I suffer from an amazing case of “foot in mouth”, it seems like it never fails. Some of the causes are: I can’t shut up, I think I’m clever, when I drink I think I’m really clever, and one side of the family is sarcastic and insensitive, I’m talking at a Scottish level.
I can shove my foot in my mouth on the phone, in person, and while texting; I’m sure I do it all the time while blogging. It boggles the mind. Let me give you some examples to send you into your weekend feeling like you’re better than at lease one guy on the internet!
In film school we would make short “films” and then, twice a month, we would have a screening where you could show your visual train wreck to the class and then listen to them critique it. It was emotionally trying on a good day. On a bad day you stumbled out of the class trying to stuff your guts back under your shirt before anyone noticed you’d been eviscerated. This is how creative angst is born.
There was one woman who was older than most of us and, one day, she screened an artsy film featuring a pair of twin girls.
My critique went something like this:
“Well I think it was a little confusing, and really creepy. It was probably the twins, even without The Shining coloring my opinion, there is still something really creepy about twins. Especially twin girls. I mean you just know one of them is bound to be evil…” I shrugged, thoughtfully. “Actually ya know what, great job, I love creepy. But you gotta tell me, where did you even find such creepy looking twins?”
Her response, after a long pause. “They’re mine.”
We never spoke again, even though she was in several of my classes for the next couple of years.
Enjoying my awkwardness? Good here’s more.
Last night I was texting with a guy I know named Skinny. We are not close, but we occasionally work together and I was trying to put together a group for golf. Here is the transcript from my phone:
S: “Yo Whiskey, can’t make it tomorrow hopefully next time”
W: “Did you stub your vag?”
S: “Hahahaha unfortunately I’m out of town. My mother died”
He was not screwing with me.
So to wrap this up, the next day I am playing disc golf with my friend Laz. We are on the 11th basket at Verdugo Hills and chatting away having a good time. Then this comes out of my yapper.
W: “Hey have you ever seen Dumb Ways to Die?”
L: “No, what is it like some Faces of Death thing?”
W: “No it’s this funny song about stupid ways to die, like hiding in a clothes dryer.”
L: “Oh that sounds kinda dark.”
W: “Well its set to a cartoon of cute Mr Men type things getting killed, and it has a positive angle because it was created as a PSA so people don’t get killed by trains, ya know just illustrating dumb ways to die.”
L: “My brother killed himself with a train.”
And once again, I’m “That Guy!”
So if you’re ever reading the blog (or more likely the FB page where MILK doesn’t bother to edit me) and you find yourself thinking wow, what a huge prick, try to remember that I say a lot of things. Really, just constantly mouthing off over here. Only 20% of them are truly offensive. That’s not bad, by today’s standards.