Today, I'm Thankful My Humiliations Amuse You

For my requisite uber-gross and shameful TMI Thursday post please click here (or scroll down, if you’re into manual labor).

In case everyone is so sick of their family already that they’re scanning the interwebs, here’s an embarrassing little ditty I can share with you. Because today, I am thankful that you find my shameful exploits amusing.

I have a certain saying. I end up saying it A LOT. And it goes like this: “Open mouth, insert foot.” I do not claim to be the inventor of said phrase, but please, let me assure you, I am an absolute pro when it comes to EXECUTING it. My big fat maw has committed faux pas after faux pas, leaving me at the mercy of my hopefully understanding audience to decide whether they really want to be seen with me in a social setting, after all.

Last Friday, I was lucky enough to attend dinner with these two fine fellows and some of their lovely friends. I.e., PEOPLE I HAD NEVER MET BEFORE. This is key. It was a restaurant of Asian persuasion. This is also important.

I was drinking saki, because when in Rome, right? They give you those cute little personal pitchers of it, which is great, because I’m the oldest in my family and therefore, not a great sharer. (What’s yours is mine, and all that. What?) Anyhoo, I had finished mine and ordered another. The gentleman across the way was also drinking saki, and apparently ordered a refill a minute or two after I did. I was too busy nuzzling chatting with Lem to notice.

Five minutes later, the very Asian waiter brings over a little saki pitcher and sets it in front of the gentleman across the way.

“Oh, excuse me,” I said, “but I think that might be mine.”

He looked at me quizzically. “Ummm… yours is full.”

I looked down at my wee pitcher, and sure enough, it was full to the brim with fresh hot saki. Without thinking, I looked up at the Asian waiter, impressed.

“Oh, wow,” I commended him, “I didn’t even see you bring that! You’re like a NINJA!”

The entire table stared at me, mouths agape. The kind waiter laughed it off- I can only hope he wasn’t that offended. “Like a ninja” is a compliment, no?!? Who doesn’t want to be like a ninja??

In truth, it’s all B’s fault- he makes jokes about being like a ninja (in a completely non-offensive way) all the time, and I guess I just had it on the brain. But, yeah, the Asian waiter doesn’t know that.

He only knows I’m an asshole. And now, six other people I didn’t know til last Friday, know that I’m an asshole too. In fact, today, Lem sent me this out of the blue. And then laughed. Whore.

This Thanksgiving, I meet B’s parents for the first time. As in, yanno, that whole,

AAAAAGGGHHHH MEET THE PARENTS!!!

thing. Last night as we were packing, I looked up at him, deciding what to wear for the first impression, and said,

“What if I say something stupid??”

“Oh, baby,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and placing a kiss on my forehead… “I’m sure you will.”

So am I, darling, so am I. Here’s to hoping I can successfully charm them to see past whatever blunders I make this weekend.

Happy Thanksgiving!