Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Chocolate Covered Bomos
It’s not easy being me.
I’m a bonehead. I love people, and yet, I get nervous around strangers and in crowds. Even when that crowd consists of people I know and love, I occasionally feel tense and edgy. But it’s not the people who cause me anxiety. I have no one to blame for that but myself.
I get nervous because I’m a bonehead.
History has proven that I cannot trust myself to be suave. To be cool, or witty, or sophisticated. For those of you who have a personal relationship with me, I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. I simply can’t seem to help myself. Unless I am completely and totally alone, I cannot be trusted to escape saying or doing something ignorant. Something embarrassing.
My intentions are always good. I never mean to talk like an idiot. I never plan to let a naughty word slip. I never intend to insult anyone! But when I am nervous, my mouth has a mind of its own, and that mind isn’t mine! In fact, I sometimes wonder if I haven’t been possessed by a rogue psyche. Maybe Joan Rivers? Ugh.
I’ve been watching what I eat in an attempt to lose weight. That’s nothing new. What woman doesn’t want to lose a little excess poundage? Recently I’ve had some success, but I fall off the wagon frequently. One recent morning I stopped at Trantens’ Store for some candy to fill the dish at the office. As I walked past the chocolate covered peanuts, a bag jumped into my basket and before I knew it, I’d purchased it.
I put it in the pocket of my jacket. I had every intention of taking it home to my husband, who loves chocolate covered peanuts. Truly, I’ve never been a big fan of them. But I am a dieting woman. And I had a pocket full of chocolate. That is a force of nature beyond reckoning. Once I had that confection in my possession, there was no way in this world I was going to share one single little nut with Mr. Grumbles. They absolutely had to be gone before I reached home, where I might be tempted to share.
So, I ate them. The whole bag. For breakfast. Yum.
That was last week. That same day, after work, I went up the road to do a bit of target practicing. Two separate and completely different events–snacking on junk food and shooting at cans–conspired to set me up for my latest Bonehead Moment.
I was almost ready to leave the office yesterday when a stranger walked through the door. As always, I greeted him and we chatted as we got to know each other. It’s the Maine way. A stranger can walk into your life and a half an hour later, leave as your friend. How delightful.
This particular gentleman and I somehow began talking a bit about politics. That’s always enjoyable, and gets the blood flowing. I especially love it when my partner in conversation has views and opinions that differ from mine. Sometimes I learn a lot and can see an issue from a new perspective. And sometimes, I manage to bring my new acquaintance around to my way of thinking. What fun!
Since I had been preparing to leave the office, I had my jacket on. The fellow and I talked on and on; debating, agreeing, differing, laughing, commiserating. My concentration was on our animated conversation. That’s my only excuse. My hand was in my coat pocket, and I felt the presence of some stray chocolate covered peanuts that had obviously escaped the open bag and fallen loose into my pocket. A bonus, when I thought they were all gone! I scooped them up and popped them into my mouth.
I don’t know why I did that. I don’t usually eat in the middle of a conversation. At work. Standing in the middle of the lobby. In front of a stranger. But I did.
I chewed. I chewed again. Something wasn’t right. There was something wrong with the texture of one of the nuts. It was soft and squishy, but tough. And it refused to be chewed up.
And then it hit me. With my tongue I pushed the offending nut to the front of my mouth and plucked it from between my lips. I looked at it. I felt a wave of heat wash up my neck and over my face. I raised my eyes to my companion, who had stopped midsentence to stare in awe at this magnificent specimen of intelligence and sophistication standing before him.
I held in my hand a chocolate covered ear plug. A used chocolate covered ear plug. One that had been in MY EAR last week, as I fired away at a saw horse lined with a coffee can, a spray starch can, and a couple of 12 ounce Bud empties.
And I’d tried to eat it. Failed. Spit it out in front of a stranger. A stranger who was smart, and witty, and none too shabby looking, either.
Damn. Bonehead Moments. My specialty. I don’t think Bomos are contagious, but one never knows, really. The only thing I know for sure is that there is no cure for me. I’ve been afflicted with this particular brand of idiocy from childhood. It never gets better, and it never goes away. Sometimes it goes into remission, incubates, hibernates… storing up energy so that when I let it loose again, it is glorious, strong, and full of renewed vigor. Completely prepared to bring me to the depths of humiliation. If there’s one thing I’m really, really good at, it’s executing the perfect Bonehead Moment.
Aw, shucks. It’s nothing, really.
Yeah. Chocolate covered, once-used ear plugs. They’re not all they’re cracked up to be. In fact, they taste like chicken.
This is not a photo of chocolate-covered anything; really, it's not. It's just a picture for Ali g's perusal...
And this photo is of the rare Poo-birds found most often on the shores of Mooselookmeguntic Lake in the Rangeley Lakes region of western Maine (but visiting my desktop this evening...)