This gift of speech
Some have a face for radio and some have a voice for writing. I have come to the conclusion that it might be profitable to restrict my permission to address women.
My wife and I were enjoying a day at the beach with other couples. Lake Michigan's waters were surprisingly warm that day and the ripples were so inspired they aspired to oceanic wavelengths. So we were out there battling the crashing waves, moveable dunes heaping themselves up with the sheer joy of the day. One of the lasses that was there, let's call her Sarah, was floating on her back and as the wave crest lofted her she rolled over flinging glittering droplets from her outstretched fingers. The positioning of her arms, held out straight, struck me (not physically, but in reminiscence) similarly to the positioning of flippers, on some sea creature, as it would play. And so I said:
"Sarah, you rolled over just like a Manatee."
I don't need to tell you that the aquatic life form I chose (based on the positioning and usual movement of its flippers, mind you!) was not a flattering choice of image as a whole. You see, it is hard to explain the delicacies of comparative armature movement amongst mammals to a lady whom you have verbally and publicly just likened to a sea cow.
Wednesday, I proved once again why my interaction with females other than my spouse should be strictly monitored. We had just returned from our trip to the Cleveland Clinic. When we got a call from a dear friend who had sent us an encouragement just before we left and who is able to relate because of her own experiences, let's just call her Sara. My wife was feeling terrible so I got to be the one who told Sara how the trip had been and what tests and such we could look forward to in the future. One of them is a colonoscopy. Sara also has to have one and an endoscope too! And so I said:
"Wow! Like a barbecued hog on a spit."
I immediately realized what an awful inappropriate thing that was to say and apologized.
"I am so sorry that was a really horrible metaphor." I said.
"Yeah." she said.
She was very gracious to continue talking on the phone to me and the fact that she was able to remain polite is an indication of what a great person she is. I looked at my wife and she was shaking her head at me. She had that look on her face that she gets when I have screwed up so bad that all she can do is laugh but she is trying not to.
And now, a final example that takes me all the way back to junior high. My buddy Josh and I were in a youth orchestra at church. We played trumpets and there was this cute girl who sat next to me and laughed at some of my jokes, let's just not call her anything. There was only one problem. She wouldn't tell me her name. I really got on her case about it one time but she flatly refused. I decided humor might be in order to break the ice. And so I said:
"What? It's not like you have some ridiculous name like GERtrude or something!"
I never saw her again. Her cousin played trombone. You already know what he told me the next week.
My wife and I were enjoying a day at the beach with other couples. Lake Michigan's waters were surprisingly warm that day and the ripples were so inspired they aspired to oceanic wavelengths. So we were out there battling the crashing waves, moveable dunes heaping themselves up with the sheer joy of the day. One of the lasses that was there, let's call her Sarah, was floating on her back and as the wave crest lofted her she rolled over flinging glittering droplets from her outstretched fingers. The positioning of her arms, held out straight, struck me (not physically, but in reminiscence) similarly to the positioning of flippers, on some sea creature, as it would play. And so I said:
"Sarah, you rolled over just like a Manatee."
I don't need to tell you that the aquatic life form I chose (based on the positioning and usual movement of its flippers, mind you!) was not a flattering choice of image as a whole. You see, it is hard to explain the delicacies of comparative armature movement amongst mammals to a lady whom you have verbally and publicly just likened to a sea cow.
Wednesday, I proved once again why my interaction with females other than my spouse should be strictly monitored. We had just returned from our trip to the Cleveland Clinic. When we got a call from a dear friend who had sent us an encouragement just before we left and who is able to relate because of her own experiences, let's just call her Sara. My wife was feeling terrible so I got to be the one who told Sara how the trip had been and what tests and such we could look forward to in the future. One of them is a colonoscopy. Sara also has to have one and an endoscope too! And so I said:
"Wow! Like a barbecued hog on a spit."
I immediately realized what an awful inappropriate thing that was to say and apologized.
"I am so sorry that was a really horrible metaphor." I said.
"Yeah." she said.
She was very gracious to continue talking on the phone to me and the fact that she was able to remain polite is an indication of what a great person she is. I looked at my wife and she was shaking her head at me. She had that look on her face that she gets when I have screwed up so bad that all she can do is laugh but she is trying not to.
And now, a final example that takes me all the way back to junior high. My buddy Josh and I were in a youth orchestra at church. We played trumpets and there was this cute girl who sat next to me and laughed at some of my jokes, let's just not call her anything. There was only one problem. She wouldn't tell me her name. I really got on her case about it one time but she flatly refused. I decided humor might be in order to break the ice. And so I said:
"What? It's not like you have some ridiculous name like GERtrude or something!"
I never saw her again. Her cousin played trombone. You already know what he told me the next week.
posted by Jonny10 at 9:08 AM
11 Comments:
Man, you make me crack up!
I remember the manatee thing. It was priceless.
If you need anyone to discuss a colonoscopy with, I am the individual. By my count, I have had over 9 of them during my lifetime! The advice I have is:
1. Make sure they start at the right end.
2. If they tell you to drink "Go-Lightly", laugh at them maniacally. Then marvel that they could actually name that stuff "Go-Lightly" given what it actually does. Go for Phospho-Soda-it's painful, but it's shorter.
3. Apple juice will cut the flavor of the phospho-soda the best.
4. A mix of broth and jello is the best the day before.
5. Ask for Versed-you won't remember a thing!
I have many more tidbits if you'd like! Hang in there!!!
You, my friend, are hilarious.
Now see if you can figure out who I am.
Ah yes, my dear trusted anonymous friend. I love a mystery!
I have a guess, though a red-herring may throw me off.
Hmmm, Horsehead Nebula, Frantic Brilliant prose: I especially enjoyed the Chicken Pest problem and the proclamation "it's science!"
My latin is bum and vice versa, but it seems to me Radont from Rado - to scrape, shave, graze, erase, hurt, offend. Sagus? Perhaps Sagum, a black cloak, lending: One who is cloaked in Scrapings, which is absurd, or Cloaked in Offense which indicates you have read much of my blog. Maybe Sage as in Sagacious, or wise meaning:
Offensive Wisdom
Erased Knowledge
Hurt Intellect
Shaved Learning
The red-herring comes from the deep questions regarding the spacial coordinates of a bean derived liquid. Unless the grounds (Rado- to scrape) of such were submitted to a salt water process to remove the offensive element.
I would guess that who made the QSP available might compare to one employing the nomme-de-plume Mourningstar in poetic offerings to the Natural Gazette of Poetry and Philosophy. One who first introduced me to a certain Slippery Jim DiGriz
Am I close?
Wow, Jon. Maybe avoid analogies from time to time?
You married the perfect woman. I'm not sure I'd have her grace or sense of humor!
i understand the quiet shaking of her head as i find myself doing the same quite often.
the other day jason was online looking up recipes for egg salad for sandwiches b/c my cookbooks mysteriously had no recipe for it. later i wondered aloud why it had taken him so long, i thought maybe egg salad went out of fashion. he said, "oh well, i spelled 'salad' wrong. once that was fixed i found it right away." i could envision him sitting there frustrated, "why can't i find egg sald?!!"
um, sorry i keep posting things, but i wanted to share our friend jeff's blog w/ you - he was in our wedding, is jason's good friend who i've said i thought you'd get along with.
http://jeff.viapositiva.net/
:)
Perhaps you are close to half of my identity. Alas, my personalities are split and I know not if you have accurately described the 'other'. This personality, however, must agree with the 'other'; I find your tales humorous. Side-splitting even.
Dee-licious!
Radont-Sagus must be a concatenation of names then, such as Grant Naylor.
Hmm, David is telling and Sagus may have to do with Sagacious as I originally thought, specifically a gleefully erroneous application of the term to the consternation of its recipient! It would seem to me that this particular side of your personality might not be above quibbling over the correct pronunciation of the nomenclature of a mythological creature. Perhaps this side might be inclined to describe a dog's paws as meaty, it's lips cheesy? It would also explain the coffee!
I feel I have much in common with both sides of your personality Radont-Sagus: Trumpets, bullies, fantastical literature, evangelism. I had best be wary lest another personality surface in my own mind in response to yours. I will embunker this basement (indeed the mental razorwire is already spooling out) so that no internal assault can prevail upon it, but I know not where my other may arise.
I have found out the identity at last and I was way off. I did not dream that I had more friends of the same literary bent. Take a sausage grinder and toss Douglas Adams, Monty Python, and Stephen Hawking into it.
Bingo.
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