Monday, May 24, 2004
Never marry a funny man, if you get embarrassed easily.
I had fair warning. So don't feel sorry for me.
I've known since Ryan took me on a date to an expensive little Creole restaurant in historic St. Louis about three months into our dating relationship, that I would be fighting embarrassment most of my life with Ryan. Ryan ordered jumbilliah, named the crawdad that was placed, somewhat decoratively, on the side of the bowl and played with it, giving it a French accent and having it dance around our table. People all around us laughed heartily, but not me. I had already learned to bite my tongue when he did something hilarious in public because my laughter only encourages him and if he has any encouragement at all he doesn't stop. I almost never laugh out loud anymore much to his dismay.
Yesterday we went to Wal-mart. An activity that normal people do on a fairly regular basis. In fact, I have gone to Wal-mart with Ryan on several occasions with no particularly negative outcomes. The worst outcome being when we played hockey in one of the aisles, and after I shot the puck out of our aisle and Ryan went to chase it, an old lady came and yelled at me, telling me we could not play hockey in the store. When Ryan came back he didn't believe me so he continued to play hockey.
I guess that might not have been quite as bad as the time he climbed inside a shopping cart and Christina began pushing him around the store, but I was already far out of sight when the greeter, an old man without teeth, I imagine, grabbed Christina by the shoulder, stopping the joy ride, and forced Ryan to get out of the cart.
However, it had been several months since this incident had occured so I was feeling fairly secure in our trip to Wal-mart. But then, when we pulled into the parking space, there it was, a wheel-chair shopping cart, right in front of our car. I had an evil premonition, I walked straight into the store not looking back, and of course when I did glance over my shoulder, there was my husband with legs dangling limply, sitting in a wheel-chair cart being pushed by Christina, who has not yet learned the subtle wisdom of never, never encouraging Ryan in his antics.
Ryan pushed his way through the store, occasionally begging us to push him, and typically we gave in. Everywhere we went, someone offered to help him find something. I realized how lacking customer service is for the non-differently abled. I kept whispering things to him like "no one likes a cripple" every once in a while someone would hear these whispers and glare at me like I was the scum of the earth. In general I was spared during this excursion, nothing particularly embarrassing happened as most people genuinely believed he needed the wheelchair. The only thing that came close to embarrassment was when Christina and I laughed hysterically as Ryan rolled up to the car, lifted himself from his chair to the car seat in that pivoting motion attempting to swing his legs into the car, but ended up having to lift them with his hands into place. People stared at Christina and I again as if we deserved to be shot, you could tell they all thought Ryan should get more sympathetic friends.
Our conversation afterwards truly frightened me. He told me about how he expected at any moment for an older woman to, realizing he was faking it, push him out of the chair, telling him to get out of there. Then he told me how his plan was to fall face first to the ground leaving his legs limply dangling behind him. I did my best not to giggle or even smile at this comment because if I had I'm sure he would have developed some plan to stage this very thing in the near future.
Then he told me that when he was picking out an ink cartridge he had determined that if anyone had come to him and offered to help him he would have responded with "Why, because I'm crippled? I guess the fact that I can't walk means I can't read or think for myself either. You sicken me." Again, I can only thank God that no one thought to offer their assistance at that time. Perhaps the most frightening of all is that he kept making references to "the next time I attempt social experiments in Wal-mart..." As soon as he saw my general aggravation at him, he matter-of-factly explained to me that, "Once you sit in the chair there's not going back, you're committed, you can't just get out and walk because then you look like a jackass." When Christina and I exclaimed simultaneously, "You are a jackass!" He replied with a superior smirk, "Yes, but no one knew that."
So clearly, as he was back in the car driving away from Wal-mart I naively believed myself to be in the clear. We drove up to sonic and ordered some food. The conversation went something like this.
Ryan (the driver): I wonder if they have any special deals for the handicapped.
Christina: But they don't know you're handicapped.
Ryan: They should I'm sitting.
Sonic Girl: Hello welcome to sonic can I take your order?
Ryan: Yeah, Chris?
Christina: A junior cheeseburger with cheese.
Ryan: Really, with cheese?
Christina: Yes.
Ryan: You want a junior cheeseburger with cheese that's ridiculous.
Sonic Girl: Annoyed silence.
Ryan: I want a junior cheeseburger with cheese.
Me: A corn-dog kids meal and a junior cheeseburger with no onions and with mayonnaise.
Ryan: A corn-dog kids meal and a junior cheeseburger with no onions.
Christina: It doesn't come with onions.
Ryan: And with mayonnaise if it comes with that.
Amy: Even if it doesn't come with mayonnaise I want mayonnaise.
Ryan: Ok, umm with mayonnaise, no matter what, a junior cheeseburger with no onion but with mayonnaise, oh but just one of those, but umm yeah, we still want that earlier one too, that was just regular. So one regular junior cheeseburger and one with no onions add mayonnaise. I also want a number three.
