dumbness and weekend trip
Nov. 14th, 2003 08:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
same_skyMy dad dropped by this evening and handed me a set of keys. They had decided, completely out of the blue and unrequested, to loan us their car for our little weekend trip. So we'll be cruisin' out of town tomorrow in a 2001 Cadillac. Our Oldsmobile is a nice traveling car, but seriously, it just can't compete with the Caddy. So that's pretty fun, although we will spend more in gas for the thing, and the expensive gas, at that. Roomy, though! My parents are swell.
That's one of two things I was going to mention, actually. I've been using the strangest old-fashioned slang lately. M still bursts into giggles because of my "Awww, shucks," the other night. I also said "horse feathers!" earlier today. The other thing is that I am really really dumb this week. If I say something stupid, please be kind and overlook it. I think my brain has been focusing on the details of writing instead of common sense. I used to have no common sense, btw, but I... hmm. This is a good theory, actually, though it just started spilling out when I mentioned this without any warning or thought in advance. See, I've developed common sense from the last five years with M. He has oodles of common sense. He is bloody annoying with all this common sense spilling out all over the place. Now, as a rule, I'm fairly sensible most of the time, but I guess it's not something I come by naturally. So like flying beds that disappear when I stop concentrating on them (*wink*) I seem to have lost my common sense this week since I haven't been concentrating on it. I guess. All I know is that I say stupid stuff and I've been so embarrassed over my dumbness lately. Not to be overly immodest, but I don't tend to be that way. I'm used to being right or not getting into it at all, so this is painful for me. ;)
Case in point:
K: It's funny they call them mandos, because there isn't an.. oh phooey+, nevermind. *major blushing* (+Notice more odd wordage.)
M: What? Tell me!
K: I was going to say that there was no "o" in "mandolin" but I guess there is.
Did I mention that I came in second/third in a spelling bee in sixth grade? I lost to two eight-graders, who ended up tying. I write about mandolins relatively often, since that's M's big hobby. I KNOW that there's an o in it, and even if there weren't, it still wouldn't be funny that they call them mandos, it would just be dumb. Of course, M gallantly claimed that it wasn't because I couldn't spell, but because I'm from Kentucky. They're NOT mandolins here, they're manlins. :) He's right, though that's not why I was dumb, that just popped out naturally. That IS how people say it here, though. :) The Kentucky accent is particular and interesting , actually. It's not exactly Southern.. anyway, I'm not going into that right now. This entry is freakin' long (I've written the rest of it already, so I know these things.)
In honor of our little trip, I think I'll tell a story from one of our previous trips to Gatlinburg. If this pops into my head at the right moment, I can still laugh myself silly over it, but the hilarity might be lost here. I don't know.
It was late evening on a Sunday in May--I remember this because it was actually Mother's Day, and I tried to convince M to let me tell them we had a little girl at home so I would get a free piece of pie--and we stopped at a "country" restaurant for dinner. The place was fairly empty, and we were seated on one side of the restaurant in a booth. Two middle-aged women came in and were seated at the booth behind us. I was facing closest to them but facing away from them, M towards them. Hey, like this. M -><- K | W1 -><- W2. Let's give them names. Let's call them Persnickety and Embarrassed, for reasons that will become clear.
In any case, Persnickety and her sister ordered ribs. It was a big decision involving much discourse and special instructions, which M and I were rolling our eyes over to begin with. Persnickety insists that she wants end ribs, because she knows that that's the best piece. The food was delivered, but a horrible mistake had been made--they had brought out fatty meat. (The end piece, as you might know, is a fatty piece. That would be why they're good.. the fat makes them melt in your mouth, which is why some people prefer them. So they say, anyway, I don't like ribs myself.) So they send both plates of ribs back and wait for them to be replaced with leaner ribs. The waitress brought out the second batch of ribs, and these looked more acceptable in terms of fat content.
Then there was another serious problem to be considered. They hadn't brought out any horseradish. First of all, I've never seen a restaurant bring out horseradish with ribs, but okay, maybe it's a regional thing. The waitress, who happened to be the manager, apologized nicely and returned to the kitchen for the horseradish. She came out to report the sad news--there was no horseradish available. This is where it began to get funny.
Persnickety sounds deeply troubled. "What do you mean, there is no horseradish?"
"It seems we ran out of horseradish just a little while ago," the waitress said apologetically. "Could I get you some other type of sauce?"
