Stupid Tuesday questions, Rachel Hunter edition
I do not recall how the conversation started. Knowing me, a random bit of static on the surface of my brain was as likely the cause as anything tangible or perceptible to a neutral observer. I have no idea why I was talking about the subject in question. [More on that later.]
But for whatever reason, I was talking about Rod Stewart.
Specifically, I was talking about how much I don’t like him. It turns out, I don’t like him much at all. I don’t like his singing. I don’t care for his songs, with a few exceptions. (I like “Maggie May” a lot, actually.) And I really don’t care for his public persona.
And for God only knows what reason, I decided to hold forth on the subject of my dislike for Rod Stewart.
The setting for my soliloquy was the nursery at the hospital where I was working at the time. I was quite new at the job. I believe the other person present to hear my thoughts was meeting me for the first time. She was a nurse.
After I got done pontificating about my dislike for Mr. Stewart as a performer, it occurred to me to ask the nurse I’d just met who she really liked to listen to.
She really liked Rod Stewart. As I came to learn over time, he is perhaps her favorite performer.
[As I was composing this post in my head last night, a horrifying but all too likely possibility occurred to me. It is quite possible that the reason the subject of Rod Stewart and my dislike of him popped into my head was because some kind of music-playing device was playing his music when I started talking about him. In which case someone quite possibly had chosen to play his music. Which, of course, would have made my decision to yammer on about how much I don’t like him even more striking in its idiocy.]
By the time I left that particular job, the nurse and I were on very friendly terms. She is a lovely person, and we got along quite well. But for some time after that benighted first meeting, there was a distinct frostiness in her interactions with me.
So that’s this week’s Question — when have you ever performed a dental procedure on yourself with your own foot? Out with it, people. Confession is good for the soul. The more appallingly dunderheaded, the better.
Mine is actually somewhat similar to yours – workplace, female co-worker, Journey instead of Rod Stewart.
She turned out to be not just the head of the local fan club, but actually was acquainted with Steve Perry and had socialized with him a little bit.
Luckily, I hadn’t been too mean – just a few jokes about feathered hair and jeans/tux jacket combos, but I had not ragged on the music or anything (one of the first albums I ever bought was Journey). We ended up getting along fine.
And I’m with ya on Rod (although in addition to the excellent “MM”, “Young Turks” is also good).
Plus, there’s a probably apocryphal quote of his re: marriage/divorce that’s pretty funny:
“Instead of getting married again, I’m going to find a woman I don’t like, and just give her a house.”Report
Another one, from the period when I was convinced Larry David was secretly filming my life for story ideas:
Dinner party at the house of a friend we had not seen in a while, and his wife (who we’d never met before).
Their house is FULL of Madonna (OG, not MG – that is, The Virgin, not Like A) tchotchkes – statues, paintings, etc. in every nook and cranny.
Not knowing whether these indicated a genuine (and apparently fervent-bordering-on-obsessive) religious belief, or were just a collection (perhaps academic, or kitsch/hobby/interest), I asked about one painting, where it appeared Tori Amos had been used as the model; all the while inwardly congratulating myself on cleverly avoiding THAT minefield.
Upon which our hostess informed us, no, that was a painting of HER (the hostess) – and, the artist who’d painted it was sitting right next to ME, observing this whole exchange.
So I managed to sort of insult the hostess, and definitely insult the artist, in one fell swoop (since the hostess looked NOTHING like Tori Amos).Report
So weird; someone told me that one just last night as a Robin Williams quote.Report
I heard it a long time ago as Stewart (and, it’s on his wikipedia page…so you know it’s true!)
And that’s one of the more wholesome apocryphal stories about him!Report
@glyoh “Mine is actually somewhat similar to yours – workplace, female co-worker, Journey instead of Rod Stewart.”
I’m not sure that’s something you need to feel bad about. If she was a Journey fan and knew Steve Perry, she had no one to blame but herself. Some people you just can’t help.Report
Oh, Tod. When did you stop believin’?Report
When the lights went down in the city.Report
But the girl can’t help it. Now that they’ve gone their separate ways, who’s crying now?Report
Only the young, Glyph. Only the young.Report
Why so judgmental? Any way you want it, that’s the way you need it.Report
Because the wheel in the sky keeps on turnin’Report
Socializing with him a little bit? Is that what they’re calling it now?Report
Sitting at the head of a table in a dining hall talking about accents, and mentioning how a Texas accent made a person sound stupid to me, only to realize that staring directly at me from the opposite end of the table was a friend who was from Texas. There’s just no walking that back. You apologize and confess that you’re the stupid one.Report
when have you ever performed a dental procedure on yourself with your own foot?
