It’s fair to say my husband has a colourful turn of phrase. The other night as we were going to sleep, I asked him how his latest case of “the runs” was progressing.
“It’s okay. At least it’s not like Niagra Falls down there any more,” he said, referring to that delightful ‘pure liquid stage’ of diarrhea.
“What? Did you climb up a ladder and shit into the toilet bowl from on high?” I asked, somewhat bewildered.
“Yes, with tourists taking photos and a guy in a barrel going over the top,” he said, and we both lay in the dark and thought about that image for a while.
Eventually, I broke the silence.
“Did you ever notice that Niagra rhymes with Viagra?” I remarked. “Do you think that’s on purpose? You know, because taking Viagra helps you relive the honeymoon of your youth?”
“I think it’s to help people to remember what to ask for at the pharmacy,” my husband said. “All they have to remember is ‘Niagra falls, Viagra rises’.'”
“‘Niagra falls, Viagra rises’,” I repeated. “Is that a pnuemonic like ‘Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight’?”
“Yes, but it’s not a pneumonic, it’s a mnemonic.”
Stupid mnemonic. I always get it confused with pneumonic. Ironically, there doesn’t appear to be a mnemonic to help you remember which is which. You know, something like “M and N help out your tongue whereas P and N put liquid in your lung.” And no, I’m not planning on quitting my day job and becoming a full-time mnemonic writer any time soon.
“Pneumonic, mnemonic… Whatevs!” I concluded. “Back in the day, we used to have our own mnemonic at work for a guy called John. We used to say ‘Red sky at night, John will take a sickie. Red sky in the morning, John will also take a sickie.'”
“Uh huh…” my husband yawned.
“Also, that ‘Spring Forward, Fall Back’ always fucks me up,” I continued. “It’s supposed to help you understand daylight savings and all but it doesn’t work for me because I tend to fall forwards – you know, when I trip over something while drunk. And I spring backwards – you know, in horror, when I find something unspeakably horrible at the bottom the vegetable crisper. Anyone who springs forward into something like that is sick and needs help. As for falling backwards, that’s not falling: YOU WERE PUSHED,”
“Uh, okay,” said my husband, who was trying to go to sleep and no doubt wondering how a conversation about his bowel movements had so quickly turned into a conversation into someone being drunk and being pushed into the vegetable crisper.
It’s hard to say, really.