HelloHello x Two
After two years of owning two t-shirts that say the EXACT same thing in different languages, I've finally realized: I OWN TWO T-SHORTS THAT SAY THE EXACT SAME THING IN DIFFERENT LANGUAGES!! What's wrong with me?
I mean, I understand enough Italian to know that "Ciao" means "Hello." Heck, I know enough Italian to know that "Ciao" also means "Bye."
More importantly, who needs TWO t-shirts that say, "Hello! Hello!" In my personal expereince (obviously, doublely more than I was aware before) wearing such as phrase on a t-shirt is just an invitation for some smartass to say, "HELLO! HELLO!" all up in my face. Like you are soooo clever and NO ONE has ever done THAT before.
Hmph!
But, seriously HOW have I not realized—in two years—that I own TWO shirts that say the same thing? Two shirts. Same whitty message.
The only conclusion I can gather: The shirts have VERY different histories.
I acquired "Ciao Ciaco" during my Thanksgiving trip with Sable to Firenze! to visit LoLo (sniff, just realized all those images are gone, particularly the one with me and EIGHT Italians guys, stupid computer). This shirt is the STAPLE of the tourist bartering expereince in Florence. It only costs € 5, but I was buying five and I actually convined the ragazzi to give me ALL FIVE for ONLY € 20! Woot!
"Hello. Hello." Now this is a story. Coach Caroline made me this shirt in the Summer of 2004, because I did something silly, so she immoralized it on a shirt thanks to Ali at Le T-Shirt (who wants her to marry his son, but if he wasn't married himself, he'd probably be trying to get her to marry himself...).
During that summer I discovered that being the CRAZIEST person on the planet held the attention span of 5- to 8-year-olds for 2 minute spurts. So, the whole summer, "Coach Bridget, you are sooo WEIRD!"
One Wednesday night meet, Coach Caroline is talking to the coach of the other team, Coach Brad (Coach Patrick later discovered his name). I catch a glimpse of Coach Brad and decide that he's cute, (later, I decide he's not). They finish talking, she walks over to me, I assume he's gone and out of earshot when when I gush: "Heeel-LO! Heeel-LO!" I turn and right there is Coach Brad.
Smooooth!
At the All Star Meet, my fellow coaches dared to go up to him and say, "Coach Brad! Hello! Hello!" Caroline even said she'd buy my lunch. I was too humiliated.
****
I was thinking about how that summer turn me into a Wild and Crazy Guy, er, girl, after which I really could no longer take my self seriously...
For example, senior year I went on spring break in Jamaica that the DJ taglined: "Sex, Drugs, and JERK CHICKEN!" The night before I come down with bronchitis (diagonosed as pneumonia the next week) everyone is dancing on the beach all MTV-spring-break and I'm dancing all goofy. It's spring break. It's Jamaica. And I just can't bring myself to celebrate "Sex, Drugs, and JERK CHICKEN!" through my dancing because everyone seems ready lick the person next to him or her that I feel like I could just stand there and get hit on, so why should I even shake my booty, espcially when there's some crazy girl shaking her ass in a pink skirt.... Oh my, was that a butt check?
Anyway, whether or not standing around like a bump on a log would have enticed the boys, I'll never know. The next day I woke up shaking uncontrollably thinking it was the craziest hang over ever, until I went to the clinic and they told me that I had a fever of 104.
So, I'm walking back from the clinic, still shaking uncontrollably, and someone starts yelling at me, "Hello! Hello!"
I'm sick! Pervert!
"Hello! Hello!"
oh. damn shirt.
"hi."
I mean, I understand enough Italian to know that "Ciao" means "Hello." Heck, I know enough Italian to know that "Ciao" also means "Bye."
More importantly, who needs TWO t-shirts that say, "Hello! Hello!" In my personal expereince (obviously, doublely more than I was aware before) wearing such as phrase on a t-shirt is just an invitation for some smartass to say, "HELLO! HELLO!" all up in my face. Like you are soooo clever and NO ONE has ever done THAT before.
Hmph!
But, seriously HOW have I not realized—in two years—that I own TWO shirts that say the same thing? Two shirts. Same whitty message.
The only conclusion I can gather: The shirts have VERY different histories.
I acquired "Ciao Ciaco" during my Thanksgiving trip with Sable to Firenze! to visit LoLo (sniff, just realized all those images are gone, particularly the one with me and EIGHT Italians guys, stupid computer). This shirt is the STAPLE of the tourist bartering expereince in Florence. It only costs € 5, but I was buying five and I actually convined the ragazzi to give me ALL FIVE for ONLY € 20! Woot!
"Hello. Hello." Now this is a story. Coach Caroline made me this shirt in the Summer of 2004, because I did something silly, so she immoralized it on a shirt thanks to Ali at Le T-Shirt (who wants her to marry his son, but if he wasn't married himself, he'd probably be trying to get her to marry himself...).
During that summer I discovered that being the CRAZIEST person on the planet held the attention span of 5- to 8-year-olds for 2 minute spurts. So, the whole summer, "Coach Bridget, you are sooo WEIRD!"
One Wednesday night meet, Coach Caroline is talking to the coach of the other team, Coach Brad (Coach Patrick later discovered his name). I catch a glimpse of Coach Brad and decide that he's cute, (later, I decide he's not). They finish talking, she walks over to me, I assume he's gone and out of earshot when when I gush: "Heeel-LO! Heeel-LO!" I turn and right there is Coach Brad.
Smooooth!
At the All Star Meet, my fellow coaches dared to go up to him and say, "Coach Brad! Hello! Hello!" Caroline even said she'd buy my lunch. I was too humiliated.
****
I was thinking about how that summer turn me into a Wild and Crazy Guy, er, girl, after which I really could no longer take my self seriously...
For example, senior year I went on spring break in Jamaica that the DJ taglined: "Sex, Drugs, and JERK CHICKEN!" The night before I come down with bronchitis (diagonosed as pneumonia the next week) everyone is dancing on the beach all MTV-spring-break and I'm dancing all goofy. It's spring break. It's Jamaica. And I just can't bring myself to celebrate "Sex, Drugs, and JERK CHICKEN!" through my dancing because everyone seems ready lick the person next to him or her that I feel like I could just stand there and get hit on, so why should I even shake my booty, espcially when there's some crazy girl shaking her ass in a pink skirt.... Oh my, was that a butt check?
Anyway, whether or not standing around like a bump on a log would have enticed the boys, I'll never know. The next day I woke up shaking uncontrollably thinking it was the craziest hang over ever, until I went to the clinic and they told me that I had a fever of 104.
So, I'm walking back from the clinic, still shaking uncontrollably, and someone starts yelling at me, "Hello! Hello!"
I'm sick! Pervert!
"Hello! Hello!"
oh. damn shirt.
"hi."
posted by flynn at 10:54 PM
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