10 March 2013
640
R. Linda:
Yesterday morning we woke up to a strange light in the sky. It was the sun! It's been weeks since we've seen that gaseous orb and the sky was actually BLUE instead of grey! When I went outside to get me morning paper, it wasn't WET! It was dry on the porch, no plastic covering needed and the air was a balmy 43 F. I was thinking I was dreaming.
I came inside the house in a state of shock. I mean this is rare weather because lately it has been snowstorm after snowstorm. We just got hit with another foot the day before yesterday, but the good news is IT BE MELTING! (The bad news -- an ice storm coming!)
But me enjoyment was cut short. Yes, it was. A week ago, one of Tonya's teacher friends asked if she could "borrow" yours truly for a father/daughter etiquette lesson which was part of some Brownie Scout thing. Since Annette be a single mam she needed a male to accompany little Brenda to this . . . this . . . girly event.
And of course, Tonya volunteered me without asking as usual. So the one sunny day I get to enjoy outdoors, I get to spend indoors at a . . . a . . . I dunno, a tea party? Yeah, that's the best I can come up with.
So I got meself dressed as required, suit jacket and tie (and it wasn't even a work day!) and off I went to Annette's house to pick up my diminutive charge for the morning. Let me say a few words about little Brenda before I go on. This child has jet-black hair and the palest complexion I've ever seen on a child. She looks like a mini vampire and usually the expression on her face goes with the look. This makes for a rather startling impact upon first seeing her. In your world, think Wendy Addams.
Brenda also be a chatterbox. She's very self-confident and has no qualms telling you what she thinks of things. The one thing I cannot abide by is a small child telling me the way of it. Yes, indeed. She's very versed on current events and such (well, mam be a school history teacher so there you go). She once walked up to an adult conversation about South and North Korea with this gem, "We need to keep our noses out of South Korea's business and take care of our own selves." Her mam encouraged her to go on and she pulled up a chair and delivered her seven-year-old opinion more like a ten-year-old's opinion, when, if she were my child I would have sent her on her way to play and get her mind off things that could psychologically scare the bejesus out a wee mind. But no, no, not done in Annette's house, if you have an opinion you are entitled to it. SIGH.
Picture five adults at table, with a 7-year-old telling them how it is. YEE-AH.
Anyway, I picked up her lip-flapping self, and it was the first time I'd seen her in a party dress. It was deep purple with lilac lace and crystal beading down the front. Her mam made it. She looked like she was ready for tea at Downton Abbey. I jokingly called her Lady Brenda and she liked it, telling me from now on I was to address her as such. I tell ya!
So off we go, I have me GPS on to get us to this Victorian great house which, once again could have been the Addams Family abode. And of course, as soon as Lady Brenda saw it she was wowed into speechlessness (which was a good thing, but it only lasted three seconds). I was scared to go inside as I drove slowly down the gravel drive, the gravel crunching under me tyres, the house with its witches hat tower looming before me. I felt better when I got around the huge boxwoods and saw a lot of cars parked in the circle out front.
Wednesday Addams, I mean Lady Brenda saw some of her friends and took off to the front door with them, as the dads (who had never seen Brenda's father) thought I was him and gave me some strange looks. I knew what they were thinking, I had a child that resembled a vampire and was dressed way beyond her years in a colour more fitting a vampire wedding reception than an afternoon social tea. What was I to do? I wasn't about to explain myself, I didn't care so I just let them think what they would. The only comment about Lady Brenda that I got from one father was, "Your daughter seems excited for this, I know mine is. That's her Donna, I'm Jack McNaulty by the way," and he put out his hand and I said, "I'm Gabe O'Sullivan." And he paused for just a beat and then ignored politely that my "daughter" and I had different last names. Oi!
Well, if I thought that was the only odd moment I was to have, I was in for a rude awakening. There was a woman dressed in lavender with lace down the front (think more Downton Abbey, only for real), and she had a beaded eyeglass chain, a high lace collar with silhouette pin, her dress was almost to her ankles and she wore old lady shoes that matched her dress.
