This sign marks the exit to my new home. For real, y'all.
I know. Putnam Cottage? Disgusting.
The Mianus is actually a river that cuts through the city to the west of me, with a little neighborhood named after it. It’s pronounced mayanus, with a nice schwa sound on the second syllable. But of course, I like to pronounce it in the most vulgar way possible, drawling out the syllables in an obnoxious fashion that gives my voice the same diamond cutting edge of the character Janice from Friends, years back. And when I’m out driving with family, I like to use it in sentences like:
“If you want to visit, you know you’re close when you can see Mianus!”
“I’m glad they’ve built a really big on-ramp to Mianus!”
Or, at night,
“It’s kind of hard to see around Mianus, it’s so dark and gloomy.”
Because it’s a river, there are magnificent opportunities for gems like,
“Man, Mianus is wet tonight.”
“I think there’s some kind of fungus blooming on Mianus. It really STINKS.”
In the last couple of days, I’ve hit on another motherlode of potty humor. Whenever someone (not me) farts (never me), I’ll look around innocently, “Must be ducks from Mianus.”
Um, did I say that I looked around innocently? I must’ve meant someone else. Because I don’t fart.
(Note: I haven’t actually done this in front of any native people from the state. I have heard they tend to be touchy about it. The Mianus jokes, I mean. Not the farting.)
Oh, Connecticut. How you appeal to my inner third-grader.