FOOT IN THE MOUTH

The Old Girl doesn't often make mistakes but when she does they can be real doozies.

These often take the form of indiscrete statements or 'Foot in the Mouth' comments.

"put your foot in your mouth"




To put Your Foot In Your Mouth ( say something embarrassing ... )

You "put your foot in your mouth" when you say something that makes a person feel embarrassed. Example: "Last night I was telling a joke, and I really put my foot in my mouth. I had no idea I was talking about Rob's wife." You can imagine how embarrassed you would feel and how funny you would look if you actually "put your foot in your mouth." Example: "I am so embarrassed. Are you sure he could hear me when I was talking in the next room?" Reply: "Yes. You really put your foot in your mouth." Note: The word "foot" is always singular when you say "foot in your mouth". Example: "Let's all be very careful what we say at the meeting tomorrow. I don't want anyone putting their foot in their mouth." When you say something which makes someone feel embarrassed or causes an embarrassing situation, you have "put your foot in your mouth."

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Here are some memorable ones that The Old Girl has come out with:

1. The work colleague.

Some time ago one of my executive colleagues was engaged to a real prat. This guy, the prat, was full of himself - a preening 'look at me' type - probably a narcissisist. At a company function in a very large venue, as The Old Girl and I were circulating and making polite conversation we spoke to my colleague who was on her own. We said "where's So and So (the fiancee)?". The Colleague put on a sad face and said "I've lost him". The Old Girl immediately said "never mind, he was a jerk, you're better off without him". The colleague looked at her quizzically and said "I've lost him in the room somewhere - he was over there before". We beat a hasty retreat with the Old Girl hiding her shamed face against my chest.

2. The business associates

A couple of years ago I was working on a project. The wife of the chairman of the project was a bit hoity-toity and The Old Girl didn't like her. At a dinner where all the people on the project were gathered we were sitting next to a project member and his wife. The Old Girl said to them "I'm pleased we're not sitting next to 'her highness' over there" pointing to the chairman's wife. I tried to kick her under the table but missed as I knew that these people were best friends of the chairman's wife.

3. The friend.

When having drinks with an old friend who has had some health problems, he told us that he was having some minor surgery to establish whether a lump was cancerous. The Old Girl said cheerfully "I guess the autopsy will show pretty quickly if it is clear or not". We all went quiet. She meant 'biopsy'.

Luckily our friend has a good sense of humour and we all laughed about the error.



The Old Girl. I love her and her quirks.

DARK CHRISTMAS

I don't really have much time for Christmas anymore. The fun has way gone out of it for me.
It's all about spending too much money, eating and drinking too much and spending time with people that you've managed perfectly well to avoid all year.

The 'Rules of Association' of CURMUDGEONS INC.ⓒ unfortunately dictate that I have to do what the other members are doing in the way of themes as set by THE CURMUDGEON.

Well, here's this.

Enjoy.

Or don't enjoy.

Whatever:


DARK CHRISTMAS

WELCOME TO THE MONKEYHOUSE

Governmental sanctioned euthanasia or ethical suicide is closer than you think.

Australia's Victoria State Upper House has passed a bill to legalise voluntary suicide.
The law will make it legal for doctors to assist in the death of the terminally ill and will return to the Lower House for a final vote.

In New Zealand 'End of Life Choice' polls have shown that Kiwis support the idea of the terminally ill having the choice to end their life although when bills have been presented to Parliament they have been defeated and as a consequence voluntary euthanasia is illegal in New Zealand.

The Netherlands and Belgium have had legalised assisted suicide for over 20 years and while it still spurs debate there is no evidence demonstrating that the Netherlands has a greater rate of non-voluntary or involuntary euthanasia than other Western countries. 

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In Vonnegut's short story Welcome To The Monkey House an Orwellian future society that has population problems has made birth control mandatory and in fact made taking drugs to eliminate the sex drive in total compulsory. The government also created voluntary suicide booths set up to offer a pleasant experience (in a non-pleasurable world) for those who took up the option. The resistance to this was a group who advocated birth control but wanted to eliminate the sex-drive suppression and get rid of the suicide booths. It was an OK story but bound up in the dodgy sexual mores of the 1970s.