There is some hesitation, and the waitress runs through other condiment options. "No, no, ribs must have horseradish or they're not worth eating."
"I'm sorry," the waitress says again. "Would you like to order something else?"
There is a pause, and Persnickety finally agrees, as if it's a big favor, to peruse the menu again. The waitress removes both meals and whisks them away to the kitchen while they look over the menu again. When the waitress returns, the two women finally order something else. Lasagna, I think. What follows is an extremely long conversation between Persnickety and Embarrassed about how a restaurant could be run without horseradish and serve such horrible meat, etc. Persnickety was of the opinion that they should definitely have sent someone after horseradish before they even ran out to begin with, and everyone knows that the end piece is supposed to be lean. Embarrassed, who probably should have been named "Follows Along", agrees with her weakly. M and I struggle not to laugh out loud, but fail miserably. This pisses Persnickety off even more. Several minutes later, the waitress walks by again.
"Cancel my order," Persnickety says. "I don't want anything if I can't have ribs."
The waitress remains calm. "Alright," she said. "And you, ma'am? Would you still like your lasagna?" Embarrassed nods weakly. "It'll be out shortly, then," she says.
We were very impressed with the waitress/manager at this point, because it must have been very hard to keep her cool. The two women--and you know which one kept the conversation alive--keep talking about the woeful lack of horseradish in such an establishment, not to mention the pathetic quality of the meat served. The manager brings out the plate of lasagna with a smile. She sets it down in front of Embarrassed. "Will there be anything else?" she asked.
"Actually, I think we're going to walk out," Persnickety says persnicketily. "We've been here such a long time already, and there was no horseradish, this is completely unacceptable." She stares challengingly at the manager.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," the manager says calmly and turns to Embarrassed. "Would you like a box, ma'am?"
See, now that was classy. Persnickety and Embarrassed leave, taking the box of lasagna and not paying a dime. The manager could have argued the matter, of course, but it wouldn't have accomplished anything other than making a scene for the rest of the diners, and M and I were already having a hard time not laughing.
You'd think the story would end there, but life with my husband is never dull. After they had been gone for several minutes, the waitress comes by and asks if we need anything. With a perfectly straight face, M says, "Yes, could we get some horseradish sauce for this?"
I don't know if I'll be posting anything else before we get back, but it seems doubtful. Have a great weekend, ya'll. :)
That's one of two things I was going to mention, actually. I've been using the strangest old-fashioned slang lately. M still bursts into giggles because of my "Awww, shucks," the other night. I also said "horse feathers!" earlier today. The other thing is that I am really really dumb this week. If I say something stupid, please be kind and overlook it. I think my brain has been focusing on the details of writing instead of common sense. I used to have no common sense, btw, but I... hmm. This is a good theory, actually, though it just started spilling out when I mentioned this without any warning or thought in advance. See, I've developed common sense from the last five years with M. He has oodles of common sense. He is bloody annoying with all this common sense spilling out all over the place. Now, as a rule, I'm fairly sensible most of the time, but I guess it's not something I come by naturally. So like flying beds that disappear when I stop concentrating on them (*wink*) I seem to have lost my common sense this week since I haven't been concentrating on it. I guess. All I know is that I say stupid stuff and I've been so embarrassed over my dumbness lately. Not to be overly immodest, but I don't tend to be that way. I'm used to being right or not getting into it at all, so this is painful for me. ;)
Case in point:
K: It's funny they call them mandos, because there isn't an.. oh phooey+, nevermind. *major blushing* (+Notice more odd wordage.)
M: What? Tell me!
K: I was going to say that there was no "o" in "mandolin" but I guess there is.
Did I mention that I came in second/third in a spelling bee in sixth grade? I lost to two eight-graders, who ended up tying. I write about mandolins relatively often, since that's M's big hobby. I KNOW that there's an o in it, and even if there weren't, it still wouldn't be funny that they call them mandos, it would just be dumb. Of course, M gallantly claimed that it wasn't because I couldn't spell, but because I'm from Kentucky. They're NOT mandolins here, they're manlins. :) He's right, though that's not why I was dumb, that just popped out naturally. That IS how people say it here, though. :) The Kentucky accent is particular and interesting , actually. It's not exactly Southern.. anyway, I'm not going into that right now. This entry is freakin' long (I've written the rest of it already, so I know these things.)
In honor of our little trip, I think I'll tell a story from one of our previous trips to Gatlinburg. If this pops into my head at the right moment, I can still laugh myself silly over it, but the hilarity might be lost here. I don't know.
