Earlier this week, I thought that I might be The Terminator, but I’ve figured out that I’m really just a 12-year-old boy. Or, more specifically, that I’m about as mature as a 12-year-old boy. See, I’m THAT friend, the kind that everyone has, the one that can hear something completely innocuous and turn it into something NQSFW (not quite safe for work) or NIWMMTH (nothing I want my mother to hear). But I can’t help it. I do it reflexively. I do it gleefully. I do it with gusto. (Even now I’m snickering because “I do it.”) And last week, all the girls in the office joined in with me. (Joined me in being immature, not in “doing it”. See, it’s contagious.) It was a group exercise in enjoying awkward moments.
It all started innocently enough. Jessica wore some new boots to work one day and I complimented her on them. One of the other girls told Jessica to watch out or I might attack her and steal those boots right off her feet. (At this point, despite talk of theft and assault, it was still just a normal conversation for the office.) I pointed out it wouldn’t be worth it for me to steal Jessica’s boots because my calves are too big, so they probably wouldn’t fit. And that’s when Jessica announced, “They might. I had to get the extra-wide shaft.”
“EXTRA-WIDE SHAFT” you say? That’s the best opportunity for a double-entendre zinger I’ve had in a long time, but before I could get it out, the other girls started talking about other innocent things that sound super vulgar. I’m pretty sure I nearly had an aneurysm from holding back all the super-inappropriate things and immature giggling that conversation was creating for me.
After Jessica’s “extra-wide shaft” and a couple examples from the others, I shared the awkward lecture that my orthodontist shared with me on the first visit to his office. “I’m going to give you a mouthpiece to wear to bed each night. We have to train your tongue to behave properly when you swallow.” The grown-up part of my brain registered the medical purpose of that statement. The preteen boy part of my brain was practically doing cartwheels. In a moment of self-control I never would have thought I have, I just nodded my head. That’s right, the girl who makes Craigslist pervs uncomfortable stayed silent.
As uncomfortably awesome as my orthodontist story was though, I didn’t have the winning phrase that day. It turns out that Olivia, who is taking Chemistry this semester, has a piece of equipment they use in the lab that is called a “stop cock” and for the stop cock to work properly, it has to be lubricated. It’s a damn good thing I didn’t need Chemistry for my degree; I wouldn't have lasted a minute.
|At least for me.|