Friday, September 17, 2010

Maybe the filter's broken

I guess I should apologize for my lack of posting over the last week. My mom was visiting for five days, so I spent the first half of the week drinking pinot on the couch and watching Tosh.0 with her every night and since she's left I've had a serious case of sour belly. If it wasn't that time of the month right now, I would have convinced myself I was pregnant, like, two days ago. But it's probably just cancer. So phew.

But don't worry, this is NOT going to be another post about my vagina because according to B, I have some kind of filter problem. It's called honesty, B.

But recently, I've started to think that maybe he's right. Maybe I do have a filter problem. Case in point:

B and I were walking the dog a few weeks ago when we passed a family who was also out for an evening stroll. Mom, dad, and two adorable little blond girls ... on leashes. One girl started pointing at Rooney and squeeling from across the street, so I crossed over to let her pet him. After a few minutes of polite chit chat, a car appeared from around the bend, going too fast for my comfort. Most streets in my town do not have sidewalks, and speed limits seem pretty high in my opinion for a residential neighborhood. Since moving here, I've become that person who runs into the front lawn so I can shake my fist at drivers if I feel they're going down my street too fast. While running, I routinely make the universal "slow the fuck down" sign with my hands as cars zip past me while catching their attention with a well-timed. "YO, asshole."

As this car approached, I pulled Rooney in on a tight leash and said, "hold on to your leashes, everyone."

Honestly, I expected a laugh. At least a little chuckle. So when I got nothing but a blank stare, I made a hasty retreat back across the street.

When I got there, B was all "what did you say that got you that look?" And when I told him, he did that head shake that everyone's dad does when once again you've brought the family shame.

B: Jesus, Bridget, really? These people are our neighbors, you can't say inappropriate things like that.

Me: B, their children are on leashes and I'M the inappropriate one?

B: I'm sure they're very nice people and now they'll never like us because you'll always be the girl who made fun of their leashes.

Me: I wasn't actually make fun of them. I was just commenting that they should hold them tightly. I was protecting them.

B: Right, hold them tight like a dog.

Me: Exactly.

End scene.

So there's that. In my opinion? That comment did just sort of slip out before I had much time to process, BUT if you're going to be weird enough to walk your children around the neighborhood like little golden retrievers, then you should be prepared when the blond neighbor who you once saw passed out on her lawn comments as such.

Another example you say? Okay. The very same weekend of the Leashes Incident, we were over our friends' house after a long day of sipping beers on the beach, which we continued well into the evening by sipping beers next to the fire pit in the backyard. Later that night a few more of our friends arrived, one of whom has just dyed her hair from light blond to dark brown. Now, I'm friends with this girl and I like her very much, but I'm still relatively new in town. Not everyone has been fully exposed to my poop stories, public farting, and general neurosis. [Side note: my goodness there are an awful lot of posts that come up when I search for "anxiety" on here.]

After I welcomed everyone, this friend replies, "oh I'm surprised you recognized me with my new hair!" To which I put down my beer, looked her in the eyes and responded, "I would recognize those boobs anywhere," before going back to my conversation without batting an eyelash.

In my defense, there was a lot of beer working against my filter that day and I still don't remember saying this, though half of our town has affirmed it. That's the problem with living in a small town. You let a few things slip and all of a sudden you're the girl who passes out on your lawn and occasionally says what could be interpreted as assholish things to random people. God, I am such a good neighbor.


Jess said...

I think you and I were separated at birth. I am always saying things to people that make my boyfriend cringe. Maybe it's a Philly thing.

Becky Mochaface said...

What was so wrong about the recognizable boobs? You would think she'd take that as a compliment. Hell I would if they were so awesome that they were recognizable no matter what plastic surgery botched jobs I had.

rory said...

So did the couple walking their kids on a leash have poop bags?
Just wonderin'

Lora said...

Um, sounds like you aren't the one with the problem. Kids on leashes? Hair dos that must be mentioned? Shyness about a great rack?

Sounds like people I don't want to know.

ɹǝƃƃolquǝʞoʇ said...

I laughed at it twice and I prolly woulda said the same thing.

I get the leash thing with toddlers --- they are just not trustworthy when it comes to crowds and traffic, but I still woulda thought it was funny.

rory said...

Bridget-send me an e-mail. How did/does the white ink work on your tat? Does it darken as you tan? Miss Carol and me and maybe her little sister are thinking about getting another tattoo and I'm curious.


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