Monday, December 13, 2010

I'm not "scurred" of lions and tigers and "burrs..."

Dear St. Louis:

What is up with the language?

I was waiting in the check-out line at Wal-Mart the other day and a man leaving the store struck up a conversation with a cashier on the way out.

"Your sister was in hurr the other day," she told him.
"I know. We was supposed to be hurr together but she left me thurr," he said.
"Hahaha! Why she leave you thurr?"

What? I felt like I had walked into a Chingy video ("I like the way you do dat right thurr (right thurr)...").

It's beyond me to understand why "there" sounds like "thurr." Same goes with here (hurr). I could say it's part of the Lou's southern feel. I mean, people in the south drink sweet tea and talk about things "over yonder." Who am I to judge?

I was standing in line in Ponderosa one weekend and a lady was asked if she needed a high "churr" for her toddler.

The man giving me my haircut asked if I wanted my sideburns cut up to "hurr." I suppose he meant the bottom of my ear lobe.

I'm not understanding, and I really want to. If someone can explain it, please do. In the meantime, St. Louis, do you. Just as long as it doesn't catch on with me.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Charlie v. The Homeless Man

She stepped gingerly, sniffing the ground as she got used to her new surroundings. Then, she let her stream flow.

It always takes Charlie a minute to find herself a new place to go to the bathroom, so the fact that she was starting her process less than 30 seconds after we arrived at Kaufman Park near our new digs. She ran around in a circle for a second before beginning the second phase.

"Hey! Hey! What the..." a voice began.

Out of the shadows came an older black man, maybe in his late 50s, looking exhausted, but frustrated with us.

"Why you got her doing her business on my floor?" he said, slurring his speech.

By "floor" he meant grass. In a public park.

But Charlie had already seen too much. She stopped in the middle of what she was doing and, tugging at the leash, beckoned me to a place far away from our first enemy in our new land.

I brought her out the next day to try again. She wouldn't go. It was like she was waiting for something.

Waiting for him. Waiting to be interrupted again.

We walked two blocks in the other direction toward the park between the St. Louis Schools building and my new job. There, she had no problems at all.