This woman was commanding in appearance and had all the young ladies in a line before her. She was saying that etiquette started at the front door and they were to wait for their "escorts" before being allowed inside. Well!
Once we were paired up with the appropriate child, we were allowed in by a mousy maid who had been hiding behind Mrs. Peabody, the commanding woman in lavender. We told the mouse who we were and she'd hand us to Mrs. Peabody by announcing our names.
Mrs. P put out two fingers for us to shake, yes she did. I don't know about you, but that in my book be an affront, but that's how it was done. Each child took the two fingers, and did a curtsy saying, "How do you do Madame." I was hoping I wouldn't have to curtsy and was relieved until I saw the men, half bowing to Mrs. Peabody. I was like WHAT? But I did it, I wasn't going to be the odd duck out, so I forced that head bob I did. Felt the right arse, but hey!
After everyone was in the door and the mouse had trapped us inside by closing it (I do wonder if she locked it as well), we were asked to come into the dining room. There we were gathered around the elegant table and were asked if anyone knew where the host and hostess sat. Hands went up, and little Miss Donna got to answer.
"The host sits at the table's head, and the hostess is at the foot."
"And why is that dear?" Mrs. P asked with a tolerant smile.
"Because in this day, the woman usually serves so she is closest to the kitchen and won't disturb her guests if she needs to get up and down."
"And?"
Miss Donna had nothin', no that was it. Looking tolerantly at the child, Mrs. P said, "AND, because when it is a family dinner the lady of the house always sits at the foot. HOWEVER, if it is a formal dinner, usually the host and guest of honour get the "heads" of the table, and the wife sits on the honoured guests right."
"Exactly so." Lady Brenda chirped and covered her mouth quickly but the damage was done, she spoke out of turn and everyone was looking at her, the only one not amused was Mrs. P. She chose to move on.
"Does anyone notice how the tablecloth is set? What about it is pronounced?"
No one had the answer but I knew the answer because me wife does the very same thing. She's crazy about that crease! I couldn't bring meself to answer because I did not want to be associated with Lady Brenda's da being a know-it-all just like her wee self.
"The linen is always pressed in lengthways half. That way the middle crease extends from the head of the table to the foot." And she smiled smugly. I wanted to say, "ME WIFE KNOWS THAT!" But I didn't, I behaved. But I did smile smugly to meself.
"Gentleman, would you seat your little ladies, you may find your seat by looking at the place cards."
Oh boy, I was in hell already and it was only three minutes in. Oi!
Once we were all seated, Mrs. P told us that the cutting knife was always facing inward toward the plate, and to face the cutting edge outward, "in times of old" (this said with a twitter -- me thinking she remembered those times being she had to be on the other side of a 100), signalled possible hostilities at the table. It was easier to grab your "weapon" with the cutting edge out so you could do away with your guest if they displeased you." Now that bit of info had Lady Brenda's eyes glittering in her head. I had to look long and hard at her because I thought, no, she can't be thinking this a nifty piece of information. But it was obvious she was savouring it.
"Excuse me," a timid voice piped up from a pretty little thing who half raised her hand and then thought better of it.
"Yes, dear?" The stodgy Mrs. P said with a slight smile of disapproval at being interrupted.
"What are all these spoons and forks for?" The pretty little finger pointed tentatively at the silverware.
"Well, dear what do you think they are for?" Mrs. P said condescendingly.
I noticed the wee thing's father squirming in his seat, he caught the feel of the answer and didn't like it, but looked around to see if he should say anything, but the amount of clearing of throats and running fingers around collars as if they were too tight, settled it. He was mum.
But not everybody was mum, no indeed, me wee partner in social mores put forth her opinion as be her usual way and we were off!
"Daphne, if you're in doubt what eating implement to use start from the outside and work your way in. Rule of thumb Daph." And then the unthinkable happened, Brenda snapped her gum.
All was quiet, and unfortunately, it was ME they were looking at, not Lady Brenda, so I piped up.
"Good advice." I mean what was I to do? Say what everyone was hoping I'd say, "SHUT UP BRENDA AND SPIT THE GUM OUT!" Nah, it was all getting to me fast and I for one was thinking Mrs. Peabody was too full of herself and yeah, you go girl (Brenda) and tell the old bat a thing or two.
