I do not know what it is but I CANNOT not say the most inappropriate thing to FIL. Whatever the topic, I seem to have to steer it into that awkward area where words come out that you should never say to your Father-in-law. Like ever. For example, FIL has a recovering wound on his leg. He would say pimple but I saw it and it was a wound, a very big recovering wound. Anyway, he has been given something to put on said wound, “Silver something…” he said and he was searching for the word and I jumped in with, “Oh, Silver Nitrate.” And the conversation should have stopped there. But I felt to add that I’d been given Silver Nitrate last year. But I didn’t say it like that and stop. No, I said, “I was given that last year when I was having issues with my yay-hoo. And given isn’t the right word. She squirted it up in my and it essentially burned the insides. And the worst is that she didn’t tell me what happens when Silver Nitrate burns your insides is that those chunks have to come out…” You get the idea. The WRONG thing to say to your father-in-law. And, I might add, we were in my teeny tiny Smart car so there was no pretending I didn’t say that or that he didn’t hear it. And instead of feeling remorse, I was just giggling about it. And I should have, I could have stopped there. Normal sane people stop there. But I chose to tell FIL that my gynecologist’s name was Dr. Cox and that I had a friend who’s last name was Bottoms and ask him what a penis doctor was called. WHILE WE WERE STILL IN THE SMART CAR. Yup. I did that. And then I did worse. That night, I revisited the time I said “ERECTION” really loudly and thrust my hand into the air in his front parlor just after his wife had died. And that I won a year subscription to a theatre company – the same one with the naked part - for telling that most awkward family situation story. You can read the story here but the quick take-away from the story is that you should never tell a Billy Connolly joke to your possible in-laws when someone has just died. It might actually just be best to never tell a Billy Connolly joke to your in-laws. Ever. So for some reason, I decide to revisit this story as we’re walking into a restaurant. Husband elbows me with the universal “Shut up!” sign that all married couples know and love and slides into the wall side of the booth. Only I don’t shut up. I can’t. I cannot stop it. I get the giggles and I press on with the story, Husband is trapped between the wall and me. FIL professes he doesn’t’ remember the story. I say loudly “Of course you don’t. Your wife had just died.” AND THEN I KEEP TALKING! I have something seriously wrong with me! Husband elbows me again. Harder. I keep talking. I shorten the story. I shorten the joke. But I still manage to get the word “Erection” in there AND thrust my arm up in the air. Husband is mortified. FIL is ignoring me by reading the menu. I’m still talking. “And then,” I say, “Husband just left the room leaving me with you and APG (FIL’s sister-in-law) and my fist in the air!” And Husband says, quite loudly, “If I weren’t trapped by you and the wall, I’d have left this room too.” And I should feel some shame. I should be overcome with embarrassment. I should be telling myself to never speak again while FIL is here. But I know I will. And the stories will just get worse. I cannot help it. Even as I write this, I’m giggling myself silly. Tigger the Dog is worried, pacing around the room, checking up on me as tears run down my face. It’s very possible I have a problem that needs medical intervention. Or a gag. I think I could really use one of those. One that keeps my hands tied to my side while it keeps my mouth shut, please. Or this is going to be a long, loooong visit.
2 Comments
Jana
9/1/2014 11:26:52 pm
It sounds like you need a girls day!
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ej
9/2/2014 12:00:44 am
I need something, Jana!
Reply
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AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
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