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2006-08-18 - 4:13 p.m.

BJ’s Bloopers and Blunders

Volume IV

I am a social cretin!

If you plan to take me along on a social outing, be prepared to be shocked, embarrassed and sometimes down right traumatized! Taking me out in public is risky business! There are some brave—or foolish—souls, however, who continue to gallivant around with me. Diva being one of them. In my own defense, let me say at the outset, diva can create her own social messes, and she’s not above helping me dig myself deeper into the grave of public indiscretion.

Just this week, diva and I got ourselves tangled up in not one faux pas, but two, both involving lunch at restaurants. We blamed our latest dining-out gaffes not on our heathen, unrepentant lifestyle, but on our societal deprivation: We don’t often get to go out for lunch! We’re back at work now, students won’t arrive until next week, we have been given 90-minute lunch breaks between boring and pointless meetings both yesterday and today, and our diets have been history since last May—and by gawd we were going out to eat!

Yesterday we went to the Uptown café. A cramped, smoky greasy spoon that serves some of the best supersized, home cooked food in town. It was Rib Thursday! We grabbed one of the last tables open, settled in among the big boys and bubbas and ordered up the rib special. There’s no waiting on meals at the Uptown—our food was on the table in minutes—and we commenced to chow down like a couple of starved truckers. Two bites and diva had dropped a bit of her lunch on her t-shirt. She knew she’d dripped something somewhere, but couldn’t immediately see it.

I could.

“There,” I pointed across the table at the offending stain.

“Where?”

“Right there,” I pointed again. “On your titty!”

The waitress serving the table to my right turned and looked at us—then laughed. Good thing she laughed, she was a retired secretary for the Superintendent in the Central Office at the schools—and she goes to church with my sainted mother. The four middle-aged construction workers at the table were also staring at us. Oh, shit. I hung my head and apologized; what I wanted to do was slither under the table.

Both diva and I were restrained during the remainder of our lunch time. Not because of my big-mouthed calamity, but mostly because we were too busy shoveling in food to talk or create additional problems.

Today we went to China Palace and enjoyed the buffet. We managed to get through lunch without mishap. We fell into it when we left. We got into the wrong pickup truck outside the restaurant! It was an innocent mistake; we were walking and talking and the truck was almost just like mine. Only it wasn’t mine. But we didn’t realize that until we were sitting in it. For a couple of old, gray-haired broads, we can move gawdam fast when we have to!

We get another long lunch hour on Monday between even more boring and pointless meetings. We are going out for lunch then, too, but I doubt we have any public catastrophes. We’re taking my dear, sainted mother with us. Usually, she can keep us out of most major disasters!

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