In honor of Beth:
Beth and her visiting friend Betsy were going off to move Betsy's car so she wouldn't get a ticket for parking in Brookline overnight. The action roused me from my dazed nap on the futon. "Guys!" I called after them in an anxious tone. "What is BUBAR???"
"I'm serious! What is bubar? It is like a joke we had or something. What does it mean again?" My confused questions were met with an even more baffled silence.
"Uhhh Katie, I have no idea what 'bubur' means. You're asleep." Beth said, almost patronizingly.
"Do you mean 'bubber'?" Betsy hopefully suggested the diminutive term I use for those I find endearing (particularly for Beth).
"No I don't mean bubber. I mean BU-BAR. Like we took the word boo-bar and changed the first syllable to a long U."
"Yeah sorry we cannot help you there." Those effing bubars. They went outside and I fell back to the sofa and the clutches of those wild, wild dreams again. What is bubar? Maybe we'll never know.