I seem to possess the most uncanny knack for saying something, and then having to retract my statement at a later date. I’m not talking about my chronic Foot-in-Mouthitis here, although I am pretty amazing at doing that, too, no it’s something else entirely, and there’s probably a 50 cent word for it that I don’t know (but my husband will gleefully point out later while trying not to act gleeful about it. Ass.).

Since I am unaware of what it is officially called, I’ll give you an actual sample of a real-life event and it’s consequences:

Me: “Wow, I guess since it’s so late, I’ll take the expressway home. There shouldn’t be any traffic at THIS time of night.”

(note for reader: I steadfastly refuse to take the highway unless someone else is driving, because I can totally sit in bumper to bumper traffic on a surface road AND THEN PULL OFF TO GRAB A DRINK. The highway makes me feel trapped AND IF I’M TRAPPED, I CAN’T HAVE A DRINKY-POO. And what would life be without drinky-drinks?)

(45 minutes later, while sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the highway, me cradling my head in my hands as I realize that the highway is undergoing construction (um…when is it not? No, really.) AT 1:30 IN THE MORNING ON A TUESDAY.)

Me (to myself, as I am alone)“Guess I shouldn’t have opened my big fat mouth.”

Without knowing another word, I will now call this Big Fat Mouth-opathy. I suffer from it daily, as my family well knows, and will attempt to stop my trap from yapping about these sorts of things.

Me: “I’m going to go to the gy….”

Dave (furiously gesturing at me, covering his mouth comically)“STOP, BECKY, BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!”

Me (completely oblivious to Dave, who merely looks as he does most mornings) “….m tonight/morrow”

Me (an hour later both children are vomiting and Dave has a migraine and has left me to fend for myself, covered in vomit and feeling nauseous as well): “Stupid fucking fat mouth. IDIOT.”

The Universe, it seems, never tires of doing this to me.

About a month ago, we were out to lunch with lunch with my parents, and while walking back to our respective cars, we were approached by two neatly dressed women about my age. Of course, they were Mormons, but we were leaving so we didn’t stop to chat, but not before my dad could throw a “I don’t want to be like ‘Big Love'” comment their way. Oh SNAP, Dad.

Dave spent the remainder of our ride home laughing his balls off (I am, afterall, my father’s daughter, so my sense of humor is remarkably like his. And Dave, who appears to have no discernable sense of humor (oh, SNAP!) finds me hilarious and my father even more so. Mainly because he cannot believe that people would ever SAY such things. Especially PARENTS.), while I mused OUT LOUD at how odd it was that when I lived across the river with my parents, there were always people trekking door to door to tell you about Jesus, or whomever, but on THIS side of the river, we’ve not had a SOUL come by.

Expecting that it was my jonesing-for-Wii-fix neighbor this afternoon (and trying to figure out how to delicately tell him that no, he couldn’t borrow the Wii today either, sorry.) when the doorbell rang, I was shocked to find two young women on my front stoop. Who wanted to do a Bible Study with me. When my jaw returned from falling down on my doorstep, I had to politely excuse myself.

Although I have read the Bible from cover to cover (can you believe it? No one ever can. But to be honest, it was for a class. In school. And I certainly don’t know it well enough to debate it. Nor would I.), I am not interested in discussing my religious feelings with anyone really, especially not two Jehovah’s witnesses. I couldn’t handle the thought of hurting their poor, sweet, wholesome feelings (dude, they were WHOLESOME LOOKING!) when I expressed that not only have I received blood products from a blood bank on a semi-regular basis, I HAVE DONATED BLOOD TOO. AND, I’m missing some organs (nothing too grand, though, don’t worry).

It appears as though the Universe is mocking me. Not maliciously, no, but absolutely reminding me that no matter what, you are not in charge. I’d mock back at the Universe, but I’m afraid of what will happen to (insert anything I care about here). Does this happen to anyone else out there?

So yeah, Universe, you win again. Now can you PLEASE call off the Jehovah’s Witnesses?



4 Responses to Universe: 5,471, Becky: 0

  • Karen says:

    The Jehovah’s Witnesses came to my door a few months ago while I was painting the dining room and I promised to listen to them if they helped me finish the painting. No dice. Apparently, helping people paint isn’t part of the mission.

  • becky says:

    Nice, Karen! I can’t believe they didn’t talk to you WHILE painting! I remember an ex-boyfriend of mine once told them that if they came back with cookies he’d talk to them.

    I’m too uncomfortable talking religion with people who both know more than me AND have an agenda, so I just hide from them whenever possible. It’s strange, although without prompting these people want to tell me the word of The Lord, but I’m too shy to discuss this with them BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO MAKE THEM FEEL BAD. WHICH, IF YOU THINK ABOUT IT, IS EXACTLY WHAT THEY’RE DOING TO US (because if they’re right, that means that we are wrong)!

    I dunno. We may have to invest in those windows that flank the doors with the wavy glass.

  • Pauline says:

    I’m with you on the universe thing. It never ceases to mock me. As soon as I say “Oh I think I’ll…” Well, you know the rest. Let me know if you find some anti-universe potion out there.

  • becky says:

    Right on, P-Funk. I’ll work on that.

    Hey, at least it’s not overly malicious…


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