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???"
No response.
"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.
2 comments:
I like the way you told this story! I usually hate your story-telling. The stories make me sound like an idiot. But this time...it was you instead!
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