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I don't have any moral objections to voluntary assisted suicide or, ethical suicide provided that all of the safeguards are in place ensuring that the choice is absolute and total and not influenced by mental illness or coercion. Most of the objections come from religious groups who claim that the individual doesn't have the right to end their life as their life doesn't belong to them but belongs to god. Well, what a lot of codswallop that is and is in line with all of the other arrogant and irrational thought and teachings that come from most religions.

If in the (increasingly near) future,  I have a debilitating and incurable illness and my physical and mental capabilities are to be severely limited then I reserve the right to choose when and how I 'pop my clogs'. No religious group and hopefully no government should stand in my way of that.

It has seemed that the legalisation and normalisation of this are way in the future in New Zealand but the Victorian Parliament's action last week might well be a breakthrough.

RETRIBUTION

Yes I've heard the news and no I won't talk about it.

Rest assured though that someone will pay for this. Pay dearly.

ROBERT AT MURRAY ROBERTS

Not quite the name and logo but almost

Richard of RBB, the custodian of that old blog RICHARD'S BASS BAG, in a recent comment on THE DARKER CURMUDGEON asked if there would be an expose of Robert in his days as a Murray Robert's delivery truck driver.

For those of you who are up to pace with modern media and who are followers of latest trends and the more fashionable side of social media, RICHARD'S BASS BAG is one of those old format blogs where the writer witters on about things he does during the day - gets up, goes to the toilet, drinks instant coffee, plays with himself plays solo music on his double bass etc. You get the picture. It's kind of like one of those old Smith's bookstore and stationers, the ones that have now closed down or like a shabby community library where only derelicts hang out in to keep warm and pee in the corner.

Anyway, I've wracked my brains to think of things that Robert did as a delivery driver - the memory is a bit fuzzy, but here goes:

Careless driving one

Once Robert was driving the small Bedford truck in Newtown, near the Winter show buildings.
He had just done a delivery to the John Street council flats and had to collect a lot of empty bottles in soggy cartons. He wasn't pleased and drove faster than he should have. when he hit a bump in the road several of the cartons 'jumped out' from the back of the truck and the contents smashed on the ground, scaring pedestrians. Robert hurriedly stopped the truck in the middle of the road and picked up the bigger pieces of glass and cardboard, threw them onto the back of the truck and drove on.

Careless driving two

Once Robert was driving the large flat-deck Bedford down from the Hataitai tunnel to the Basin Reserve. As the lights were green and just turning yellow he accelerated and took the turn left, mounting the footpath and scattering pedestrians. Robert drove on back to base in Adelaide Road.





Drinking and driving

On Saturday afternoons the biggest delivery was to the James Cook hotel where usually a full truckload of beer and some spirits and soft drink was delivered. The beer was always DB Export in cartons of 24 bottles. After unloading and carrying the cartons up stairs to the store room Robert would accept a free beer and sit down enjoying it knowing that his co-workers would be flat out back at base. Robert didn't care.

Tagging

Once Robert wrote "STEVE IS A BRIKEHEAD" on one of the the walls in the warehouse. Robert thought that he did this anonymously but every one knew it was him by the misspelling.


Vandalism

Robert used to throw the glass marker pens at the walls and celing of the warehouse to make 'Jackson Pollock' - like splashes.

Pinching

Bruce said to take a bottle of wine home to try with tea and learn about wine. Bruce meant a decent New Zealand or Australian wine. Willy, 2IC re-interpreted and instructed that as cheap New Zealand wine like Baco 22A (about 99c. a bottle). Robert ignored both of those instructions and took home Chateaux Margaux.

Skiving

Robert used to stop off during deliveries and do his washing at a laundromat in Hataitai. He used to sit and study his university books for about an hour and a half while the clothes were washing and drying. The delivery truck was parked outside on the yellow lines.


That's just from the 'top of the head'.
No doubt Richard could add some. We could actually ask Robert but I feel that his memory might be dodgy.

THE KING IS WORRIED

KINGS

The King hasn't been sleeping well recently. The King (self-proclaimed) was leader of The White Sport Coat and Pink Carnation Society (WSCPCS) back at university in the 1970s (yes Robert - the 1970s). The King has been watching recent news reports that are exposing sexual abuse by men who have had positions of power over the last 50 years or so. Hollywood moguls, British politicians, actors, businessmen, news gurus - everywhere women (and some men) are coming out and laying complaints against these people for assaults that go back many years.

