Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Like a Remote, I Need a Pause, Rewind, and Volume Control

In childhood my siblings tagged me with the moniker "Doc," which has stuck til this day.  Not like 'You're so smart, like a doctor,' or Bugs Bunny-esque 'What's up Doc?'  No, I got the nickname Doc for one of the Seven Dwarfs; you know the one that sounded like he had Tourette's syndrome when he got excited? it open foot, insert mouth?  Or is it open mouth, insert foot?
Sometime, okay, a lot of times, my brain fires too fast for the cerebral links to hook up properly and before I realize it, my mouth has gotten involved, so I wind up saying something entirely backwards.  But I'm not the only one to do these types of things.

Take Brain Regan  for example.  (Note: this guy is totally family friendly and totally funny).

So you'll (hopefully) laugh and excuse/understand what I'm about to admit.

Not too long ago, I was at a very crowded, un-named mega store looking for everyday low prices on all the everyday items that I need or think I need depending if I've read the ad flyer.  (Look, a microwaveable egg poacher!  I don't eat poached eggs, but what if I have a guest someday who would request a poached egg! Then I could use my egg poacher!  And it's only $2.50!) (NOTE: I do not own an egg poacher, but I know someone who did.)

Anyways. . . I was just about to turn down the cutesy Hallmark card aisle when I noticed a man in a wheelchair trying to do the same.  I pulled back on my cart and motioned him to pass.  He smiled and said "Thank you."

And what did I say?  "YOUR PROBLEM!"

Yes, somewhere in that misfiring brain of mine I couldn't decide if I wanted to say, "You're welcome" or "It was no problem," so I came out with that darling gem.  (IT'S YOUR PROBLEM THAT YOU CAN'T WALK!  YOU'RE CRIPPLED AND I'M NOT!  SO IT'S YOUR PROBLEM!  NOT MINE!)

There was no recovering from that; mortified, I walked away.