Eleven days ago, I wrote a post called “Go Ham,” wherein I defined and riffed on an expressive term used by the fabulous Danise
from Mount Auburn Hospital Cardiac Rehab. I am now coining my own term
go bonkers (third-person singular simple present goes bonkers, present participle going bonkers, simple past went bonkers, past participle gone bonkers)
(informal) To lose one’s sanity.
We all knew he’d gone bonkers after he started speaking only gibberish.
(informal) To have a good time.
Everyone should just go bonkers at my next birthday party.
(go insane): go nuts, lose one’s marbles
(have fun): cut loose, go bananas, have a blast, have fun, let loose.)
Why “go bongos” today?
I thought you’d never ask.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been suggesting to my boyfriend Michael that we get his twin brother a pair of bongos for Christmas. Despite Michael telling me this was not a great idea, I kept going bongos over what a terrific present I thought that would be.
Also, I’m seeing a new cardiologist today and my current cardiologist(s) on Wednesday. I might go bongos when talking to them, as we try to figure out what the &*#!!@#!! is going on with my bongoin’ heart and cardiac pacemaker.
Before I go bongos any more in this post, I think it’s time for some music, don’t you? I shall not go bongos today by using “Let’s Go Crazy” by Prince, because I already bongo’d out with that in the aforementioned post 11 days ago.
I just searched YouTube for “bongos” and went bongos over this:
I wonder if that guy playing bongos to Santana‘s version of “Oye Como Va” is going bongos because he has OVER 232,000 VIEWS on YouTube. I wonder if my singing along to Pat Metheny’s “Third Wind” will ever get views like that!?
I’d definitely be going bongos if I believed that.
Here are some photos I took yesterday, as I was going bongos over my son playing the lead in a play in Arlington, Massachusetts, USA and during my walk around that town looking for bongos (among other things) before the play started):
That’s Alan Tauber, from Drum Connection, going bongos on an African drum and helping me go bongos too, literally, after we had a long and interesting conversation about cardiologists, general practitioners, psychotherapists, drums, the therapy groups I do, and several people we knew in common. How does one literally go bongos? By buying some bitchin’ bongos,* that’s how.
After I went bongos in these different ways, I went to the third showing of the absurdist play “Being Borrowed” that Aaron, among other talented teenagers, has been going bongos in all weekend. I hope it didn’t drive Aaron bongos that I was sitting up on stage — very close to his starring performance — this time.
Those last two photos don’t show my son (he’s the one going bongos with the red beard and no pants). That’s Aaron’s cousin Victoria as The King and Aaron’s friend Dan, who (1) bongo’d around the stage during a “Time Race” celebration, (2) played a box in the play, and (3) was going bongos when he, Aaron, and I went to see comedian Norm MacDonald Friday night.
A couple more things to go bongos over before I go bongos today with Danise, people at work, the new cardiologist, and a sleep specialist.
First, here’s a bumper sticker of somebody who is most definitely NOT going bongos:
Here’s some things Michael and I went bongos over, yesterday evening, at our local supermarket:
I think my mother would have gone bongos if she had lived to see the day there would be THAT MANY VARIETIES OF PAM (a cooking spray she really liked).
In conclusion, here’s Harley
our cat who goes bongos over most loud noises, like the doorbell. However, when I went bongos on these last night
Harley didn’t go bongos, at all.
Therefore, I’m keeping those bitchin’ bongos* FOR MYSELF. End of story.
Thanks to anybody who has ever gone bongos, in any way, at any point in their lives (including you, of course, since anybody who visits here makes me go bongos in the best sense of that made-up phrase).
* I’m calling these my bitchin’ bongos because sometimes I have trouble expressing anger and I’ve already found it VERY helpful and healing to accompany myself on the bongos while I’m bitching about (1) mixed messages from doctors, (2) not enough sleep, (3) tasks I don’t want to do, and (4) things I cannot control in the moment, like computer interface changes that are supposed to be “improvements” but actually make things more difficult for me.**
** All of which tend to make me go bongos.