I know, I know, I know! I be getting too carried away with me bad self. SIGH.
To keep the old bird from having a hissy fit I put me hand out and said in a low voice, "Gum please." To which it was taken out and handed to me. Then it was what to bloody hell do with it! I hadn't thought of that. I was trying to head off a confrontation that was going to be very opinionated on both sides and so now I had to think fast so I put it in me suit pocket. YES, I DID. Don't say a word.
"And so it is, but do you know a cream spoon from a gumbo spoon?" Mrs. P pointedly asked Wendy, I mean Brenda with a sly glint in her faded blue eyes. Ooh, an old lady challenge!
"Sheesh! Of course I do," the child rolled her eyes, and everyone looked aghast, and down at their laps. She picked up a large soup spoon and then a smaller one. She held up the large one and said, "THIS is a gumbo spoon," and then the smaller rounded one, "AND THIS is a cream soup spoon."
There was a low murmur around the table as I leaned towards Brenda and whispered, "How do you know that, I don't know that."
She cupped her hand to her mouth (the height of impoliteness I be sure) and whispered, "I read Emily Post last night so I wouldn't come off a fool!"
Wow.
"Well, OK then," I muttered back. All right I was somewhat impressed, but I saw Mrs. P looking indignant so then I muttered under my breath so Brenda could hear me, "You better tone it down or we are going to get kicked out of this joint."
"Oh Mr. O'Sullivan," the child said loudly, "YOU are so funny."
And of course, the attention was back on me, as if I was the one being impolite. I tell ya!
We were told that we should take our napkins as soon as our hostess took hers, that luncheon was about to be served. The old bat gently removed her napkin to her lap and watched everyone place their napkins and then tsked disapproval that we were not at a Burger King. She showed us the proper way to unroll the napkin, how to put it on your lap with points facing the proper direction and never, never, "Mr. Delaney shake it out like it is a sheet on a line." Yeah, Delaney's face went beet red on that remark. I bet he never does that again.
"And guys," piped up Brenda, "IF you happen to have a napkin ring it goes to the left of your plate."
The room was dead silent. Mrs. P sighed at the child's obnoxious talking out of turn and in a low undertone muttered to no one in particular, "Yes, that is right."
Thank the heavens but two men carrying covered trays came up dressed in livery. IT WAS DOWNTON ABBEY! I looked over the head of the child on me right at her father like, "What is this?" and he looked back at me like, "Really? seriously?"
We were told about serving from the left, clearing from the right, but Brenda had an opinion on that too.
"Modern dinners that are not formal where everything is prepared and not served from trays are served on the right."
"Oh my goodness!" Mrs. P blurted out, "Who are you?" And she near about threw her soup spoon down in frustration.
"She be me, daughter, for a day," I said to everyone's surprise. "She's not mine, but I be filling in, and yes, I be Irish and I talk like an Irishman, so me English isn't proper for the standards here, I be sure, but that aside, this has been truly a wonderful experience, and I know I talk for Brenda here, we are enjoying it like the bloody bollocks." And I picked up me soup spoon and I pushed the soup back to the other side of the plate (me mam taught me a table manner or two) and enjoyed me cream of asparagus soup with relish.
"Well, at least you know how to consume soup." Mrs. P said resigned she had two outlaws at her table. What she didn't say but I could hear her thoughts loud and clear, "Even if you are a low-life sad excuse for a table guest."
"I bet she wishes you were sitting next to her and her cutting knife was turned the other way," Brenda whispered in a giggle.
Yeah, I'll bet that too.
To say the rest of lunch went without incident would be a bold-faced lie. No, even before Mrs. Peabody could quiz the stupid people at the table and then correct their answers, the all-knowing Wendy, I mean Brenda, would cut her off with an "Excuse me, BUT . . . " and go into a tirade of modern etiquette versus Mrs. Peabody's old fashioned manners. By the time Wendy, I mean Brenda was done with the old bird, she couldn't get us out her door fast enough. It was goodbye, so nice, don't come back EVER! sort of leave-taking.