It was late evening on a Sunday in May--I remember this because it was actually Mother's Day, and I tried to convince M to let me tell them we had a little girl at home so I would get a free piece of pie--and we stopped at a "country" restaurant for dinner. The place was fairly empty, and we were seated on one side of the restaurant in a booth. Two middle-aged women came in and were seated at the booth behind us. I was facing closest to them but facing away from them, M towards them. Hey, like this. M -><- K | W1 -><- W2. Let's give them names. Let's call them Persnickety and Embarrassed, for reasons that will become clear.
In any case, Persnickety and her sister ordered ribs. It was a big decision involving much discourse and special instructions, which M and I were rolling our eyes over to begin with. Persnickety insists that she wants end ribs, because she knows that that's the best piece. The food was delivered, but a horrible mistake had been made--they had brought out fatty meat. (The end piece, as you might know, is a fatty piece. That would be why they're good.. the fat makes them melt in your mouth, which is why some people prefer them. So they say, anyway, I don't like ribs myself.) So they send both plates of ribs back and wait for them to be replaced with leaner ribs. The waitress brought out the second batch of ribs, and these looked more acceptable in terms of fat content.
Then there was another serious problem to be considered. They hadn't brought out any horseradish. First of all, I've never seen a restaurant bring out horseradish with ribs, but okay, maybe it's a regional thing. The waitress, who happened to be the manager, apologized nicely and returned to the kitchen for the horseradish. She came out to report the sad news--there was no horseradish available. This is where it began to get funny.
Persnickety sounds deeply troubled. "What do you mean, there is no horseradish?"
"It seems we ran out of horseradish just a little while ago," the waitress said apologetically. "Could I get you some other type of sauce?"
There is some hesitation, and the waitress runs through other condiment options. "No, no, ribs must have horseradish or they're not worth eating."
"I'm sorry," the waitress says again. "Would you like to order something else?"
There is a pause, and Persnickety finally agrees, as if it's a big favor, to peruse the menu again. The waitress removes both meals and whisks them away to the kitchen while they look over the menu again. When the waitress returns, the two women finally order something else. Lasagna, I think. What follows is an extremely long conversation between Persnickety and Embarrassed about how a restaurant could be run without horseradish and serve such horrible meat, etc. Persnickety was of the opinion that they should definitely have sent someone after horseradish before they even ran out to begin with, and everyone knows that the end piece is supposed to be lean. Embarrassed, who probably should have been named "Follows Along", agrees with her weakly. M and I struggle not to laugh out loud, but fail miserably. This pisses Persnickety off even more. Several minutes later, the waitress walks by again.
"Cancel my order," Persnickety says. "I don't want anything if I can't have ribs."
The waitress remains calm. "Alright," she said. "And you, ma'am? Would you still like your lasagna?" Embarrassed nods weakly. "It'll be out shortly, then," she says.
We were very impressed with the waitress/manager at this point, because it must have been very hard to keep her cool. The two women--and you know which one kept the conversation alive--keep talking about the woeful lack of horseradish in such an establishment, not to mention the pathetic quality of the meat served. The manager brings out the plate of lasagna with a smile. She sets it down in front of Embarrassed. "Will there be anything else?" she asked.
"Actually, I think we're going to walk out," Persnickety says persnicketily. "We've been here such a long time already, and there was no horseradish, this is completely unacceptable." She stares challengingly at the manager.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," the manager says calmly and turns to Embarrassed. "Would you like a box, ma'am?"
See, now that was classy. Persnickety and Embarrassed leave, taking the box of lasagna and not paying a dime. The manager could have argued the matter, of course, but it wouldn't have accomplished anything other than making a scene for the rest of the diners, and M and I were already having a hard time not laughing.
You'd think the story would end there, but life with my husband is never dull. After they had been gone for several minutes, the waitress comes by and asks if we need anything. With a perfectly straight face, M says, "Yes, could we get some horseradish sauce for this?"
I don't know if I'll be posting anything else before we get back, but it seems doubtful. Have a great weekend, ya'll. :)
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Chuckle
Date: 2003-11-14 09:46 pm (UTC)Re: Chuckle
Date: 2003-11-18 08:11 am (UTC)The weekend was great. :) Thanks. :)
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Date: 2003-11-15 12:17 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2003-11-18 01:02 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2003-11-18 08:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-15 06:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-18 08:14 am (UTC)