E-mail: Brian7Morris "at" hotmail.com Archives March 2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 current Blogs Mandapants farkleberries Uranium City Records The C.M. Sienko Foundation Storyteller Musings Solotarian Views Lynne Wiora Tek Poker News Blog Some Biscuits Evil Eye Emporium Niggling Doubts Pressure Release Sara as Mommy runswithscissors Defective Yeti Afternoon Delight trancejen The Terrarium Bird Nird Slipperily Tofu Hut Stereo Gum Links Fixed Gear Gallery Get Crafty This is Grand Featherproof Books Gapers Block Chicago Bird Watching	No one must know my terrible secret... House of Noh! Thursday, October 21, 2004 I just found my parents’ old Dutch Oven deep within the scariest room in the basement. It was covered with dust. I’m going to name it Dutchy, or Sir Cooks a lot, or Dutch Dutch the Crock Pot, or Dutchy McOven. I’m thinking that I’ll be able to set it on my hot plate in my apartment and bake my moutain man sourdough bread in it. Did you know that I was one quarter Dutch? My Grandma is full Dutch, she even knows Dutch. When we were little kids she taught us a swear word in Dutch. It sounded something like, “Lick My Fasse!” but it doesn’t have anything to do with any licking or any body part of the person cursing - that’s just a clumsy attempt at translating it with English. It’s Dutch! I think it means something like “Stick something of yours up something of yours, you fucking sick fucker, and go fuck yourself!” at least that’s how my Grandma explained it to me. I was quite young at the time and I found the translation upsetting, especially when my Grandma said it with feeling – if I remember right she had to take out her teeth (which is a totally rad) before I stopped crying. There’s actually a lot of phrases in English that belittle the Dutch. My mom (half Dutch) takes great umbrage when people talk about “Dutch Courage.” Dutch courage is when I do something that I normally wouldn’t, just because I’m drunk, like the time that guy kept saying that my beard was “too big” (I heard him say it numerous times, and quite clearly) from across the room so I went over to him and said some really hurtful things about him and grabbed big fistfuls of his shirt and then he grabbed fistfuls of my shirt and we pushed each other around and knocked those people’s drinks off their table until his shirt ripped and exposed his nipple Janet Jackson-style and he tried to cover himself and ran off in shame – that’s Dutch courage. (It – and I’m SO EMBARRASSED - turns out that he was talking about the shrimp boat at the party there, but at least I won that tussle) I don’t know if the saying “Dutch Courage” implies that the Dutch are drunkards or sober pansies. Perhaps both. Also, my Mom doesn’t like the phrase “Going Dutch.” Going Dutch is when I go on a date and refuse to pay for more than half the check and when my date argues about it or even just asks why I shout “I’m one quarter Dutch!” over and over with no other explanation until she wearily takes her wallet out. The phrase “Going Dutch” implies that the Dutch are cheap. There’s also something called a “Dutch Door.” I don’t really know what that is. I think it might be a screen door with a bunch of pigeon poop and feathers stuck in the screen. A Dutch Oven is like this really heavy cast iron pot with a lid that you can bury in campfire coals and bake stuff in. If it’s called a Dutch Oven, implying that only really cheap Dutch dudes bake bread in it over their hotplate because they’re too cheap to buy the part necessary to hook up the ricketty old stove in their ramshackle apartment to the gas, then I’m very offended!!! Brian 1:23 AM Comments: Post a Comment

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House of Noh!

Thursday, October 21, 2004

I just found my parents’ old Dutch Oven deep within the scariest room in the basement. It was covered with dust. I’m going to name it Dutchy, or Sir Cooks a lot, or Dutch Dutch the Crock Pot, or Dutchy McOven. I’m thinking that I’ll be able to set it on my hot plate in my apartment and bake my moutain man sourdough bread in it. Did you know that I was one quarter Dutch? My Grandma is full Dutch, she even knows Dutch. When we were little kids she taught us a swear word in Dutch. It sounded something like, “Lick My Fasse!” but it doesn’t have anything to do with any licking or any body part of the person cursing - that’s just a clumsy attempt at translating it with English. It’s Dutch! I think it means something like “Stick something of yours up something of yours, you fucking sick fucker, and go fuck yourself!” at least that’s how my Grandma explained it to me. I was quite young at the time and I found the translation upsetting, especially when my Grandma said it with feeling – if I remember right she had to take out her teeth (which is a totally rad) before I stopped crying. There’s actually a lot of phrases in English that belittle the Dutch. My mom (half Dutch) takes great umbrage when people talk about “Dutch Courage.” Dutch courage is when I do something that I normally wouldn’t, just because I’m drunk, like the time that guy kept saying that my beard was “too big” (I heard him say it numerous times, and quite clearly) from across the room so I went over to him and said some really hurtful things about him and grabbed big fistfuls of his shirt and then he grabbed fistfuls of my shirt and we pushed each other around and knocked those people’s drinks off their table until his shirt ripped and exposed his nipple Janet Jackson-style and he tried to cover himself and ran off in shame – that’s Dutch courage. (It – and I’m SO EMBARRASSED - turns out that he was talking about the shrimp boat at the party there, but at least I won that tussle) I don’t know if the saying “Dutch Courage” implies that the Dutch are drunkards or sober pansies. Perhaps both. Also, my Mom doesn’t like the phrase “Going Dutch.” Going Dutch is when I go on a date and refuse to pay for more than half the check and when my date argues about it or even just asks why I shout “I’m one quarter Dutch!” over and over with no other explanation until she wearily takes her wallet out. The phrase “Going Dutch” implies that the Dutch are cheap. There’s also something called a “Dutch Door.” I don’t really know what that is. I think it might be a screen door with a bunch of pigeon poop and feathers stuck in the screen. A Dutch Oven is like this really heavy cast iron pot with a lid that you can bury in campfire coals and bake stuff in. If it’s called a Dutch Oven, implying that only really cheap Dutch dudes bake bread in it over their hotplate because they’re too cheap to buy the part necessary to hook up the ricketty old stove in their ramshackle apartment to the gas, then I’m very offended!!!

Brian 1:23 AM

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House of Noh!

Thursday, October 21, 2004