Argh, tis Smart Bitches and Pirates Day
"avast, matey, Starbucks off ter port bow. Fetch me a mocha latte or I'll lash ye to the capstan and drub ye wi' broken bottles. 'N mark ye, plunder the CVS fer some wax. I be feelin' some stubble near me navel."How in the name of Davy Jones's locker could I have missed it? My kids are getting older and have lost interest? Nah. They weren't the reason we dug Pirate Day around here. Our fourth annual Talk Like a Pirate day and we didn't noticed. Haven't scared the dog once today with a roaring "aaaaaarrrr".
I've always loved pirates, but not lurved them, if you get what I mean. I wanted to be the pirate, not fall for one. Stinky, mannerless, yelling "arrhh" at random times, aye, the pirate's life for me, matey!
When I was ten, I did a report on pirates. Back then, school warn't the life for me, nahhhrrg. That report marked the first time I put my heart and soul into a paper. Damn, I still recall reading how pirate captors used to pickle pirates' bodies (or head, if they were low on pickle juice or rum) so they could bring 'em home across the sea to collect the reward and hang 'em up fer the birds to peck at.
Arrrghh matey, I could tell ya what keelhauling entailed (actually navies used that punishment) and how ter control the stink aboard a small vessel.
Later on, I avoided romances with pirates because ... frankly...ewwwwww.
Then a person I met and liked had written a pirate romance (not Connie Mason). I read it. I gagged. This stink-free pretty boy with all his teeth? a pirate? and what was this garbage about a woman binding her breasts
blah blah blah. There were women pirates, but they didn't try to fool the damn crew they sailed with, did they? On a boat that size? First time she tried to pee off the deck they'd laugh their asses off.
No, sorry. I'm not picking up any more pirate romances. Maybe space pirate. Or someone who doesn't pretend to go for hysterical accuracy--fantasy world is fine. Historical? No thanks. Except maybe Paula Reed. Her privateers (note, not pirates) aren't bored-with-the-ton noblemen.
Pirates for me are verging on Scottish romances for Maili. Find me a pirate romance with the tang of the tar, blood, old sweat, ignorance and filth.
Or then again, maybe not.
I've always loved pirates, but not lurved them, if you get what I mean. I wanted to be the pirate, not fall for one. Stinky, mannerless, yelling "arrhh" at random times, aye, the pirate's life for me, matey!
When I was ten, I did a report on pirates. Back then, school warn't the life for me, nahhhrrg. That report marked the first time I put my heart and soul into a paper. Damn, I still recall reading how pirate captors used to pickle pirates' bodies (or head, if they were low on pickle juice or rum) so they could bring 'em home across the sea to collect the reward and hang 'em up fer the birds to peck at.
Arrrghh matey, I could tell ya what keelhauling entailed (actually navies used that punishment) and how ter control the stink aboard a small vessel.
Later on, I avoided romances with pirates because ... frankly...ewwwwww.
Then a person I met and liked had written a pirate romance (not Connie Mason). I read it. I gagged. This stink-free pretty boy with all his teeth? a pirate? and what was this garbage about a woman binding her breasts
blah blah blah. There were women pirates, but they didn't try to fool the damn crew they sailed with, did they? On a boat that size? First time she tried to pee off the deck they'd laugh their asses off.No, sorry. I'm not picking up any more pirate romances. Maybe space pirate. Or someone who doesn't pretend to go for hysterical accuracy--fantasy world is fine. Historical? No thanks. Except maybe Paula Reed. Her privateers (note, not pirates) aren't bored-with-the-ton noblemen.
Pirates for me are verging on Scottish romances for Maili. Find me a pirate romance with the tang of the tar, blood, old sweat, ignorance and filth.
Or then again, maybe not.
*****
hey!
I was just bugging Sandy's when I remembered how my obsession with Pirates began a gazillion years ago: High Wind In Jamaica was on television. Now that's a good movie. Watch it. Aarrrr. And here's a Fun Fact: Martin Amis the novelist (and son of Kingsley) was one of the kids in that movie.
Aye, but what's up with that pansy scallywag Johnny Depp? When I spent me time on the high seas, eyeliner meant only one thing. It said, "I be the Cap'n's boy toy," it did. Arrr.
ReplyDeleteAnd by the by, how do ye control the stink on yer ship?
Arrr! Cap'n Jack Sparrow can tie me to yon mizzenmast anytime!
ReplyDeleteI be off to "encourage" a dear matey to Talk Like a Pirate for 'er candidate's forum t'nite on ye local boob tube. I warrant it'll cause a stir. Nay?
Arrrr.
Piss for the tough spots whilst swabbing the deck. That's all I can recall. Works well on tar, perhaps?
ReplyDeleteDoesn't seem like a destink method though, does it.
Hey, Laura Kinsale's first book was about a kinda-pirate. It was not at all portrayed as a fun life. In fact, it was made out to be grim and desperate and ick. Try that.
ReplyDelete