As we made our way to the motor, Brenda said, "Awesome Mr. O, that was so much fun!"
I was like really? THAT is your idea of a good time?
"Let's go celebrate with a juicy burger and some fries, I'm hungry after all that doo-doo." She suggested.
"Doo-doo?" I had to laugh, but to be honest after the meagre fare we were served (which I understand was just a lesson in proper manners at the table) I was famished. So I took her up on it and off we went to McDonald's. Where, if you please, the young lady popped her paper napkin with a flourish, put it next to her plate instead of her lap, and talked a mile a minute with her mouth full. Yeah, she learned a lot I'd say. I had to laugh. I sat there listening to her rattle on and I will say me opinion of Lady Brenda certainly has changed. She's delightful if not a little overbearing and taken in small doses she'd be great, except for the vampire look.
I dropped her off, told her mother we had a wonderful time and then I went home to . . . my wife on her knees trying to get the closet door unlocked, muffled screaming coming from inside the closet, the dog barking at the closet, the cat sitting on the chair top watching the commotion, and O'Hare standing in the naughty corner sobbing. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened.
It was a shock from the genteel setting even of Mcdonald's to come home to the usual chaos.
"Gabe, I think you will have to unscrew the hinges I can't get this open," Tonya said calmly. Well, she would be used to all this malarkey by now, wouldn't she? Okay, I said just as calmly since I be used to the shenanigans as well, and as I took me coat off (the chewing gum had sealed the pocket shut by the by) and placed me tie on top of it, I said to O'Hare, "I see we got our revenge for the headlock?" And he looked up at me and started laughing, yes he did, he was feigning those tears for his mother so she'd think he was atoning for his throwing his little bro in a closet than slamming the door that we all know if you slam it sticks shut. Oh yeah, home sweet home.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Yesterday morning we woke up to a strange light in the sky. It was the sun! It's been weeks since we've seen that gaseous orb and the sky was actually BLUE instead of grey! When I went outside to get me morning paper, it wasn't WET! It was dry on the porch, no plastic covering needed and the air was a balmy 43 F. I was thinking I was dreaming.
I came inside the house in a state of shock. I mean this is rare weather because lately it has been snowstorm after snowstorm. We just got hit with another foot the day before yesterday, but the good news is IT BE MELTING! (The bad news -- an ice storm coming!)
But me enjoyment was cut short. Yes, it was. A week ago, one of Tonya's teacher friends asked if she could "borrow" yours truly for a father/daughter etiquette lesson which was part of some Brownie Scout thing. Since Annette be a single mam she needed a male to accompany little Brenda to this . . . this . . . girly event.
And of course, Tonya volunteered me without asking as usual. So the one sunny day I get to enjoy outdoors, I get to spend indoors at a . . . a . . . I dunno, a tea party? Yeah, that's the best I can come up with.
So I got meself dressed as required, suit jacket and tie (and it wasn't even a work day!) and off I went to Annette's house to pick up my diminutive charge for the morning. Let me say a few words about little Brenda before I go on. This child has jet-black hair and the palest complexion I've ever seen on a child. She looks like a mini vampire and usually the expression on her face goes with the look. This makes for a rather startling impact upon first seeing her. In your world, think Wendy Addams.
Brenda also be a chatterbox. She's very self-confident and has no qualms telling you what she thinks of things. The one thing I cannot abide by is a small child telling me the way of it. Yes, indeed. She's very versed on current events and such (well, mam be a school history teacher so there you go). She once walked up to an adult conversation about South and North Korea with this gem, "We need to keep our noses out of South Korea's business and take care of our own selves." Her mam encouraged her to go on and she pulled up a chair and delivered her seven-year-old opinion more like a ten-year-old's opinion, when, if she were my child I would have sent her on her way to play and get her mind off things that could psychologically scare the bejesus out a wee mind. But no, no, not done in Annette's house, if you have an opinion you are entitled to it. SIGH.
Picture five adults at table, with a 7-year-old telling them how it is. YEE-AH.
