Friday Morning Latin Lesson, Vol. LXIV

So, you all know that the historic buildings and lovely gardens weren't the only sights I was checking out while in Charleston, right?

It started out simple and innocent enough. I was sitting in the church before the ceremony, trying to entertain a hungry five-year-old who was getting squirrely. The inside of the church was lovely, filled with beautiful stained glass, a very intricate fan-vaulted ceiling, and some nice decorative splashes here and there throughout the church.

I was beginning to get a little disappointed that the only younger people attending the wedding were my wife's brother and sister and their families, and my wife's cousins.

And then my wife's cousin's...uh...wife's...college friends started to show up. I looked up and noticed this girl in a green dress come and sit down in the pew opposite me. Well, I didn't notice her so much as I noticed that she was threatening to voluptuously spill out of her dress. I was suddenly like, "I'm sorry, is there a wedding going on around your breasts? Let me clear that away for them."

Hey...is it cold in here, or did my wife just read that?

Anyway, I was distracted by her for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening. While she was the most impressive of the host of my wife's cousin's wife's friends (that's becoming a mouthful to say...), there were a number of attractive lasses in attendance. There was another redheaded girl who paled in comparison to my lovely wife, and there was a girl with some strange...felt...velvet...flower thing...in her hair. And then there was a friend of my wife's from high school, who looked like Katie Holmes...but taller, hotter and a lot less crazy.

Damn, it is getting cold in here...

There was another woman who had a very nice body, and she was wearing a black lace doily with a nude-colored slip underneath it. As she was dancing, she lost track of how the slip was folded up under her body, and I looked over once and I was like "Whoa...I can see your butt..." And, she wandered around, blissfully unaware of the show she was giving us, and she walked past me and I wanted to say something. However, I didn't know how to approach someone I didn't know in order to tell her that her ass was exposed to the rest of the world. In the end, I felt like not getting slapped and let her go on her blissful way.

So, anyway, thanks to the wonderful sights of Charleston, I was thinking this little phrase time and time again:

Mammae in Carolopole magnificae sunt.
Pronounced: "Mah-my in Car-oh-loh-poh-lay mahg-nee-fee-kie soont."

Sumptuous translation in the hovertext.

On Sunday, as we were walking around, my wife and I passed an antique store that had a display of door knockers in the window. My wife spun around and, with wonder in her voice, loudly implored "Look at those knockers!"

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, I had a shit-eating grin on my face. Again, she spun and, waving a finger threateningly in my face, said, "Not a word out of you."

Ignoring her, I said, "I've been looking at knockers since yesterday afternoon."

At first, she cocked an eyebrow, and I responded with "The girl in the green dress was really impressive." She shook her head, sighed and turned back around...to look at those knockers.

And for those concerned, "Carolopolis" is the "official" Latin translation for Charleston, at least as far as the Charleston Preservation Society is concerned. And this site, too.