Wednesday, November 15, 2006

What Hump?

Have you ever had one of these moments? I have. Several times. I have put my foot in my mouth so many times that I can, blindfolded, tell you when shoe was made and what it has stepped in, just by smelling it.

" Hmmm. 1984, Converse, 3-day old Coke, Bazooka Gum and faint Weiner Dog poo. Good year, Good year. Comfie. I recommend it. Yessss."

[a small crowd of onlookers gasp in amazement]

“Wow mommy that man really must chew a lot of yucky shoes.” A young girl with curly hair observes.

“Yes dear, lets run along now before he insults us…”

My personal favorite "What Hump" moment was when I asked my amazing-Jazz-musician-friend if it ever made him angry that people associate instrumental Jazz with K-mart, Musak, or music on the overhead at the Western Sizzler. He just looked at me with a furrowed brow...

"What…what do you mean..."

A brief moment of silence followed.

Speechless, with nowhere to turn except into a deep, dark tunnel of awkwardness, I simply cocked my head slightly to the right and said...

"Is that a helicopter flying over us?... Must be a wreck or something... Hey, I'm hungry."

This tactic only worked because this person that I had begun to insult was plagued with A.D.D.

Being an A.D.D. man myself I knew that a few tasty distractions could serve as an adequate smokescreen for my conversational getaway.

It worked and the subject was not to be breeched again. The mystery is still unsolved.


FancyPants said...

Ha! I love that clip. I've had a few of those moments myself. The most recent was during a trip to New York not too long ago. I wasn't sure what train to take from the Upper West side to Times Square. So I bravely approached the person behind the glass next to the Metro card purchase machines.

Me: I have a question about the trains, sir....I mean!'am...I mean! Ummm....

What train to Times Square?

She/He/It with a golf ball size, wart covered, hairy nose: (no hint of smile, flat eyes, basically entirely pissed off) D, get on A at 59th.

Me: (sheepishly, still trying to figure it out) Thanks. (Head down, run away)

Anonymous said...

I won't even hint at the presence of a baby in a woman until she tells me with her mouth that she's pregnant. I don't care if her stomach is sticking out three feet but she has stick limbs. I don't care if she's wearing a shirt that says "One in the Oven." I don't care if she grabs her stomach, her water breaks on my shoes, and she gets all cross-eyed while moaning in pain. Until she looks me in the eye and says, "I'm pregnant," I will carry on as if there is nothing to notice.

euphrony said...

When I was in college, I took this girl on a date to a nice restaurant (first date). My hair was a little longer, then, but not very long. We are seated, and perusing the menu when our waiter walks up and asks "How are you ladies doing this evening . . ." and as I look up from my menu, and he sees my face, he continues "um . . . so sorry about that . . .umm . . . don't know what I was saying". An embarrassing moment for him, but it gave us some laughs. What's worse is that I went back to that same restaurant sometime later, and the same thing happened again! Now, I don't cut a very feminine figure (really!), and it was two different waiters who did this.

If there is such a thing as poetic justice, it's working is seen in the fact that the restaurant folded not long after the second incident. I mean, if they can't teach their staff to recognize men from women, then how good can their food be, right?

Lindsey said...

I have those moments more than I would like to admit! It keeps me humble.
So, I pasted all the blogs I have written on myspace to my blogspot, divafal. I hope y'all check 'em out and laugh a little.