Jibs & Jabs of a Cranky Old Hag
I recently offered to sign one of my books for a friend. She gladly accepted, but in doing so, she instructed me to not write anything off color.
“Why would I do that?” I asked feeling a little surprised at the footnote.
“I don’t know, just making sure,” she answered.
Shaking my head as I signed, I said, “Well, I wouldn’t do that. You never know when a child is going to pick it up and see it and I know you have two little ones at home.”
There’s a time for adult humor. Being around children or exposing them to adult humor is not the place or time. I thought about that all day long. It kind of hurt my feelings that she felt the need to tell me this. I thought she knew me better. I admit that I have a warped sense of humor, however, I know when to be "adult," and when not.
It reminded me of my daughter’s bridal shower. A friend of ours asked if she could do it at her house, for which I was grateful. When it came time to open gifts, the hostess took mine out of my daughter’s hands.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, noting her to put the gifts I had brought on her kitchen counter and away from the gifts everyone else had brought.
“She can open yours in private,” she said laughing. “I know you, and I don’t want her opening anything inappropriate in front of everyone.”
“If you know me, then you know I would not bring an ‘inappropriate gift’ to her bridal shower,” I insisted. “Give them back to her.”
The hostess was hesitant, but I think she could tell I was mad. “Okay,” she conceded, “but if there’s anything suggestive or sexual in here, I’m going to be really upset.”
The same thing happened at work when we threw a baby shower for one of our nurses. They all thought I was going to bring some skimpy negligee or a sex toy (to a baby shower!) One of the CNA’s brought a cake that was in the shape of a penis, but I was the one accused of being potentially inappropriate. Why?
Although, I do give my daughter gifts like negligees, thongs, things of that nature, I do not give them in front of people.
When I really think about it, it doesn’t just hurt my feelings, but it really offends me. I have more class than that. I have decided that these people who think they know me so well, apparently, do not really know me at all.
I was telling my husband that Bob Seger & the Silver Bullet Band is doing a final
tour and how I'd love to go see them in concert. They were a big name from our youth.
"The tickets are going to cost a small fortune," he exclaimed.
"Yeah, I know and can I show him my ta-ta's?
Hubby rolled his eyes and said, "Only if I don't have to pick them up off the floor to hold them up for him to see."
I suffer from bouts of insomnia at times. One particular night, I decided I was going to get a good night’s rest and took a couple of sleep gummies. They’re filled with Melatonin (Melan); an enzyme our bodies create that help with sleep. In my defense, the directions do say 1-2 gummies at bedtime. I took two.
I fell asleep on the couch and at some point in the middle of the night, I heard my husband standing over me and saying something.
“Are you okay?” I heard him ask.
In my Melatonin induced haze, I was thinking, “Ugh, why is he waking me up! He knows I have problems sleeping and I finally get into a good sleep and now he wants to ask me questions!”
“Do you need help?” he continued, “Wake up!”
“What is he talking about?”
He comes closer. “Are you hurt?”
“Why would I be...oh hell! I’m on the floor!”
I woke up face down on the floor with my hands (palms down) on either side of my head. I was so groggy; I had to struggle to sit up. I finally get into a sitting position on the floor, as my husband is hunched over behind me and looking over my shoulder into my face.
With great relief he says, “Holy hell, I thought you were dead!”
I’m still hazy as I struggle to turn and look at him. “What?”
“I thought you were dead!” he reiterates. “I was walking over to lock the front door when I saw you just turn and roll off the couch like a log and then you went ‘WHAM!’ and hit the floor with a thud, but then I saw you move so I knew you were, at least, alive.”
I start pulling myself up and back onto the couch, which is a task and a half. I’m thinking to myself, “Did I WHAM so hard because of my big ass that I am now having trouble picking up off the floor; and why didn’t I even know I fell off the...”
As I lift said big ass off the floor and have it high in the air, I hear my husband behind me giggling. “I’m sorry! I know it’s not funny, but I keep thinking about how hard you hit the floor. You just rolled like a log and then didn’t even move. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh!” (giggles more).
“It’s not funny,” I scolded in distress, still heaving the dorsal part of my body up onto the couch. “Okay, it’s a little funny, but right now it isn’t.”
We were driving down this street and I'm cleaning my (defective) glasses and see a little doggy pooping in someone's yard...maybe his own, IDK.
I asked my hubby, "What breed is that dog? I don't recognize it."
Hubby said, "What dog?"
"That one over there taking a crap in the yard," I said. As we got closer to the pup, I was pointing with one hand and putting my glasses on with the other. "Never mind, I see it now."
"Well what it is?" he asked as he's now scanning the area looking for the dog.
I sigh heavily and say, "The fire hydrant: I saw the fire hydrant and thought it was a dog pooping in someone's yard."
Two blocks later, hubby points to a fire hydrant and says, "Look! There's another one of those new breeds of dogs you saw a few blocks over. They're everywhere!"
We are currently not speaking to each other.