The King is worried.

Unnecessarily so.

If the King was to exercise his memory properly he would remember that the WSCPCS was spectacularly unsuccessful in attracting nubile young women, or indeed any women, to its social activities. There was zero chance that the King had got his hands on, or even his eyes on a woman.

He is safe and should sleep properly.

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The Curmudgeon can sleep properly.

DON'T TAKE YOUR GUNS TO (VOGEL)TOWN SON......

........ LEAVE YOUR GUNS AT HOME GLENN.

The As  lived up Moffitt Street, a little bit further away than the 'Vogeltown Boys' but on occasion would join us in after school games.
The two boys, Gary and Glenn were about the same age as us - in this story about 8  - but always seemed to have more and better toys, clothes, sports gear etc. than us. They were working class as well but their dad was a taxi driver so maybe, being a cash business he skimmed and didn't pay as much tax as the rest of our dads.

More likely though was that he was making money in the (gasp) underworld.
Old man A went to prison for 'helping to procure an abortion'. I don't know what the exact charge was but it was one of those that featured in The Truth the salacious weekly news rag of the day.

Mum used to tell dad off for buying this so he kept it in his truck where my brother and I would sneak a read.
Being a taxi driver meant that A senior would have made extra money from taking customers to illegal drinking establishments and brothels as well. This is how Gary and Glenn had all the goodies.

One day, as I said when we were about 8 we'd been playing cowboys and Indians and the As, as usual, had all the gear. They had cowboy hats, vests and 'chaps' with frills. They also had guns and holsters. These guns weren't the crappy plastic ones that the rest of us owned. These were made of metal. The only plastic was the white grip covering. The guns had heft - weight and size and had revolving chambers that could carry six caps that actually worked. The gun belts were made of leather and the holsters (each kid had two) actually held the guns properly.
They must have cost a fortune.


The next morning, before school, I was mooching around trying to delay going to school as long as I could when I saw one of these guns lying in the grass. I went and picked it up. It was wet with the morning dew and I remember thinking how bad it was for Gary or Glenn to not look after such a valuable item - I'd never do that - and then found the matching gun. I was about to take them up to the house so we could return them but then thought no, they didn't deserve them I hid them in the garage instead.

After school I sneaked them out and played with them on my own as I couldn't tell anyone about having them. The next day Mrs A came to our house asking if we'd seen the guns. I denied having seen them of course. Mrs A didn't seem satisfied but couldn't prove anything though. I think she thought that my poor mother was involved in the theft which is unfair of her - well, unfair of me really. I kept the guns but discovered that it wasn't much fun playing with them surreptitiously and eventually lost interest. I also felt guilty.

I can't remember what happened to these toys as I soon outgrew them. For a while I felt bad about keeping them but being a kid, that didn't last that long. I don't know if I confessed in the confessional. I usually only made stuff up to please the priest in those days

CONFESSIONS

THE DARKER CURMUDGEON will deal with issues, memories and things of interest that are unsuitable to or inappropriate for the other blogs in the CURMUDGEON family.

Some of these may well be confessions of actions or thoughts from the past.

Please note that THE CURMUDGEONS (soon to be incorporated as CURMUDGEONS INCⓒ) are considerate to readers by separating out posts and publishing them under the suitable 'family name' without resorting to the use of bizarre alter-egos nor cobbling them together in a confusing manner under the one blog heading.

CONFESSIONS will be elaborated further in future posts but some examples of these will be:

 

• What really went on at The White Sport Coat and Pink Carnation Society 
• A day in the life of a delivery driver at Murray Robert's Wines and Spirits 
• Growing marijuana in suburban Wellington 
• Learning about wine through appropriation 
• Memories of girlfriends past through music 
• Stealing the neighbours cowboy guns when I was a kid 
• Making up 'sins' in the confessional at school 
• Pretending to be not at home when kids come to the door on Halloween night 

Yes, I can see that these will be very exciting but you will have to be patient as I have responsibilities to the other blogs including the three WINE GUY blogs. Busy, busy, busy.

STARTING UP