Anyway, I picked up her lip-flapping self, and it was the first time I'd seen her in a party dress. It was deep purple with lilac lace and crystal beading down the front. Her mam made it. She looked like she was ready for tea at Downton Abbey. I jokingly called her Lady Brenda and she liked it, telling me from now on I was to address her as such. I tell ya!
So off we go, I have me GPS on to get us to this Victorian great house which, once again could have been the Addams Family abode. And of course, as soon as Lady Brenda saw it she was wowed into speechlessness (which was a good thing, but it only lasted three seconds). I was scared to go inside as I drove slowly down the gravel drive, the gravel crunching under me tyres, the house with its witches hat tower looming before me. I felt better when I got around the huge boxwoods and saw a lot of cars parked in the circle out front.
Wednesday Addams, I mean Lady Brenda saw some of her friends and took off to the front door with them, as the dads (who had never seen Brenda's father) thought I was him and gave me some strange looks. I knew what they were thinking, I had a child that resembled a vampire and was dressed way beyond her years in a colour more fitting a vampire wedding reception than an afternoon social tea. What was I to do? I wasn't about to explain myself, I didn't care so I just let them think what they would. The only comment about Lady Brenda that I got from one father was, "Your daughter seems excited for this, I know mine is. That's her Donna, I'm Jack McNaulty by the way," and he put out his hand and I said, "I'm Gabe O'Sullivan." And he paused for just a beat and then ignored politely that my "daughter" and I had different last names. Oi!
Well, if I thought that was the only odd moment I was to have, I was in for a rude awakening. There was a woman dressed in lavender with lace down the front (think more Downton Abbey, only for real), and she had a beaded eyeglass chain, a high lace collar with silhouette pin, her dress was almost to her ankles and she wore old lady shoes that matched her dress.
This woman was commanding in appearance and had all the young ladies in a line before her. She was saying that etiquette started at the front door and they were to wait for their "escorts" before being allowed inside. Well!
Once we were paired up with the appropriate child, we were allowed in by a mousy maid who had been hiding behind Mrs. Peabody, the commanding woman in lavender. We told the mouse who we were and she'd hand us to Mrs. Peabody by announcing our names.
Mrs. P put out two fingers for us to shake, yes she did. I don't know about you, but that in my book be an affront, but that's how it was done. Each child took the two fingers, and did a curtsy saying, "How do you do Madame." I was hoping I wouldn't have to curtsy and was relieved until I saw the men, half bowing to Mrs. Peabody. I was like WHAT? But I did it, I wasn't going to be the odd duck out, so I forced that head bob I did. Felt the right arse, but hey!
After everyone was in the door and the mouse had trapped us inside by closing it (I do wonder if she locked it as well), we were asked to come into the dining room. There we were gathered around the elegant table and were asked if anyone knew where the host and hostess sat. Hands went up, and little Miss Donna got to answer.
"The host sits at the table's head, and the hostess is at the foot."
"And why is that dear?" Mrs. P asked with a tolerant smile.
"Because in this day, the woman usually serves so she is closest to the kitchen and won't disturb her guests if she needs to get up and down."
"And?"
Miss Donna had nothin', no that was it. Looking tolerantly at the child, Mrs. P said, "AND, because when it is a family dinner the lady of the house always sits at the foot. HOWEVER, if it is a formal dinner, usually the host and guest of honour get the "heads" of the table, and the wife sits on the honoured guests right."
"Exactly so." Lady Brenda chirped and covered her mouth quickly but the damage was done, she spoke out of turn and everyone was looking at her, the only one not amused was Mrs. P. She chose to move on.
"Does anyone notice how the tablecloth is set? What about it is pronounced?"
No one had the answer but I knew the answer because me wife does the very same thing. She's crazy about that crease! I couldn't bring meself to answer because I did not want to be associated with Lady Brenda's da being a know-it-all just like her wee self.
"The linen is always pressed in lengthways half. That way the middle crease extends from the head of the table to the foot." And she smiled smugly. I wanted to say, "ME WIFE KNOWS THAT!" But I didn't, I behaved. But I did smile smugly to meself.
"Gentleman, would you seat your little ladies, you may find your seat by looking at the place cards."
Oh boy, I was in hell already and it was only three minutes in. Oi!
