January 06, 2005
Mr. Drillbit Is Mr. Observant
My mom is a hummer. No, not the ostentatious car, and not that other thing, you sick bastard. I mean, she hums. To herself. All. The. Time.
And when she's not humming, she's singing. Only, at 69, the words often elude her, so she's all "Doot doo-doot doooooooo" or "Goobie-goobie rompie-blompie boo!"
Seriously. I can't make this shit up, folks!
So Husband comes home from church and goes, "Can I just say something?"
Oooooh, I love it when he says that because it means he's about to say something mean. Which is awesome because it's so rare. (I know, you're now wondering, "How the hell did you two end up together?" Honestly, I have no fucking clue.) So I pull up a chair, fold my hands and wait anxiously for his something.
My boss has a form of this, too. He's an old-fashioned Southern gentleman, like many of the men I work with, and therefore gracious to a fault. But every once in a while, he'll go, "I don't mean to be ugly, but..."
Which cracks me UP! Because of course he means to be ugly! Of course he means to be mean! It's the whole point of completing that very sentence!
"I don't mean to be ugly, but... the C.E.O. from Virginia looks like she's been ridden hard and put away wet."
But he somehow thinks that, if he leads with "I don't mean to be ugly," he's not really being obnoxious. It's kind of charming, actually.
So Husband is like, "Can I just say something?"
And I'm like, "Of course!"
And he goes, "Have you ever noticed that your Mom... hums?"
I nearly peed the kitchen chair laughing. He has known the woman for twenty years! And he's only now noticing the humming?! What the -- ?! But she -- ?! It's so -- ?! GAAAAAAAAAAAH!
The man just kills me sometimes.
Like when we were lying in bed chatting a few nights ago, and he looks at me and goes, "You know, you're kind of... bitter."
BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
Jesus! Where has this man been?! Totally slays me.
And again, no idea how we ended up together. But so glad we did, since he got up at 5:30 this morning so that I could get my warmed-up, scraped-off truck smoothly out of our snow-plowed driveway. The man is a saint.