Esus-jay Oesn’t-day Ove-lay Ore-(w)h-ays!

When I in elementary school, there were two neighbors I would play with every day. They were both older than me, but they were the best friends that I had in the neighborhood.
Jimm-ay and RhymesWithFonda. We would play everything from hide and seek to secret sex games that I did not KNOW were sex games because I had parents who didn’t tell me what sex was because did you know you can get pregnant just by “standing to close to a boy?” SWEAR TO NOT GOD BECAUSE SWEARING TO GOD IS A SIN! One thing we loved to do was skate in RhymesWithFonda’s driveway. She had The Perfect Driveway for skating. No gravel, or cracks. Just a smooth cement with awesome downward slant.
The fact that Jimm-ay and RhymesWithFonda were older than me created some problems. There was talk of sex that made me uncomfortable and sometimes made me cry because “I DON’T KNOW WHAT HUMPING IS BUT MY MOM AND DAD TOTALLY DON’T DO IT! LIARS!” Which of course led to “inside jokes” that made me feel bad about myself because they’d walk around telling their inside jokes and I’d laugh along and then RhymesWithFonda would be all “You don’t even know what it means so why are you laughing?” And I’d be all “Well, at least I’m going to heaven!” Because that was pretty much my comeback for everything when I was 8.
There was one summer in particular where I pretty much spent every day in RhymesWithFonda’s driveway. I remember one of those days as if it happened yesterday. Jimmy and RhymesWithFonda were outside skating and laughing louder than usual. I, of course, felt jealous and sad that they hadn’t come over and asked me to play. I laced up my skates and raced outside to join them. As I skated up the driveway, I said “Hi, guys! Can I play?”
“We don’t care.” RhymesWithFonda snapped back.
And then, then, it started.
All of this strange jibber jabber which I did not understand. Jimm-ay would say something and RhymesWithFonda would laugh and laugh. Then she’d say something back to him and he’d laugh and laugh.
“What are you guys saying?” I asked, feeling a little bit panicked inside.
“None of your business” they shot back.
And it went on and on.
They’d say these crazy, weird words and laugh. Sometimes they’d laugh while looking and pointing at me, other times while their backs were turned to me.
I begged them to stop.
“If you don’t like it, you can leave!” Jimm-ay shouted.
So, I left.
And went straight to Jimm-ays house to tattle.
I’ll never forget what his mom did for me. She didn’t turn me away. She didn’t tell me to quit being a crybaby. No. Instead, she invited me into her house, sat me on the sofa and listened to what I had to say.
“Oh, I see.” she said. “They’re speaking Pig Latin so that you can’t understand what they’re saying. That’s not very nice of them.”
But her kindness didn’t end there. Oh no it didn’t. She went and got one of those little personal chalkboards, a box of chalk and said “I’m going to teach you Pig Latin so they can’t talk about you anymore. Don’t tell them I taught you, we’ll surprise them.”
We sat there on her sofa for what seemed like hours while she drew on that little chalkboard and explained Pig Latin to me. Once she felt like I understood, she told me to go back out there and play with them again. “And if they say anything, just repeat what they said in English! They’ll never do it again!”
I couldn’t get to RhymesWithFonda’s house fast enough. As soon as I rolled up on them, they started with the Pig Latin.
I listened for a bit as they talked about me. Oh, how they laughed! And oh, how I laughed right along with them.
“You don’t even know what’s funny!” RhymesWithRhonda said.
“Yes I do! I know everything you just said!”
“DO NOT!”
“I-ay o-day oo-tay!”
Oh Snap.
Victory was mine! For that day, at least. Of course, they figured out other ways to leave me out. And I learned very quickly that Jimm-ays Mom couldn’t solve my problems for me every time. I learned that not everyone was going to like me all of the time and that the trick was to not let them know you cared and save your tears for your pillow. And for Jesus.
There was a point to this story. Something about how sometimes I feel left out of the Inside Joke of Life (or, you know, BLOGGING.), but honestly, I don’t care much to go into all of that because it’s Very Emotional for me and Wah! I didn’t graduate from college because my parents taught me it was God’s Will to get married at 19 and who needs college when you have Jesus and a Uterus?!
Or SOMETHING? BECAUSE OH MY GOD I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THIS BUT NOW YOU KNOW THE STORY OF HOW I LEARNED PIG LATIN. UCKY-LAY OU-YAY!

28 thoughts on “Esus-jay Oesn’t-day Ove-lay Ore-(w)h-ays!

  1. Sticky

    I love this story!
    I wish more pople were like Jimm-ay’s mom. The world would be a much better place.
    Thanks for sharing – this was wonderful…”at least I’m going to heaven” *snort*

    Reply
  2. Karen Sugarpants

    It took me 5 whole minutes to fingure out your post title isn’t “Jesus Doesn’t Love Oreos” and I couldn’t figure out why you would name your post that. But now I want an Oreo really bad.
    Jimm-ay’s Mom rocks. I hate feeling left out, even though I’m 34 and shouldn’t be so stupid about stuff like that, I am sometimes. Especially now that I’m having a hormonal crappy pity party over Mother’s Day and jonesing for Oreos. lol!

