remainchampagne:

I cannot stop watching this.  It is so fuckin’ weird.  I’m gonna try to transcribe it for ya as well.  Here goes:

“Well, a very, very, heavay, uh, heavay dur—burtation tonight.  We had a very daris—darison—by—let’s go ahead and taris tayson lossin gettta tapik.”

I’m sure people in Finland know exactly what she’s talking about.

Okay:  Her first five words are good, even though she mispronounces the word “heavy.”  But after that, let’s see if we can figure out what she meant to say.  What could she have possibly intended by “dur—burtation.”  It’s like: You’re already fuckin’ up big time; you gotta also make the “dur” sound too?  That’s the sound we used to make as little kids when we were goofing on someone dumb.  “DUUURRR!”  And what the hell was “burtation” supposed to be?  What word was she trying to say?  Rotation?  Oh!  Heavy rotation maybe?  No idea.  The next part sounds like she wants to say: “We had a very—dare I say—“ but instead of “dare I say,” she goes: “darison.”  And that’s when it gets weird because you can see the look of sorrow on her face as she begins to realize she is no longer in control of her mouth: there’s that sobby, desperate look of dread to a point off camera, as if there’s someone or something over there that can get her out of this.  It’s almost as if she pays a monthly speech bill and didn’t get this month’s payment in and is slowly realizing—on live television, in mid-sentence—that they’re shutting down her mouth.  I mean, she doesn’t even say “Sorry.”  And everything after “let’s go ahead” is completely indecipherable.  She probably meant to say: “Let’s go ahead and forget this ever happened.” I know what she’s thinking.  She was thinking: “Okay, I’ve already said a bunch of stuff that doesn’t make any sense.  I’ll just keep spouting gobbledly gook for the rest of this sentence and maybe no one will notice.  You know.  ‘Cause I’ll be consistent.”

“Taris Tayson Lossin Gettta Tapik.”  Sound like a hockey team from Helsinki.

The best thing about this footage is that the director knew exactly when to cut away from her and go to the clip.  It did not matter what she said.  She could’ve said anything—and did!—and the director knew exactly what to do.  Which just goes to show: You can be a model in a trench coat with a mike, utter complete nonsense for ten seconds, and it.  Will.   Absolutely.  Not.  Matter.

(By the way: My Spellcheck loved this post.)

I remain

Champagne