Do you mean today? This week? How long have you got?
Also, my mother will change the radio station upon hearing even one note or chord of a Rod Stewart song.Report
“Do you mean today? This week? How long have you got?”
thisReport
thirded.Report
Rod Stewart, in the context of the Jeff Beck Group, was a tremendous singer. Thereafter, he does nothing for me. Jeff Beck was such a jerk — fine player when he’s in the mood and has the right people around him — Rod Stewart was a decent enough man, brought a working-class sensibility to his craft, no snottiness about him.
I tend more towards Jeff Beck than Rod Stewart. But Jeff Beck is such an unpleasant human being. Beck’s music is unreliable and uneven, flashes of brilliance here and there but too fussy and mannered.
Rod Stewart’s hits were overplayed and he’s become a bit of a parody of himself since the 90s. Nonetheless, knowing some people who’ve worked for him, Rod Stewart transcended his genre, coming to terms with the blues in his own unique way, something every musician or artist should strive for, becoming himself.Report
My company used to be small and family-owned. At one point, I got the task of updating our MSDS. We had gotten proofs back from the printer, and they had screwed up pretty badly. I was talking with the sales manager and I was complaining about how bad they were, and I said something to the effect of “whoever did this must be a relative of someone, or else they gave us a really good deal.” He never said anything. A year or so later, I discovered his wife did the printing.
I do not know if he remembers this or not. I would never bring it up. He has become one of my better friends at work, so it is water under the bridge either way.Report
RR,
The appropriate response from your friend would have been, “I’m sure they’ll get it right next time.” — clipped and curt.
;-PReport
It’s a longish train ride from Chicago to Elgin, especially if it’s not the express. As people will, a bunch of us tended to sit in the same place, same group. Two bench seats face each other, four people. One group in the morning, another in the evening. Still have some friends from those days.
I’m going home. Three of the four usuals were in our places, a newcomer was in the fourth seat. The subject of clean jokes had come up. Dirty jokes are awfully funny, a good many of them, but could a joke be both clean and funny? We dug around in our inventory of jokes, summoned up a few clean ones, tried to rate them.
Came my turn. This was the joke I told.
Three little old ladies with Alzheimer’s Disease lived in the same home. A sheltered situation, with helpers, but a nice enough situation. The first little old lady is walking up the stairs. Comes to the landing, where it takes a left-hand turn, has a little spell and says “Was I going up the stairs, or was I going down the stairs?”
Second little old lady is sitting on a straight back chair beside her bed, getting dressed. Looks at her feet, has a little spell and asks “Was I taking my shoes and socks off, or was I putting my shoes and socks on?”
Third little old lady is sitting downstairs at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee. Hears these two old women — “Was I going up the stairs, or was I going down the stairs?” — “Was I taking my shoes and socks off, or was I putting my shoes and socks on?”
“Thank God I’m not losing my mind like those two old birds, knock on wood.” (Knock, knock)
“Now was that the front door, or was that the back door?”
— the newcomer glares at me. “MY MOTHER HAS ALZHEIMER’S DISEASE”Report
If it’s hereditary, all will be forgiven and forgotten in time.Report
There was the time I called out my client’s name in the hallway, walked up to the person who identified herself, and then explained my entire strategy to her. She stood there and listened and after I explained that it would be about two weeks until I could have the deadbeat tenant out on the street, she said, “Well, you should probably explain that to your own client, who’s down the hall. I’m the deadbeat.”Report
Awesome.Report
I doubt anyone’s going to be able to top this in terms of shere head-slappiness. Well done.Report
If that was an actual strategy, it would have been brilliant.Report
I’m surprised she wasn’t a little more upset than that. “I intend to kick you out of your home” is on a whole different level than “I don’t like your favourite band”.Report
You know what? I’m sure I’ve done this many times but I can’t think of a specific instance right now along the Rod Stewart lines. But I am sure my cultural snobbery has gotten me into trouble like this before.
But there are a lot of times when I wonder when something I’ve said is an issue of being an absolute blunderbus or a non-response to something means I’ve pissed someone off and they are not telling me. Usually they are just busy or distracted and all is well. I dislike non-response.Report
How about whever you go into one of your spiels about YA lit on Facebook?Report
Those probably work.
