Yeah, well the words that blunder out of my mouth are pretty wobbly, too. I committed another verbal faux pas the other day. Nothing major, just me using my old upstate New York terminology as opposed to the local nomenclature. Typical haole.

I went to K-Mart to purchase one of those gas-powered grass cutters that you hold and it has the nylon string that whizzes around real fast. You know that thing where you have to wear safety glasses and long pants. On Guam, I think there is a law that says if you are operating one of these things, you HAVE to wear camouflaged Army pants. Anyway, I walked up to these two male employees and asked, "Could you tell me where the weed whackers are?"

As if scripted, they turned and looked at each other with some confused expressions, complete with wrinkled brows. One finally turned to me and said, "Where what is?"

Now, they're kind of smiling. I repeated myself. "Where are the weed whackers?"

I guess they just wanted to be sure they heard me correctly the first time before they laughed in a customer's face. They simultaneously did that blurt laugh (where your lips wobble real fast and a little spit sprays out), followed by a lame attempt to pretend they were just clearing their throats. After the giggles stopped, one asked again, "What are you looking for?"

(Okay. No way am I saying weed whacker again unless I have safety spit-spray glasses on and a little surgical mask of some sort. So, I tried to think of what to call these things. Bingo - Weed Eaters.)

"You know. Weed Eaters." Blurt, spit, hearty laugh, with no attempt to even bother with the throat clearing thing-a-ma-jig. Between laughs, one of them managed to get out, "I suppose you're going to ask us where the brownie mix is next." Blurt, laugh, high fives. (I think they were out of spit at this point.)

It was only now that I realized I was not using the correct vocabulary here. So I resorted to pantomime and described all the parts.

"OOHHHH, a Bush Cutter," they declared.

I wanted to blurt and spit but it was two against one and I think their salivary glands had recovered. Well, we shared a few laughs and they got a towel for my face. I explained that, where I come from, we (or maybe its just me...I don't know what I know anymore) call them weed whackers or weed eaters...don't we? And why bush cutters? You don't use them on bushes. More weeds than bushes are killed every year from these whirling string rotisseries. If anything, people here should call them boonie cutters.

The whole incident reminded me of my college days when I lived in a house off campus with two guys from the Buffalo area and two from Lawwwng Island. They - the Lawwwng Islanders - used to make fun of my vocabulary: pop (soda), pizza (pie), and sub (hero or hoagie). There were other examples, but I am hungry right now and that was all I could come up with.

All in all, it was yet another learning experience for me. But I was not out of the woods just yet, anxious readers. I proceeded to the check out and placed my new bush cutter on the counter and started for my wallet, when the cashier dropped the bomb on me. "Do you own a pair of camouflage pants?"

You've got to be kidding me. I looked at her with a puzzled expression - something I picked up from the spittal twins back in the Home and Garden department. I replied, "A pair of what?" (Ha! Two can play at this game.)

She said, "You know - Army camouflage pants." She was too nice for the blurt and spit laugh, so I chuckled and said, "OOHHH, you mean invisible vegetation pants. Yes, yes, I have a pair." I guess she didn't think I was too nice for the blurt and spit laugh. She apologized and handed me a Kleenex along with my receipt.

Hafa Adai

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