She: “What’cha working on?”
He: “Sea lettuce.”
She: “Where? And what are you doing eating at your desk anyway? Don’t I feed you enough?”
He: “No, love, not ‘see lettuce, bring your glasses’. ‘Sea lettuce, bring your bathing suit.’ It’s a kind of seaweed.”
“A nickel bag, dude? For us? Gnarl…”
“Dude! Shut up!!”
You jokers never learn, do you?
She: “Who are you talking to?!?”
He: “Me, myself, and I. If you’d been working on this sea lettuce report as long as I have, you’d probably be talking to yourself too.”
She: “No, there’s only one of me. If I desire conversation, I go looking for real people.”
He: “Oh, so you’d like to go fishing. Why didn’t you just say so?”
She: “Don’t make me regret reeling you in. You and your imaginary friends.”
He: “What imaginary friends?!?”
She: “The ones that pop up when you stay up all night writing reports and don’t get any sleep. What’s this all about?”
He: “You remember the Olympics in Beijing last year?”
She: “Wasn’t that when Michael Phelps was winning all those gold medals, swimming?”
“And smokin’ too, dude.”
That was later.
She: “What was later?”
He: “The cleanup. Actually, it was earlier, before the Olympics. Just hope Phelps knew how lucky he was, not having to swim outdoors.”
She: “Because why?”
He: “Because of the sea lettuce.”
She: “I sure hope he didn’t do any more than look at it. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to go into the water until at least half an hour after you eat!”
He: “Trust me, neither he nor anyone else wanted to see it, never mind eat it. All they wanted to do was get rid of it.”
She: “Ewww …”
“Ewww …”
“Ewww …”
She: “Echoes?”
He: “Yeah. ‘Cause it all happened again this summer. In France and in Seattle. Stuff piles up on the beaches and really makes a wrack of things.”
“Party down, dude! Hit the beach and get wracked!”
“Stop yelling, dude! You’ll make yourself hoarse.”
Yeah. A dead horse.
She: “Is it my turn yet?”
He: “They don’t eat sea lettuce.”
She: “Who don’t?”
He: “The terns, of course.”
She: “Well, I won’t be eating any, that’s for sure.”
He: “Why not?”
She: “You think I want a toxic waist? Leave that report and come to bed. If those imaginary friends of yours have any consideration, they’ll finish it for you while you’re asleep.”
“Finish the report, she says. How the hell’re we supposed to do that, dude?”
“I dunno, dude. Furniture polish?”
– O Ceallaigh
Copyright © 2009 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.
All opinions are mine as a private citizen.
As a big fan of Murphy’s Oil Soap, I hope that helps with sea lettuce.
Doug — I like Murphy’s Oil Soap myself. I wonder if it works on Dudes?
That’ll give us a clean grant proposal, Dawg. But will that be enough to get the money?
I’m afraid not even mouth cleansing will work to quiet these guys, Q.
Have you ever eaten LIMU? It is seasoned seaweed and is sold at the seafood deli counter in supermarkets. I love the stuff.
Gigi — yes, we’ve eaten and enjoy Limu. Once, at a Waikiki restaurant, Amoeba took out his hand lens (magnifying glass) and gave his limu such a thorough looking over (all for science) that waitress came to inquire. When Amoeba explained there was no problem, but that he studies seaweed and would like to know where this was harvested, the waitress went and got the cook. We finished our meal with the waitress, the cook and the restaurant owner sitting at our table talking limu and declining harvests and the old gathering traditions (take what you need) vs. the new (take everything in sight).
Gigi, I can’t claim the knowledge of a native, but in a scientific sense, Limu R Us. We have limu lu‘au growing in the lab, and are trying to figure out which of several different things is the true limu ‘ele‘ele – which was one of the limu we were talking about in that (now defunct) restaurant.