I Was Mistaken For A Girl
During the Christmas holidays in the early to mid-90’s, I went to a Blockbuster Video store to rent a couple holiday movies with a woman I knew then.
Some guy dressed as Santa was talking to a clerk. As we walked past them, Santa said, “There go two lovely young ladies.”
I stopped, turned around and Santa did one of those grimacing things and I walked up to him and said, “For your mistake, Santa—you can make it up to me by having my dream car parked in front of my house Christmas day.”
He apologized profusely saying he would do his very best for me.
Back then, I had a bit of a long ponytail and that was why he mistook me for a girl.
Never did see a car come Christmas day.
And yeah, that's me about 25 years ago in the picture with a ponytail.
As my mother and I were walking home one evening, we turned the corner and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end: My nightmare had come to life. There was a monstrous, stray dog at the other corner.
I picked up the pace. Must…reach…the…gate…before…
The dog began to run, barking wildly.
I ran faster.
I got to our home, opened the gate…
and slammed it shut. Leaving my mother on the other side.
She stood there as the dog ran within 50 feet of her at which point, he slammed on the brakes sliding on his butt to stop himself, staring in disbelief at the Amazon who stood there, arms folded looking at him with her don’t-mess-with-me-and-my-baby-I-have-killed-men-for-less look. The dog gave a half-hearted bark, then ran back the way he had come.
I wasn’t so lucky as she turned those eyes on me.
So, this happened to me not too long ago... it was embarrassing, but funny. XD
There were two guys who came to fix our oven about a month or so ago, and they wore masks and everything. I, being the eldest at home, let them in and showed them the oven. I then sat down and did my schoolwork.
A little while later one guy asked me if we have a stepstool. I, not understanding what he had said, stared at the air, and thought.... then I asked, “A.... stethoscope?”
He laughs, along with the other guy, and says slower and more clearly, “A stepstool.” I heard it more clearly that time, and hurried to find one. I sat back down, so embarrased.
My sister had been holding back her laughter and later asked, “Why would they have needed a stethoscope?!?!”
We all make mistakes, right? XD
I have been deaf in my left ear for a very long time. I’m not sure how or when it happened, but it is something with which I have learned to adapt.
Once upon a time, long ago, when I was young, my friends and I would frequent the bars for a night of dancing. It was one of those nights, perhaps 1984, at a bar called The No Name Cafe in Charleston, where a friend and I were having a beer and listening to a great song by someone like The Pet Shop Boys or Robert Palmer. As I stood there sipping my beer, a man approached, whispering in my left ear. Not hearing a word he’d said, I shook my head and said, “No, thanks.” Perplexed, the man arched his brows and then said, “But I asked the time.” Mortified, I gave him the time.
Blind Date Drama
We met for the first time at a putt-putt course. As with any blind date, I had my gang of girls putt-putting right behind us. Awkward? A little. Especially when my sister and I look like twins. What if my date found?
That wasn't the worst part. After putt-putting, I excused myself to the bathroom where I met my sister. We chatted between the stalls and I told her that we were heading to Starbucks for a drink and I felt safe enough that they didn't have to follow. That's when it happened.
I tried to unlock the stall door but it jammed. I was literally trapped in the stall, my sister laughing hysterically. I was laughing uncontrollably as well.
Long story short, I had to crawl under the stall to get out and ended up never telling my date the story. It will be one for the memory books.
How do you spell Yucky?
I was 6 years old. My church had a chili contest to see who could make the best chili. Here's how it went. We got samples of different chili and then wrote down our feedback. Well, there was a moment of silence while everyone was writing their thoughts. Through that silence everyone hears a very loud child (me) say "Mommy, how do you spell yucky?"
Story 2: This happened just a few days ago. My brother is very good at mental math. Well I jokingly asked him how he got so good at it. he said "I forgot my pencil everyday to school."
"And your calculator?" I asked.
"Lost that halfway through the school year."
Don’t Open My Pants!
As newlyweds, my sexy Colombian husband and I impressed each other with our culinary skills. Dinner was an event!
After returning from a stressful day, I was pleased to see Jorge at work creating a masterpiece. He was stirring, frying, and boiling all sorts of things and had piles of veggies ready to be chopped.
After fixing me a large cocktail, he guided me to the porch adjacent to the kitchen. “Just relax mi amor,” he said. I finished my cocktail but wanted to change out of my work attire. As I entered the kitchen, an agitated Jorge said rather loudly, “Don’t open my pants!”
Did he think I was feeling frisky? I must have looked puzzled because he grabbed a potholder and lifted the large stainless steel lid off of a big Dutch oven on the stove. He said it a second time. I finally got it!
One day my younger brother wanted some chocolate milk.We only had the powder, so he made himself some and put wayyyy too much powder, making it look dark and gooey.Carrying the cup, he slipped on a toy car and went flying backwards, spilling the goo all over the walls.I ran over to see what happened, not knowing he was doing and noticed the chocolate dripping down the walls.Asking him what it was, he told me he pooped.I believed it because he was wearing loose gym shorts and asked how it was even possible to get shit on the walls like that.He told me he slipped on the car and it surprised him so much he let loose on his way down.I couldn't stop laughing, but also dreaded having to clean it.When he was satisfied with my reaction, he told me it was just chocolate milk and we laughed even harder.
How I Got This One Scar-
I have a scar on my right wrist. Well, three lines, that is. They've been there for about half a year. Maybe the scar came from a tiger scratch? Or aliens left scars while doing tests on me? No, it was from something insanely stupid. There was an annoying fly circling me, buzzing around my face as I was about to brush my teeth. I tried to shoo it away, and it landed on the bathroom window. Naturally, (okay, idiotically) I slammed my right hand onto the window to try and smash the fly. That didn't go so well. I broke the window with my hand, and let's say that I probably should have gotten stitches. But that wasn't the worst part- the fly got away. So now I'm at war with the flies.
Working hard on tilling the ground preparing the ground to plant just outside the State Mental Hospital, there at the fence line I sat near a tree letting the cool air race over my sweat soaked shirt. I took out my lunch box, and took a cold drink from my thermos. And I heard a voice behind me on the other side of the fence.
Mr. What are you doing out there?
Turning around, I said tilling the ground to plant strawberries.
The following month I took a break for lunch.
Mr. What are you doing out there?
Turning around, I said putting manure on the Strawberries.
Mr. they say I am crazy; we put sugar on ours in here!