“What kind of car is that?” Anna asked her husband, who fancied himself to be a car buff. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
It’s a Citroen Deux Chevaux,” Brad said. “It’s rare to see one over here.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Anna said.
“That’s not surprising,” Brad said. “It was a French car and it was in production from 1948 through 1990. It was said to be France’s answer to Germany’s Volkswagen. The idea was to make cars affordable for regular people. It’s a classic.”
Di (aka Pensitivity101) and Melanie (Sparks From a Combustible Mind) alternate as hosts for Fibbing Friday, a silly little exercise where we are to write a post with our answers to the ten questions below. But as the title suggests, truth is not an option. The idea is to fib a little, a lot, tell whoppers, be inventive, silly, or even outrageous, in our responses. Di continues to fly solo, as Melanie is taking an indefinite hiatus from blogging due to ill health. Anyway, here are some phobias Di would like us to define.
Ablutophobia — a fear of the color blue
Androphobia — a fear of robots
Ataxophobia — a fear of having the IRS audit your tax return
Autophobia — a fear of getting crushed by automatic doors
Bathmophobia — a fear of drowning in the bathtub
Chromophobia — a fear of using Google’s Chrome browser
Ephebiphobia — a fear of the letter F
Genuphobia — a fear of genuflecting
Heliophobia — a fear of dying in a helicopter crash
Nomophobia — a fear of insulting the host at a dinner party by saying “No more” when offered more food.
Osmophobia — a fear of being absorbed by another substance through osmosis
Podophobia — a fear of pea pods
Trypophobia — a fear of tripping and falling
Wiccaphobia — a fear of Wiccans and witches
Zuigerphobia — a fear of zebras and other animals with stripes
Paula Light, at Light Motifs II, has this prompt she calls TGIF. She encourages us to take this opportunity to openly chat or Jabber about anything we want.
Language Barrier Breakthrough
A few months back I had some extensive landscape work done by a contractor. It involved tearing out my front lawn and replacing it with drought tolerant plants, boulders, and a dry rock riverbed. The landscaper said that he would replace, at no cost, any plants that died within three months.
Well, two died. One in the front and one in the back. This morning, he sent José, a member of his team, to remove the dead shrubs and replace them with new ones. When he finished with the one in the front, he knocked at my front door. It became clear when he started speaking that he didn’t speak English. I don’t speak Spanish. So I shrugged my shoulders as he spoke, which is when he made hand gestures indicating he was going to now head to the back of the house.
I nodded to tell him it was fine, but then he started talking in Spanish again. And again I shrugged, indicating I didn’t understand what he was saying. Then he said three words: “woof, woof, woof.”
I smiled and said, “Our dog is in the house, so it’s okay for you to go in the backyard,” and flashed him the okay hand sign. It was a real breakthrough.
Do I Smell Like an Old Person?
First, I am an old person. Second, I’ve taken to showering every other day, not only to save water during our drought, but because I hardly ever go anywhere anymore. Today was my day to take a shower, but all I’m doing today is taking a quick run to the grocery store and tomorrow we’ll be heading over to visit our grandkids. So I figured I’d wait to take a shower tomorrow morning.
Anyway, after I got dressed, I asked my wife to smell me. “Do I smell like an old person?” I asked.
“You are an old person,” she responded.
“But do I smell like an old person?” I asked. “You know, that stale, musty, moth bally-like smell that old people have?”
“You’re being ridiculous,” she said. “And pick me up a bottle of wine when you’re at the store.” As I was stepping out the door, she called out, “You may want to wash your clothes more often.”
And on that note, happy TGIF, everyone.
Included in this post is the Ragtag Daily Prompt (breakthrough).
“Hey, babe, mix me a drink,” Frank told his wife. “Scotch and a touch of soda.”
“You don’t need another scotch,” Erin said. “You’re already drunk.”
“Oh quit being such a grouch,” Frank snapped. “I’m a goddam writer and all of the best writers were drunks. We novelists need our stamina, you know, to ensure that what we write shows passion and energy. We can’t allow our work to turn out to be ordinary and mundane, goddammit.”
Erin turned around, left Frank’s office, and returned a few minutes later with his scotch and soda. “Here’s your goddam drink,” she said as she pounded it down on his desk.
Frank jumped. “Hey, you got scotch all over my draft manuscript. What’s your fucking problem, Erin?”
“My problem, you old drunk,” Erin said, as Frank took a large sip of the drink, “is that it’s really a shame that you never had the same stamina for me as you have for your writing. Or the energy or passion. Instead, you’ve ignored me, taken me for granted, and our life together has been terribly mundane.”
Erin got a big grin on her face. “I’m through with it and I’m through with you, Frank. And now that you’ve finished that drink I spiked for you, you’re over and I’m just beginning to write a whole new story for myself.”
Written for these daily prompts from yesterday: The Daily Spur (mix), Fandango’s One Word Challenge (drink), Your Daily Word Prompt (grouch), My Vivid Blog (writer), Ragtag Daily Prompt (stamina), and Word of the Day Challenge (mundane).