Sonic Girl: Fries or tater tots?
Ryan: What? F-rie-s or ta-ter tots. (All very drawn out and pronounced.)
Ryan: Don't get impertinent with me Missy. Fries.
Sonic Girl: (Clearly pissed off at this point.) mayonnaise of mustard?
Ryan: Number one style.
Sonic Girl: What did you want to drink with that?
Ryan: (With an evil smirk on his face, looking at us like, 'just wait and see what I'm going to do now') Angrily: I said a coke!
Sonic Girl: (Clearly very pissed off...) I didn't hear you.
Amy: (To Ryan) I hope you realize you're getting our food spit on.
Ryan: (To sonic girl) Umm, you're doing a really good job.
She gave us the total we pulled around and waited for a very, very long time.
Amy: They're defecating on our food right now, spitting doesn't take this long.
We got our food, and as we drove away, Ryan pulled over, turned on the dome light and made us check our food for loogies.
So this is my life. Checking my fast-food for loogies because my husband thinks he is super funny. And honestly, even though it annoys me, he is super funny, and my life has more joy in it because I'm married to him. I just wish I could tell him that without creating a vortex that would suck me into more and more of these situations rapidly increasing in their levels of humiliation.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Facing Our Fears
I love teaching Sunday School, mainly because I love the absurd things that pre-schoolers say. For instance, this last Sunday we were talking about Jesus walking on the water, they were coloring a sheet that portrayed this. Trying to make small talk I asked them what they would think if they saw someone walking on the water, I asked them if they would be afraid. This is the conversation that followed.
kid 1: I wouldn't be afraid.
kid 2: I'm not afraid of thunder.
kid 1: I'm not afraid of lightning. I think it's cool to see.
Me: (Again continuing with the small talk) I like to watch lightning too.
kid 3: I'm not afraid of tornados.
Me: Really? (Thinking to myself that tornados are a fairly legitimate thing to
fear.)
kid 1: My soccer team is named Tornados.
kid 4: I'm not afraid of snakes.
me: yeah?
kid 4: I'm also not afraid of deer.
me: (Sure that I must have heard him wrong) deer?
kid 4: Yeah, I'm not afraid of deer.
kid 5: Well, I'm not afraid of deer.
me: (Before we have to hear the entire table assert their general security
with deer.) Umm, yeah, I don't think anyone has ever really been afraid
of deer.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Accomplishment Of The Day:
I was just complimented on my skills in the self-check out line. Seriously, the lady that stands at the booth and monitors all the self-check out stations told me, as I walked out, that I had done really well and that she was really impressed. I felt as if I had just gotten a sticker on my paper which read, "Follows directions well." Because, seriously what else is there to a self-check out station than following directions. I think she was impressed because I got through three different produce items without asking for assistance. I feel bad for that lady she must have to answer all kinds of stupid questions. I think if I were her, my answer would always be, "Well, what does the screen tell you to do?" You know answer a question with a question like Jesus always did. Hmm...speaking of Jesus maybe I should start a whole line of products with the initials... W.D.T.S.T.Y.T.D. (What does the screen tell you to do.) I guess that's a little long for a bracelet, unless someone had really thick wrists. It would be the evangelistic tool for non-useless people everywhere. Yes, I do think everyone who can't follow directions is pretty much useless.
Anyway, I'm thinking of adding my recently acknowledged skills as a good self-checker-outer to my resume. It's similar to "Plays well with technology."
Friday, May 07, 2004
So I don't really blog anymore. I really don't know why, I have a couple of theories. The first theory is that I have stopped needing as much attention as I used to need. That sounds crazy, but for me blogging was all about people thinking I was funny, I really enjoyed the affirmation and attention. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I don't still need attention and affirmation, but maybe just not as much anymore. My second theory is that I tell all my good stories to people and then when it comes time to blog I have no new stories left. That's pretty much the case today, but I'm going to tell a story anyway, even though I'm pretty sure you've all heard it.
I've been working on a video for a health company. Part of this video involved taking photos of employees. Part of taking photos of employees involved going to a mental health facility where certain employees worked. I actually don't think it is only a mental health facility. All I know for sure is that if you try to kill yourself, you end up there for at least a week or so.
Anyway the photographer and I got bored waiting for people to come in to have their photos taken, so we played a few games of tic tac toe on a big chalk board. And something about a big chalkboard and trying to pass the time brought to mind the game hangman. So I sat in a room at a mental health facility and played hangman. It was super fun, my stomach was all tied in knots because I knew any minute someone would walk in, see the game of hangman, glare at me and make some comment about "bad taste." Fortunately, no one ever did walk in while we were playing hangman and I just got to revel in the irony.
