All of this week I’ve been getting thrust into a foreign country and find I can’t speak to the locals. Try as I might to interpret what they’re saying, all I hear is gibberish. As with all foreign languages, I suppose it would have been easier to learn as a child, but maybe it’s not too late for me. I hear there are classes available…specifically for women, too.
The foreign country? Princess Auto.
The language? Tool Talk. Or Mechanical Speak.
For those of you who don’t know what Princess Auto is, it’s basically a huge mecha store of automotive supplies. For someone like me, it might as well BE a foreign country.
Adrian has been sending me there on errands all this week. I have to go because HE works all day and, apparently, I have all of the time in the world. (I do have some time; I’m just being resentful). He even gives me a list but I don’t understand a word on the thing. So, I have to go up to a Pincess Auto worker and admit that I’m clueless and can he please please help me? Then? He starts asking me all sorts of questions that I can’t begin to understand. What do I do? I desperately phone Adrian.“Adrian, he says they don’t have gobbledy bla, but they do have bloobly bleh. Is that okay?” He responds with, “uh, do they have it in 3/8 ths?” “Yup.” “Okay, I’ll take two.”
It feels strange to carry on a conversation and have no idea what it is I said! And to top it off, every time I call him, he adds things to the list!“Oh. I also need you to pick up three moochy mlippers” “Sigh. Okay.”
I am totally sending him to buy me some bra and panties next week.