#32 - Yeah Right

“Yeah right.” Then there’s a short pause. “What’re you doing?” This is how my girlfriend communicates. “I’m sitting here on the couch reading while you do stuff on your laptop,” I respond. The question was code. What’s really being said is that she’s now ready to move on to something else that involves me. She uses Yeah Right a lot.

And it can mean just about anything. It’s one of those umbrella phrases, which makes sense. She’s from Seattle where they also call an umbrella a bumbershoot. They have a music festival of the same name, otherwise who in the world would’ve known.

She had a lot of roommates in a party house when we first started hanging out, all in various local rock bands. And you could pretty much count on some sort of throw down on a nightly basis resulting in curtain closed mornings with bodies scattered amongst the bong ashes and dead soldiers stacked like terracotta warriors on anything with 4 legs except for maybe Rocky the horny Pitbull.

I recall a plastic canoe one time serving as a living room bed, appropriately christened Yeah Right on the stern with a black Sharpie. You knew someone was awake when the words Yeah Right haphazardly replaced the sound of snoring.

The WiFi code was Yeah Right.

It’s very easy to buy gifts for her on Christmas and birthdays. She has a Yeah Right tank top, a Yeah Right hoodie and a Yeah Right license plate frame. I’ll catch her staring at me sometimes like a cat. Maybe she’s hungry, maybe she’s frisky, maybe she wants to go outside. She’ll say, “Yeah Right”, the human equivalent to a meow.

“Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to cherish in sickness and in health?”

“Yeah Right.”