But I’m not wrong that YA is not revolutionary.
Also my defenses of the humanities against practical degrees.Report
Maybe when you show off your sports knowledge by putting the Senators in the National League? 🙂Report
There was the time I saw a co-worker dressed exceptionally well, and joked “You must have a job interview after work. Either that or you’re going to a funeral.”
Yup.Report
I have actually done some variant of this one on more than one occasion. You’d think I’d learn.Report
I just remember the worst of these. I saw a guy who never dresses up (he usually looks like he’s on a beach in Hawaii) wearing a jacket and tie, and I said, “Hey, whose funeral you going to?” thinking that he probably had some serious work function (maybe a talk or committee meeting of some sort, something other than an actual funeral), and he replied, “My sister-in-law’s.” I could actually taste my shoe at that moment.Report
Ouch.Report
I’ve been chatting with a woman on one of these newish-fangled on-line dating sites.
She said she was out of the country for two weeks at the start of September. I asked if it was for work or pleasure.
She said it was for her grandfather’s funeral
Yep, they call me Casanova for a reason.Report
At least you didn’t respond, “So pleasure, then.”Report
So much win, Tod.
So, so much.Report
Two moments come to mind. One I’ve already written about. The other:
When I was in my early to mid-twenties, one of the first of my friends to get married and his wife bought a sweet but wee starter home. They had a house warming after they moved in, and my friend’s in-laws and I were the first to arrive. They gave a tour, and seemed pretty apologetic about the size of their house. (Goodness knows why – the rest of us were all still in apartments smaller than their house.) After the tour my friend, his wife, her parents and I stood having a glass of wine in their kitchen, and my friend kind of apologized once again for how tiny the house was.
“Please, stop apologizing,” I said. “I think it’s amazing you guys have a house at all – you’re so much farther ahead than the rest of us.” Everyone agreed, and if I’d been smart I would have left it there.
Sadly, I was an idiot and so I added, “Besides, you guys are just starting out. It’s not like you’re middle aged and live in a mobile home.” Everything got really quiet, and suddenly without being told I just knew that the wife’s parents lived in a mobile home.
Scrambling to make things better, I added, “Of course, a lot of mobile homes are really, really, nice and a great value. I wasn’t talking about ALL people who live in mobile homes, of course. Just, like, the ones that have plastic slip covers over their furniture.” As soon as it was out of my mouth, it hit me that they were also going to have plastic slip covers over their furniture. Which they did. Of course they did.
I left the party very, very early.Report
“But, you know, some people don’t care that much about material things. I admire that. It’s not like you lost all your savings in some stupid Ponzi scheme.”Report
I’m the kind of idiot who takes cultural mores rather more seriously than he ought to. Badly embarrassed an American coworker in the Panasonic cafeteria. Shouldn’t even tell this story, it makes me wince to even remember it.
The cafeteria serves mostly Japanese food. You get a bowl of rice with pretty much everything. And of course, it’s mostly chopsticks. We’re all sitting at one of the communal tables, an American is eating with chopsticks — and shoves his chopsticks into the rice, to hold them up.
Japanese wouldn’t do that. The only time you put chopsticks in rice that way is when you’re making a Shinto offering to the dead. So I point this out to the American, who gets sort of indignant — and asks my (Japanese) boss — “is that true, not to put your chopsticks in the rice?”
My boss, Kohata-san, blushes with embarrassment. “Yes, it’s true.” And my co-worker blushes with embarrassment. Now I’ve managed to embarrass two people. And I get embarrassed. And we all three sit there for a minute, just dying a bit…..Report
FWIW, I teach my kids to use the phrase “not for me” when discussing something they do not like. It focuses on the personal nature of preferences and allows for others to enjoy without judgement.
As for putting my foot in my mouth? Every goddamn day. I’ll think of a particularly good example later.Report
I asked a cute young thing to one of my HS Proms and during the convo I said something with “my woman” in it when I meant “my date” or some such. Things were a bit frosty from then on and I heard back through the grapevine that she was pissed at me for the comment.
That’s the first time I remember really putting foot in mouth. I’ve done it too many times to count since then….Report
One of your HS proms?Report
I vaguely remember references to junior proms and senior proms in 80s sitcoms.Report
I vaguely remember burning PROMs for 80s computers.Report
Yes, as Brandon says, Junior and Senior proms in highschool. You could only go to those proms if you were a junior or senior or if you were asked to go as a date by a junior or senior.Report