Carlos-isms

First off, I must say, the first thing I liked about Carlos was his accent. I heard him speak before I'd even seen him, so the accent was my first clue. And his accent is odd and wonderful, and somewhat difficult to place. He was born and raised in Mexico so he has that Spanish-type accent, i.e. Vicks Vapor Rub becomes Bick Boppa Rue. But, his paternal grandfather was from England, so Carlos pronounces girlfriend as gullfriend.

I fell in love with that accent. Which is why I can tell these stories:

I'm painting the foyer in the house. It was a wacky shade of red, with blue slate floor tiles, and, well, it always looked a little too Fourth Of July. I mean, I'd burst into You're A Grand Old Flag whenever I went in there. So, I decided to paint it. I removed the furniture and the paintings and cleaned the walls. I looked for some Spackle to fill the nail holes, but alas my Spackle was as dried out as a Kathy Griffin peesh. I mentioned to Carlos that we needed some Spackle so I could fill the holes.

Later that day, as he was bathing the Pocket Dog, Carlos said, When I finish, I'll go to Lowe's and get the potty.

Potty?

The potty you said you wanted.

Potty?

You said we needed potty.

Potty?

For the walls in the foyer.

Oh!......................................................Putty.

That's what I said........Potty.

Over breakfast the next day I was telling Carlos about these two women, and their much younger, obviously gay, male friends, that I'd seen in Smallville. I was saying that a friend of mine had said that when a woman reaches a certain age and dates younger men, she is no longer a cougar, but rather a sabertooth tiger.

Carlos gave me that look that dogs give their owners when you say something odd. Head cocked to one side. Quizzical look in his eyes.

I paused and studied that look.

Cougars, I said.

I know.

Do know what I mean when I say cougars...like the TV show Cougar Town?

You mean the animal, right?

Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucy!

I Love Carlos: A Desilu Production

Carlos likes Oprah, and every time he says it, I invariably say, Oprah! I. Hate. Her!

And then he says, No, oprah, like Mozart and Puccini.

And I say, Oooooooh! Opera! Never mind.

Carlos also says, when someone he knows is making a mountain out of a mole hill, She's like a storm in a glass of water.

That one took a while, until I realized he meant Tempest in a teapot.

Makes sense.

So, this morning we're talking about Adam Lambert's shocking announcement that he's a flaming homosexual, but that he wants to be a singer and not a civil rights activist. I was telling Carlos my theory that every gay person that comes out is a civil rights activist because they're giving gay a face--not to be confused with gay face, Ryan Seacrest. I think the more people that come out, the less afraid people will be; and the less afraid, the less intolerant.

So, I was ranting about coming out and civil rights and all that and Carlos says, Well, he doesn't have to work with GLAAD to be an activist, or even with UCLA--

Huh? What? Huh?

UCLA?

Yes, he sneers at me as those I'm a wacky redhead and he's a Cuban bandleader. You, know UCLA, the people, the lawyers--

You mean the ACLU?

Whatever.

Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucy!