Bilingual Foot in Mouth Disease

bird on headTrigger Word Warning: Several accidental situations which have been construed to contain sexual innuendo.  This includes one unfortunate mention of a very private part.

I openly admit that I suffer from chronic foot-in-mouth disease.  I manage to stick my foot into my mouth quite frequently.  This has gotten me into some rather humorous (albeit embarrassing) situations.

Thankfully, James is a man who was gifted with a wry sense of humor.  When we were dating, I promptly told him that I often lacked a “filter” between my thoughts, words and actions; so he needed to either be aware or decide to leave right then.  😉  He chose to stay; and I am so grateful that he did.

The following post consists of my “favorite” pink-inducing moments; both in English and in Spanish.  *I am so talented that I can bilingually embarrass myself!*  Here goes:

While in high school, I telephoned a guy friend of mine.  He answered the phone, I asked for him by name; and he responded, “This is him”.  I replied, “Do you know who this is?” He paused a moment, and said, “No,  I don’t”.  I quipped, “Good. That’s the way I like it!” to which he hollered, “Oh my. Wrong guy! I think you want my son!”  I stood there stupidly in my bedroom, holding the phone while my mouth was agape and my cheeks were turning crimson.  I heard laughter on the other end of the line; and was stunned into stuttering while staring at the phone in my hand.

The thought never occurred to me that I could hang up the phone; I was in horrified shock that I had just flirted with his father! It didn’t take my actual guy friend long to deduce who was on the phone, and after that I was careful to check BOTH names that were listed in the directory.

That one took a long time to live down!

It wasn’t until after college, however, that I discovered my bilingual talent for foot-in-mouth disease.

The first bilingual pinking happened while I was a Camp Counselor.  In my cabin this particular week, we had one little girl who only spoke Spanish, as well as some girls who were bilingual.  I welcomed the chance to practice my fluency.  One day, the sweet little girl asked me, in Spanish, if I had a boyfriend.  I meant to say, “No, but I have many boys who are my guy friends.” I rattled off my answer; and was confused by the horrified little faces before me.  Their eyes were wide; and one of them said, “No, no; Gracie!”.  Quizzically, I repeated what I had said.  My co-counselor started to giggle.  That’s when I realized that I had actually said, “No, but I am really hungry for my many male friends!”.  I actually won a “klutz award” for that one, and eventually all of camp knew about my usage of the wrong verb.

The second bilingual pinking is the “Pièce de résistance”.  I was working as a placement specialist for a staffing agency; and was speaking in Spanish for most of my day.  I was soon pleased as our applicant base kept increasing; and my boss consistently commented on how quickly I was attracting new applicants that spoke Spanish.  When a new applicant arrived, I would have them fill out their application; and then, in Spanish, I would request that they take a “little test”, otherwise known as a quiz.

One of our placement specialists had been studying abroad in Spain, and she returned to our office.  She quickly made note of the fact that the Hispanic population was deeply devoted to me.  She quipped, “I am even answering the phone in Spanish, but they all insist that they must speak only with you!”  I grinned, feeling pretty good about my caring way that I made the applicants feel at home in our office.  Later that day, a new applicant came to the window; and I launched into my now-memorized spiel while I handed him his quiz.  My co-worker grabbed my arm; and directed me into a side office.  “What did you just say to him?”, she growled in a stage whisper.  I told her that I had asked him to take a quiz. “Repeat exactly what you said in Spanish!” I did, and she began laughing so hard that she had to sit down and gasp for air.  I looked at her incredulously, as a feeling of dread washed over me.  Finally, she regained her composure enough to gasp, “Testiculo is NOT a little test! It’s TESTICLE in Spanish! You have been asking our applicants for THAT! No wonder they won’t talk to anyone except you!”

Mortification is not a strong enough word to describe how I felt..until my sense of humor kicked in.  Then, there were two of us gasping for air!



Random Humor for Giggles

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This post is utterly, selfishly because I need to laugh.  Seriously, I want to laugh until tears stream down my face.  Here goes…in no particular order.

In college, I had a friend named Matt.  There was a residence hall on campus which
was a fraternity by default.  I say default only because frats and sororities were “forbidden” at our university.  That being said, the two floors in this particular hall were the closest to a frat house that we got.  It was one of the first weekends of our freshman year, and this “frat” group was playing “shoe golf”.  The guys would kick their shoe through the air, and see whose shoe had gone the furthest.  Then the game would proceed with the farthest kicker starting, and so on and so forth.

Well, Matt came over and watched the guys for a round; then asked if he could join them. They obliged, Matt bent over to “untie” his shoe; straightened to put his full strength into his kick…and fell on his back as his prosthetic shin and foot (complete with shoe), went flipping gloriously through the air. More than 30 young men stood in horror with eyes wide and mouths agape as they realized that an entire lower leg had just gone flying off of its owner.  They turned in slow motion to see Matt on his back, crocodile tears streaming from his eyes.

“Ummm, dude, are you ok?” managed one of the guys.

Matt gasped, “Ok?!…The looks on your faces are priceless!”

They all joined him in his laughter, and he was unanimously voted to be an honorary member!

Another fun memory was made on the night that I joined my friend Ken for a night out at the movies.

2014-04-21 19.23.18A local theatre had been built for silent films; and it was ornately decorated with marble flooring, gold leaf ceiling, plush velvet curtains; the whole bit.  They were offering a movie marathon for one low admission price; as well as a concession deal which was $1.00 to fill your own containers with pop and popcorn.

Ken had dutifully gone into town to scrounge the stores in hopes that he would locate the biggest (and slightly eccentric) containers.  To this day, I have no recollection of what he used for his pop.  I very vividly remember his popcorn holder.

He had purchased a plastic donkey planter which was about 18 inches from front to, uh, back.  We walked into the opulent theatre lobby and joined the throngs of locals who were dressed as if they were at a Country Club Brunch. People were in their little groups, chit chatting while awaiting entrance into the theatre proper.

At this point in the story, it is necessary to tell you that Ken has a voice which could be a dead-ringer for Jim Carrey. Ken walked up to the counter, and in his loudest voice (which was heard over everyone else), he asked, “Ex-x-x-cuse me…would you please fill my ASS with popcorn?”.

Dead silence.

The concessions attendant said, “Hmm hmm, what?”

Ken slowly and loudly repeated, “Would you please fill my (as he slid the donkey onto the counter) ASS with popcorn?”  Everyone lost it.  It no longer mattered that people were wearing pearls and three piece suits; the whole place erupted in laughter.

Hopefully,  this provided a respite from the mundane of life…and you laughed.