Once we were all seated, Mrs. P told us that the cutting knife was always facing inward toward the plate, and to face the cutting edge outward, "in times of old" (this said with a twitter -- me thinking she remembered those times being she had to be on the other side of a 100), signalled possible hostilities at the table. It was easier to grab your "weapon" with the cutting edge out so you could do away with your guest if they displeased you." Now that bit of info had Lady Brenda's eyes glittering in her head. I had to look long and hard at her because I thought, no, she can't be thinking this a nifty piece of information. But it was obvious she was savouring it.
"Excuse me," a timid voice piped up from a pretty little thing who half raised her hand and then thought better of it.
"Yes, dear?" The stodgy Mrs. P said with a slight smile of disapproval at being interrupted.
"What are all these spoons and forks for?" The pretty little finger pointed tentatively at the silverware.
"Well, dear what do you think they are for?" Mrs. P said condescendingly.
I noticed the wee thing's father squirming in his seat, he caught the feel of the answer and didn't like it, but looked around to see if he should say anything, but the amount of clearing of throats and running fingers around collars as if they were too tight, settled it. He was mum.
But not everybody was mum, no indeed, me wee partner in social mores put forth her opinion as be her usual way and we were off!
"Daphne, if you're in doubt what eating implement to use start from the outside and work your way in. Rule of thumb Daph." And then the unthinkable happened, Brenda snapped her gum.
All was quiet, and unfortunately, it was ME they were looking at, not Lady Brenda, so I piped up.
"Good advice." I mean what was I to do? Say what everyone was hoping I'd say, "SHUT UP BRENDA AND SPIT THE GUM OUT!" Nah, it was all getting to me fast and I for one was thinking Mrs. Peabody was too full of herself and yeah, you go girl (Brenda) and tell the old bat a thing or two.
I know, I know, I know! I be getting too carried away with me bad self. SIGH.
To keep the old bird from having a hissy fit I put me hand out and said in a low voice, "Gum please." To which it was taken out and handed to me. Then it was what to bloody hell do with it! I hadn't thought of that. I was trying to head off a confrontation that was going to be very opinionated on both sides and so now I had to think fast so I put it in me suit pocket. YES, I DID. Don't say a word.
"And so it is, but do you know a cream spoon from a gumbo spoon?" Mrs. P pointedly asked Wendy, I mean Brenda with a sly glint in her faded blue eyes. Ooh, an old lady challenge!
"Sheesh! Of course I do," the child rolled her eyes, and everyone looked aghast, and down at their laps. She picked up a large soup spoon and then a smaller one. She held up the large one and said, "THIS is a gumbo spoon," and then the smaller rounded one, "AND THIS is a cream soup spoon."
There was a low murmur around the table as I leaned towards Brenda and whispered, "How do you know that, I don't know that."
She cupped her hand to her mouth (the height of impoliteness I be sure) and whispered, "I read Emily Post last night so I wouldn't come off a fool!"
Wow.
"Well, OK then," I muttered back. All right I was somewhat impressed, but I saw Mrs. P looking indignant so then I muttered under my breath so Brenda could hear me, "You better tone it down or we are going to get kicked out of this joint."
"Oh Mr. O'Sullivan," the child said loudly, "YOU are so funny."
And of course, the attention was back on me, as if I was the one being impolite. I tell ya!
We were told that we should take our napkins as soon as our hostess took hers, that luncheon was about to be served. The old bat gently removed her napkin to her lap and watched everyone place their napkins and then tsked disapproval that we were not at a Burger King. She showed us the proper way to unroll the napkin, how to put it on your lap with points facing the proper direction and never, never, "Mr. Delaney shake it out like it is a sheet on a line." Yeah, Delaney's face went beet red on that remark. I bet he never does that again.
"And guys," piped up Brenda, "IF you happen to have a napkin ring it goes to the left of your plate."
The room was dead silent. Mrs. P sighed at the child's obnoxious talking out of turn and in a low undertone muttered to no one in particular, "Yes, that is right."
Thank the heavens but two men carrying covered trays came up dressed in livery. IT WAS DOWNTON ABBEY! I looked over the head of the child on me right at her father like, "What is this?" and he looked back at me like, "Really? seriously?"
