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Tuesday, December 05, 2006

On the daily

“Everything becomes a little different as soon as it is spoken out loud.” ~Hermann Hesse

In third grade I told my teacher – Mr. Horan – that his pants were ‘tacky’ because I had confused ‘tacky’ with ‘khaki’ and apparently the two are not the same. Which reminds me of the day that he brought in an ultrasound picture of his son (Who I saw recently and I’ve suddenly aged like 14 years, which is probably the reason for the grays.) and I told him that it looked like a seashell, but how I came up with that is beyond me, but I was 7.

There was the time that I called my father a ‘son of a bitch’ in a joking fashion over a bottle of grape soda that he had hidden in the pantry. Though unlike Mr. Horan, el padre didn’t enjoy the words coming out of his 7 or 8 year old daughter’s mouth and decided to remove my lips from my face with his bare hands and since then I haven’t called anyone a son of a bitch.

Sometimes it’s a general spewing of things and even when I really think about what I want to say before actually saying it, I end up catatonic. Thus I rarely like to speak unless I’m fairly sure of what I’m saying before I say it. Which is why I tend to fare better at writing things out than actually speaking, but even then things don’t work very well, though actually it goes both ways given that I find the sound of my own voice akin to the noise that a fork makes when scraped along someone’s front teeth. So I end up sitting in rather durr-like fashion muttering to myself, possibly rocking back and forth and realizing that that didn’t go as well as I hoped.

Really though, I’m actually getting used to it. I plan to have lots of cats to talk to and maybe a dog. They won’t judge.

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16 Comments:

Blogger Brunch Bird said...

Oh my god. I once called my father a bastard when I was little because I'd just watched a cartoon in which the word "dastard" was used to describe a villain and I got confused. My mother unconfused me in short order.

11:54 AM  
Blogger Heather B. said...

Actually, I did that once too. So my father pretty much hated me by the age of 10. And if he didn't hate me, he probably thought he raised an idiot.

11:56 AM  
Blogger honeykbee said...

Clearly you've never had a cat. They judge, they judge.

12:01 PM  
Anonymous Grandma Chic said...

For some reason, all the girls in my second grade class said "Duh HICKEY" instead of just plain old "Duh."

My mother politely told me not to use words if I didn't know their meaning. I love her.

12:27 PM  
Blogger KassyK said...

I actually think its quite brilliant how you think before you speak in public. :) I know it took years of these kinds of incidents to make you that way but then again look at me...I try to think before I speak but I consistently stick my foot in my mouth.

1:42 PM  
Anonymous alyndabear said...

I'm just the shy one at parties who ends up blabbing out crap just to fill the silence.

And I hate silences!

2:30 PM  
Anonymous LisaBinDaCity said...

I know all too well the expression, "open mouth, insert foot." ;-)

3:14 PM  
Anonymous Lawyerish said...

I wish I could communicate at all times in written form, because really, it would save me a lot of anxiety to hand people slips of paper or use hand gestures rather than open my blabby mouth.

The thing is, I don't often actually say dumb things, but I somehow convince myself after a conversation that SOMETHING I said MIGHT POSSIBLY be misconstrued and may, in fact, be horrendously offensive, and a cascade of events will ensue, and I will end up penniless and alone (this is how all things end up in all of my disastrous imagined scenarios, by the way). It's not fun.

3:40 PM  
Anonymous Michelle said...

I seriously laughed out loud! HAHA!

4:23 PM  
Blogger Heather B. said...

I just really wish y'all could have been privy to this conversation. It was like great moments in inept behavior part the 487,986th. It was sad.

Oh and Honeykbee, I'm actually cat-sitting right now and they JUDGE. They STARE. And they HATE. But around 9 they decide to cuddle. It's almost cute.

4:26 PM  
Anonymous jes said...

When I was 4 I told my ballet teacher that her newborn baby looked like a pig.

And afterward, I could never figure out why I no longer received ribbons for my performances, or special treatment from her.

It's a wonder, really. Don't you think?

6:29 PM  
Blogger Liz said...

My dog always looks at me like I'm a fucking rock star. Why do you think I've kept him for this long? Not because he helps pay the mortgage, that's for sure.

6:55 PM  
Blogger Dagny said...

Actually the cats do judge. Especially if you start dancing around.

12:15 AM  
Blogger Lux Lisbon said...

A friend of mine had a party this weekend. I went with another friend and her friends who had just come to visit from Scotland. Soon after arriving my friend says "I've already warned them about you." Apparently my reputation for saying the wrong things proceeds me. I'm still recovering from the hurt I felt at hearing this.

7:38 AM  
Blogger Heather Anne said...

My third grade teacher told the class there was no Santa Claus. I still haven't recovered.

10:42 AM  
Anonymous guinness girl said...

I once drunkenly told a college acquaintance that she looked like John Candy. Uhhhhh. Yeah. I'm so socially evolved.

3:22 PM  

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