I’ve started censoring myself.
And not in the way perhaps my sister should censor herself. No, I’ve started cutting out some very basic language from my everyday conversations with her. Why? Because these words all somehow manage to circle back around to her “earthiness” and the “earthy” things she wants to do with Chansung.
Here is the list of words I now mysteriously avoid:
Banana
Nostril
Nose
Body
Bed
Sleep
Banana
Chicken
Bone
Ice cream
Banana
Food
Love
Down
House
Banana
Chainsaw
Ruminant
Onomatopoeia
Chrysanthemum
Banana
The
And
I
A
The list grows daily. She recently texted and asked what kind of ice cream I got when I went out with some friends. I froze in terror. Sweet mother! What possessed me to get BANANA ice cream? What do I say? Do I shrug? Do I facepalm? Do I say nothing? Do I throw my phone out the window and claim it on my pointless iPhone insurance?? Help me, merciful text gods of silence!
Maybe I lie…
It was chocolate. “Mmmmmm, ChannyChocolate…”
It was neapolitan. “Mmmmmmm, menage toi with me, Chansung and ice cream…”
It was Rocky Road. “Mmmmmmm, we could rock that road…”
It was Superman. “Mmmmmm, I know who my super man is…”
It was Butter Pecan. “Mmmmmm, he can butter my pecans.” [WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!]
It was pistachio. “Mmmmmm, [insert nut joke that I’m not “earthy” enough to come up with on my own]…”
From now on I’m sticking to flan. “Mmmmmm….ChanFlan…”
I give up.
Pass the spoon and get me a pint of Pure Yuzu Sorbet…