We were told about serving from the left, clearing from the right, but Brenda had an opinion on that too.
"Modern dinners that are not formal where everything is prepared and not served from trays are served on the right."
"Oh my goodness!" Mrs. P blurted out, "Who are you?" And she near about threw her soup spoon down in frustration.
"She be me, daughter, for a day," I said to everyone's surprise. "She's not mine, but I be filling in, and yes, I be Irish and I talk like an Irishman, so me English isn't proper for the standards here, I be sure, but that aside, this has been truly a wonderful experience, and I know I talk for Brenda here, we are enjoying it like the bloody bollocks." And I picked up me soup spoon and I pushed the soup back to the other side of the plate (me mam taught me a table manner or two) and enjoyed me cream of asparagus soup with relish.
"Well, at least you know how to consume soup." Mrs. P said resigned she had two outlaws at her table. What she didn't say but I could hear her thoughts loud and clear, "Even if you are a low-life sad excuse for a table guest."
"I bet she wishes you were sitting next to her and her cutting knife was turned the other way," Brenda whispered in a giggle.
Yeah, I'll bet that too.
To say the rest of lunch went without incident would be a bold-faced lie. No, even before Mrs. Peabody could quiz the stupid people at the table and then correct their answers, the all-knowing Wendy, I mean Brenda, would cut her off with an "Excuse me, BUT . . . " and go into a tirade of modern etiquette versus Mrs. Peabody's old fashioned manners. By the time Wendy, I mean Brenda was done with the old bird, she couldn't get us out her door fast enough. It was goodbye, so nice, don't come back EVER! sort of leave-taking.
As we made our way to the motor, Brenda said, "Awesome Mr. O, that was so much fun!"
I was like really? THAT is your idea of a good time?
"Let's go celebrate with a juicy burger and some fries, I'm hungry after all that doo-doo." She suggested.
"Doo-doo?" I had to laugh, but to be honest after the meagre fare we were served (which I understand was just a lesson in proper manners at the table) I was famished. So I took her up on it and off we went to McDonald's. Where, if you please, the young lady popped her paper napkin with a flourish, put it next to her plate instead of her lap, and talked a mile a minute with her mouth full. Yeah, she learned a lot I'd say. I had to laugh. I sat there listening to her rattle on and I will say me opinion of Lady Brenda certainly has changed. She's delightful if not a little overbearing and taken in small doses she'd be great, except for the vampire look.
I dropped her off, told her mother we had a wonderful time and then I went home to . . . my wife on her knees trying to get the closet door unlocked, muffled screaming coming from inside the closet, the dog barking at the closet, the cat sitting on the chair top watching the commotion, and O'Hare standing in the naughty corner sobbing. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened.
It was a shock from the genteel setting even of Mcdonald's to come home to the usual chaos.
"Gabe, I think you will have to unscrew the hinges I can't get this open," Tonya said calmly. Well, she would be used to all this malarkey by now, wouldn't she? Okay, I said just as calmly since I be used to the shenanigans as well, and as I took me coat off (the chewing gum had sealed the pocket shut by the by) and placed me tie on top of it, I said to O'Hare, "I see we got our revenge for the headlock?" And he looked up at me and started laughing, yes he did, he was feigning those tears for his mother so she'd think he was atoning for his throwing his little bro in a closet than slamming the door that we all know if you slam it sticks shut. Oh yeah, home sweet home.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
5 comments:
ROFLMAO
How did you know I was talking to the screen, with the gum?LOL
THINK! MADE FOR TV MOVIE!LMAO
Never a dull day in your house.
Mr. Gabriel who knew you are a proper sipper of soup! LOL I love the new photo, much better than the pirate one. Here's a compliment Sherlock, you have the Downey Jr. look going, I like it!
Sigh :::: no, there is not.
Well you and Fiona are very complimentary on the new "look" LOL. Sipper of soup? I'll have to remember that one.
I just thought of a good revenge! You should have stuck the gum under the table! LOL guarantee you'd never be invited back.
Post a Comment