8.26.2004
it's called a "bub-luh"
one day last week, i told jbun a story about how, in rhode island, we called your typical water fountain a "bubbler," or, in rhody-speak, a "bub-luh." i hadn't thought about this for a really long time, and when it finally crossed my mind, it brought back this whole slurry of feelings from my One Year in Ohio, in which i struggled hard to make new friends and impress folks, only to be ripped from said friends and impressed folks at the peak of my newfound coolness.
that year started off well. i had been smart back in rode hiland, and had to take math and reading classes with the kids one grade up from me, which elicited a not-so-good response from the kids in my own classes. they were just jealous, of course. but when we moved to magical sylvania, ohio, ("tree city, USA!") i was enrolled in this little school called "sylvan," where everyone, not just the sixth graders, switched teachers for different subjects. mr. haas tought science, mostly space stuff, and i had a crush on him. but that's not the point. this new school was full of smartypantses just like me, and i didn't stick out as being smarter or dumber than anyone. i was right there with the rest of 'em, and it was beautiful. i quickly made friends with this girl @ndre@ sk@ggs, she was a little skanky for a third grader, but we had fun together. anyway, i remember how we met.
it was one of the first few days of school. i was lagging a little behind after a class-wide bathroom break. mr. haas called to me from the doorway of the classroom and said "ms. copsey (they called you by your last name at that school, how progressive!), let's go then..." and i said "hang on, i just want to stop at the bubluh real quick." or something to that effect.
i could hear the laughter from inside the room. now, everyone was already either a) impressed or b) totally not impressed with my stories of the blustery east coast, of del's lemonade and real beaches, and my accent was quite a party trick, i must say. but "bub-luh?" i mean, come on. what the fuck is that?!?! i felt like such an asshole. every third grader who's trying to fit in at a new (progressive!) school should know better than to use idiotic rhody-speak slang in front of her new cool ohio classmates! st@c3y tr3siz3, the cutest boy in class (who had actually been not ignorning me, partially on account of my ability to Totally Crush Anyone At Kickball) was the loudest of the laughers. i thought for sure i had ruined all chances at being considered "un-dork."
but then, the semi-skanky (even at age 8!) ms. sk@ggs and her girly minions (i can't remember them at all now) approached me. i figured they wanted to crack on my homemade puffy-painted shirt. but no! they were actually totally interested in my regional kitsch. they wanted to know everything. "ooh, say 'orange' again. hahahaahaaa!" they LOVED the bubluh. and at first, they might have been capitalizing on my ability to be made fun of, but later, we became great friends. sleepovers galore. and having her on my side made most other folks like me too, so that was nice.
and this, my friends, is how you abruptly end a narrative that seems to be going nowhere.
that year started off well. i had been smart back in rode hiland, and had to take math and reading classes with the kids one grade up from me, which elicited a not-so-good response from the kids in my own classes. they were just jealous, of course. but when we moved to magical sylvania, ohio, ("tree city, USA!") i was enrolled in this little school called "sylvan," where everyone, not just the sixth graders, switched teachers for different subjects. mr. haas tought science, mostly space stuff, and i had a crush on him. but that's not the point. this new school was full of smartypantses just like me, and i didn't stick out as being smarter or dumber than anyone. i was right there with the rest of 'em, and it was beautiful. i quickly made friends with this girl @ndre@ sk@ggs, she was a little skanky for a third grader, but we had fun together. anyway, i remember how we met.
it was one of the first few days of school. i was lagging a little behind after a class-wide bathroom break. mr. haas called to me from the doorway of the classroom and said "ms. copsey (they called you by your last name at that school, how progressive!), let's go then..." and i said "hang on, i just want to stop at the bubluh real quick." or something to that effect.
i could hear the laughter from inside the room. now, everyone was already either a) impressed or b) totally not impressed with my stories of the blustery east coast, of del's lemonade and real beaches, and my accent was quite a party trick, i must say. but "bub-luh?" i mean, come on. what the fuck is that?!?! i felt like such an asshole. every third grader who's trying to fit in at a new (progressive!) school should know better than to use idiotic rhody-speak slang in front of her new cool ohio classmates! st@c3y tr3siz3, the cutest boy in class (who had actually been not ignorning me, partially on account of my ability to Totally Crush Anyone At Kickball) was the loudest of the laughers. i thought for sure i had ruined all chances at being considered "un-dork."
but then, the semi-skanky (even at age 8!) ms. sk@ggs and her girly minions (i can't remember them at all now) approached me. i figured they wanted to crack on my homemade puffy-painted shirt. but no! they were actually totally interested in my regional kitsch. they wanted to know everything. "ooh, say 'orange' again. hahahaahaaa!" they LOVED the bubluh. and at first, they might have been capitalizing on my ability to be made fun of, but later, we became great friends. sleepovers galore. and having her on my side made most other folks like me too, so that was nice.
and this, my friends, is how you abruptly end a narrative that seems to be going nowhere.
# posted by Nancy Cunningham @ 11:43 AM 
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