My mom came into the room when Finn was banging a wooden ball on a wooden box. She said, "Well, aren't you a playboy. Noisy little playboy."
The Noisy Little Playboy. I picture a 1950's Manhattan apartment scaled down to toddler size with the free jazz on the phonograph, and Finn with a little pencil mustache frying late night omelettes for a bevy of tiny martini-swilling dames. Meanwhile, Roger the very small accountant from upstairs is banging on the floor with a broomstick trying to get him to pipe down.
No can do, Rog.
Ladies? Camel me*.
A particularly raucous evening Chez Finn. The conga line snaked
directly to his pied-a-terre and they all decided to go for a world's record. Roger practically had a coronary.
*This is the new request Finn makes all the time. "Camel me." I love it. I don't really know what it means. It's camel, but it's more than camel. Show me a camel? Turn me into a camel? Hand me that camel? Is it like a high-five? Camel me. Oh, yeah. That's what I'm talking about.
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Hm, I seem to recall a time in the not-too-distant past when the phrase, "beer me" was frequently used to order another round of cold, frothy fermented malt beverages, but I think the expression has since gone into disuse.
The more relevent questions in this instance, however, might be: "can one have too many camels?" and "when does one know the point of too many camels has been reached?"
"Camel me" is a witty riposte often delivered The Noisy Little Playboy. The Martini Fames titter with glee whenever he says it although neither they nor he are sure if it's a punchline to a joke, an exclamation, or what. The somewhat bookish Martini Dame likes to think that it portends a latent interest The Noisy Little Playboy has in Egyptology, an interest she herself shares -- perhaps it's a way to get The Noisy Little Playboy all to herself! But to attempt to open a discussion on the subject is too risky, she could be thrown out of the circle entirely. Patience, she tells herself in a forlorn and almost weepy whisper, patience.
"I learned that handy little phrase during my stint in the French Foreign Legion, and let me tell you it turned out to be a real lifesaver. But I can see you don't want to hear another of my stories..."
"Tell, tell! Oh, Finn, you're such a man of the world. Is there no end to the adventures you've had? Sigh..."
"Well, alright ladies, if you insist. Our story begins, as they all do, with me banging a wooden ball on a wooden box. But this box happened to be -- in Algiers!"
Oh, man. That was a great post followed by hilarious comments. Camel me, again.
I'm with you, Dup. I adore all of your riffs on the Noisy Little Playboy. Brilliant!
I want there now to be a whole...how you say...oeuvre of Noisy Little Playboy scenarios.
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