the big guns: d-CON® Bait Pellets, “bait” being a euphemism for “murderous poison.” Only when I got to the store I came upon dCON’s version of a Havahart trap for mice. Who knew?

I lovingly placed a mini Fluffernutter®  inside, and by 3 a.m. someone was in lockdown; I sang him a lullaby and slept fitfully. Due to time constraints the next morning, I dropped him by the river courtside before a tennis match with a bunch of complete strangers, establishing myself right up front as a total nutter. When Stuart Little, Jr. was freed, he literally bounced across the grass (horribly, in the wrong direction) like a kangaroo. The point is this: he was in an absolute lather, wild-eyed, soaked in sweat and urine and Fluff, so traumatized he probably died soon after.

That evening, my housemate took this story in, weighed it, and responded with disgust at my sick cruelty:  “Just get a regular trap. They’ll never know what hit ’em.”

Sigh.

All the News Fit to Be Tied

Support your local paper.

Yahoo! has forever been my home page. Plenty of useful info used to be on there, like the news and movies nearby. But, as is common in modern tymes, Yahoo!’s look magically changed on me and I can’t switch it back.  All I see are inflammatory headlines like “Two stars step out in same pink mini!” (Mini what?)  or “Woman watched NASCAR with dead man” (She waited till the finish to call 911?  She thought he was asleep?)  Most fall into these Who Cares or I Don’t Want to Know categories, so I rarely click on the bait only to be forced to watch a Nissan commercial. But the headlines seem to…taunt…while denying access to real news. I’m fit to be tied.

For I have been falling behind on not only the Kardashians, but the exciting Cruise divorce plus actual news as well. The causes are (1) Yahoo! (2) an abundance of terrible news and (3) a lack of radio news in the car. In summer I listen to music when driving, so my news comes solely from NPR’s weekly current events quiz show, “Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me.”  I know; it’s no good when you’re getting your news from a game show or the bar at Harrington House.

Part of my Summer Program this year (I, for one, diagram seasonal efforts—it’s all the advance planning I can muster) was to read The New York Times daily. Yet somehow I can barely finish the Vermont Standard and the Herald of Randolph (two papers with good news inside) while juggling The Girl Who Played With Fire, The Lotus Eaters, and 50 Shades of Grey, a reported “must-read” by the ladies at Monday night’s Nine and Dine at Montague Golf Club. But someone gave me a Times tip:  just read the op-ed page.  That’s it! My new way. Another one fer ya—I asked a scholar friend how he keeps up with the news. His covert reply: “Listen to NPR for fifteen minutes a day. You didn’t hear it here. If anyone asks you if I said this, I will deny it.” Apparently, you can cheat at current events. And I will.

In New York in the 80s, there was a well-meaning attempt at creating jobs for the homeless called Street News. This was a slender newspaper written and sold by the homeless. There were two problems:  (1) the “news” wasn’t really that interesting and (2) it was sold by crazynutters at top volume on the subway. Kindly straphangers thought, “At least they’re working!” and bought one.  But when a real newspaper columnist referred to it with sarcasm as “this important journal,” well, for me at least, that was the end. If I’m laughing that hard at something, I’m probably not going to buy it.  This important journal was, sadly, not.

Newsflash: The foppish costumes the US Olympians will wear in the opening ceremony (avec giant Ralph Lauren logo on breast) were made in China. No doubt they were made there, shipped here, tailored to the athletes, then shipped back. This galls my inner efficiency monster, but not as much the American athlete-dandies will gall the world, a world that doesn’t need to see the US strolling in once again like a bunch of privileged yachties.  Next time:  Carhartts? Don’t get me wrong. I love the Olympics.

But these are only my opinions on things newsy. I did a random sampling of visitors at Silver Lake. One woman said, “Newscasters are creating issues just so they can argue, without offering any solutions.”  A gent said, “No news is good news—just stay at the lake.” Another recommended the Anne Murray song, A Little Good News. A fourth noted, “It seems there is a lot of ‘news’ worth avoiding lately, like, an article debating whether Lady Gaga is a hermaphrodite…and pretty much anything on Mittens Romney.”

I also offer no solutions. But always one to share good news, I close with this cheery west coast response to a recent column of mine: “The positive power of reality TV does seem to be an untapped resource. My daughter’s school was the subject of a school improvement reality TV show and it did, in the end, after selling its soul many times over, receive enough money to rejuvenate a woefully antiquated auditorium and a quad that used to resemble a Dust Bowl farm.  Part of this transformation included painting the school in what appear to be IKEA flagship colors that nearly gave the math department chair cardiac arrest.”

And that’s all the good news from the bar at Harrington house, where all the women are smart, all the men are drunk, and all the children have new auditoriums. This important column comes to a close.  Good day.

Ann Aikens can be reached on Facebook (ann.aikens.7), via e-mail at uppervalleygirl@gmail.com, or Twitter at @uvgvt (http://twitter.com/uvgvt). Comments welcome.