    Reply
  3. DogsDontPurr

    OMG….pig latin! My Dad and I used to drive my sister and Mom nuts with pig latin. Even though they new how it worked, my Dad and I were so down with it that they could barely keep up. Ah, the good ole days!

    Reply
  4. Mary Jo

    I always felt that way with some of my friends, and now as an adult I feel the same way around bloggers. I’m here, I read, I comment… but I’m just off the radar.

    Reply
  5. Amber

    You would totally be in my friend in real life. I know how you feel though. My sis just says I’m a little sensitive. SO! It still hurts my feelings!
    Off to find an Oreo. Or wine… Or both.

    Reply
  6. Hel

    I still can’t understand pig latin. It took me 5 minutes to read your title. I was REALLY hoping that you didn’t to the whole post in pig latin, then I would have been really sad.
    I got the whore part though.
    I’m pretty sure there is NO inside joke to my life. It’s just one big joke that everyone can see.

    Reply
  7. Karen

    I’ve never gotten the impression you were left out of the Inside Joke of Life from your blogs–quite the opposite. It’s a great story. There will always be those who try to exclude, and yet you’ve risen above that and share insightful and humorous blogs on a regular basis. Who got the last laugh? My bets are not on RhymeswithFonda and Jimm-ay.

    Reply
  8. Wacky Mommy

    Thank Jeebus right now that the whole marriage thing was “a go” because damn. You could be cougar-ing it right now.
    We did zoom talk, soooooooo much fancier. Just put an “ib” in there. “H-ib-ow a-ib-re y-ib-ou?”

    Reply
  9. Marcy

    Mean People suck at any age…
    Sometimes……It still makes me want to punch em in the Baby box… Not very mature… I know..but hey
    Tough Titty said the kitty..

    Reply
  10. sam {temptingmama}

    I was fluent in pig latin for years. I was Teh Awesome. LOL Now? I think I have to say the word about for times before I realize what it is.
    Your story made me sad because I remember so well what that feeling was like when kids were intentionally cruel like that. *sigh*
    Iay ove-lay ou-yay.

    Reply
  11. elizabethk

    I won’t give my age, but I have been thinking (praying) on this a lot because OF my age. By the time I got to this point I thought I wouldn’t give a shit about what anyONE thought (or didn’t bother thinking) of me. I DO NOT want to be in the IN group, never, ever did – but in everyday life, sometimes I just give people to much power, ya know? Even sometimes – my husband…in that I need to know I am LOVED (yes, by Jesus ;-)) and be okay and secure in just that. I don’t need anyone’s approval! NOR do you!
    I think I have a heart big enough to consider others, and to not leave people out…even in the internet world there are people who comment about being left out, and then never comment back if someone comments to them. HUH? Doing exactly what they are whining about! (not meaning you!) Thinking about flickr – atm…
    Hugs – you rawk!

    Reply
  12. Bill

    I can’t imagine how you’d feel left out of the Inside Joke, because you’re one of the funniest bloggers I “know.” This post was great, as usual!
    I love what I think the original title was, too…(based on your permalink).

    Reply
  13. JenniferB

    I’m pretty sure I was on the outside always looking in as a kid, teenager, and now, still feel that way a lot. The one thing that gets me through? My kids think I’m cool. ;) You are cool and I’m so glad you are here!

    Reply
  14. Nina

    Oreos vs. Whores! Love the comments.
    I don’t think there is an inside joke of blogging, unless the act of blogging itself is it’s own inside joke. Or something. I just carry on as I please and don’t worry too much about the audience. Who is considered cool and who isn’t is fairly arbitrary – you’ll always be somebody’s hero.
    Are you going to BlogHer in July?

    Reply
  15. keri

    in my short time here on earth, ive finally finally* come to the relization that we *all* feel left out in some capacity or another, some of us are just way better about hiding it, but its still nice read stories like this and feel that warm feeling of being able to relate
    *even tho i do realize this, at times the feeling of being left out, still has the ability to reduce to me a big puddle of bawling

    Reply
  16. Rachel

    Ok I have not even finished the post, but once I figured out what the titled was (first time I was too lazy to translate the pig latin…) I DIED LAUGHING. Ok, not really dead…but I had to stop and post and thank you for the laughs! Today…and most days. Now, back to the rest of the post…

    Reply
  17. Kyla

    I don’t know when I learned pig latin, but I get the whole being left out thing. AND I got married at 17, so we can start our own club. How’s that? ;)

    Reply
  18. Veronica

    I don’t know Yvonne. I think you’re alluding to the fact that you may feel inferior to other more “educated” and “worldly” bloggers but I, for one, love your blog the most because you speak my language. Your humor is infectious, your issues are real and I can relate…to everything. You make everyone feel included.

    Reply
  19. patois

    I’m impressed that you’ve retained the language. My Pig Latin has gone the way of my four years of high school and college Spanish.

    Reply

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