…than to open one’s mouth and remove all doubt.”
I happen to work with a rather nice woman. She’s friendly and polite and talented and so gosh-darn nice that occasionally I’m tempted to trip her or poke her or say something mean just to prove she’s really human. She basically fits all those good stereotypes about the young, devout, Christian bible student, without the annoying evangelical streak. I like to think of her and her husband as good friends, as well as good people.
But there’s one thing about her that bugs me. It just drives me nuts. Around her, I tend to say incredibly stupid things.
And I’m not talking about faux pas, about insensitive or rude comments, or “TMI” moments. I mean instances of such rank idiocy and sheer cluelessness on the magnitude of “hey, where’s the sun?” “It’s midnight, you moron” events.
A while ago I was verbally jousting with yet another colleague by the name of Bob, and he came out ahead. My friend happened to catch the tail end of my defeat, and I was grumbling to her about it. Among my other whines and complaints was “what can you expect from someone who has their name spelled the same backwards and forwards? They’re too dense to be able to handle a NORMAL name.”
Anna did not agree.
Yesterday I did it again. I was telling her that I’d just bought some books online — one by David Gerrold, two by Peter David (about whom I’ve been meaning to write for months). After mentioning that these purchases will fill out three series I’ve been meaning to complete for a while, I couldn’t just shut up and leave it at that. I noted the similarities in the names and MEANT to say, “I guess I’m really into books written by people named David.” What came out of my mouth was, “I guess I’m just into guys named David.”
Anna said nothing, just gave me that head-tilt of hers that says “Now, Jay, I know you’ve repeatedly said you’re straight, but don’t you remember that my husband is named David, your roommate is named David, and one of your regular on-line sparring partners is also named David? Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”
Sigmund Freud, kindly wrap your cigar in your slip and shove it up your anal-retentive tendencies.
I think I really need to spend less time talking to Anna…