I am a sponge that absorbs people’s dialects, mannerisms and accents, especially when they’re funny. Last week at the LA Comedy Shorts Film Festival I met a lot of funny people.
Most of my parroting didn’t last too long though; after meeting Janet from the UK at the hotel gym, I only spoke like a Russell Brand stalker for a couple of hours. I loved the hilarious short Douglas from Daily Fiber Films about a guy whose flatulence is triggered when he talks, but I managed to only fart when I laughed. But a couple of phrases from the weekend stuck all week.
When we saw What up Little Kid from Big Dog Eat Child films, a musical short about a brat, I almost tooted myself out of the seat. It’s been nearly a week and I have adopted “What up little kid?” as my standard greeting for my husband.
The one that could get me in the most trouble came from Donnell Rawlings’ short Ashy to Classy a spoof on Donnell’s career. We got to spend a little time talking with Donnell at the weekend’s parties and he is a great guy who laughed at our jokes and didn’t judge me for my bacon addiction, so of course I soaked up some of the funny from his film.
Thusly, this week during a wee fit of irritability, which rarely happens as I am usually a saint, I snapped at my beloved husband and instead of greeting him with a warm “What up little kid” I blasted with a solid, “It’s a new day, ya ashy mother fucker!”
And he doesn’t even have dry skin.
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