I had a dream last night where I was presented with reviews from all my co-workers at the previous job. One person said I was “too drunkenly”–hey, it was a dream, so language kinda goes all over the place–and another said I was frequently 8 minutes late. I remember being struck at how ludicrous it all was because I almost never drink and I opened the place each morning long before anyone else got in and long before my actual starting time. That and I never received an evaluation of any kind while I was there. Was this dream therefore pointing to my curiosity at how other people sometimes perceive me?
And yes, I’m still ignoring what I was originally going to write about on Monday and then for today. It’ll happen next week. Maybe.
Three conversations recently made me wonder just what it is I’m putting out there in the universe. The first happened on Facebook a week ago when someone was aghast that I’d actually be considering adopting a child. I wasn’t. I was being sarcastic. So when I asked why it was such an awful idea, he responded with “Aren’t you the same guy who’s always talking about how horrible his partner is?” Pookie? Awful? Hardly! He’s the George Burns to my Gracie Allen, the Abbott to my Costello, the nuts to my chocolate… Huh. Okay, that last analogy didn’t quite work like I thought it would. I was going for the whole peanut butter cup thing. Moving along…
I honestly don’t think there’s anybody who knows us who believes he’s horrible. He’s charming, witty, giving and he puts up with me. He’s also his Grandmonster’s grandson, so I’m certain he’s plotting with her to take over the world. By his side isn’t exactly a bad place to be, is it? And why would I ever badmouth that? My response to the person who asked if I’m the guy talking about how horrible my hubby is was a simple “Look, everything that comes out of my mouth should be considered sarcastic…except when it’s not.” It summed everything up perfectly, don’t you think?
The second conversation happened with Pookie when we were in Manhattan for my honorable adopted little brother’s wedding. We’d just spent several hours walking around on July 4th and were returning to the hotel when we passed a sushi place we’d gone to last February during the week of our own wedding. There was a sign taped to the outside of the door that I thought was cute just because it was what it was. Sure, it can be argued that it furthers a stereotype. Whatever. I reached for my phone to take a picture and the hubs freaked out in embarrassment.
“Oh, don’t correct it!”
Huh? Apparently, I strike him as someone who would use the pen I carry around with me and make corrections to someone else’s sign. I don’t even do that to him unless he asks–and he does ask me to. But I’ve never just gone up to something and corrected it like that before. Why did he think I would? Still kinda puzzled about that one. Maybe he was just overtired. And crabby. He gets that way after he’s had Korean chicken and been proven wrong.
Finally, some friends and I went out to dinner last Sunday during my 72 hours of being ridiculously social and a bizarre conversation ensued. For some reason, if someone is right-handed (as I am and as my friend Andrew who sat next to me is), people assume you use your right hand to…you know…do the guy thing to yourself. So not true! First of all, the nuns who raised me would be aghast to ever even think I’d partake in the pleasures of the flesh, let alone my own. Second, I use my left hand, thank you, and so does Andrew. I did have to use my right for a couple months when I had a cast on my left hand back in high school. Let me tell you that it was an absolute nightmare. The doctor told me to take it easy using my left hand once it was out of the cast. Bullshit! We had to make up for some lost time.
So, I apparently think my guy is horrible, I correct flawed business signs and I use my left hand to go Han Solo on Darth Vader’s head. It’s just all sorts of wrong, but I’ll ask.
Anybody else have anything they’d like to add to the list?
Kage Alan is the Lockout watching, Alphaville listening author of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Sexual Orientation,” “Andy Stevenson Vs. the Lord of the Loins” and the first book in a separate series, “Gaylias: Operation Thunderspell.” He discovered yesterday that Gillian Anderson is going to be at DragonCon! Talk about geeked. She’s definitely on the list of people he’d like to meet before it gets too ridiculous that he attends conventions at a certain age. More Botox could be called for.