I woke up feeling ok today. By ok, I mean I didn't cough a dead animal out of my lungs this morning. Progress!
The kids were also feeling and looking less like gremlins, so I figured I would take them to get bagels. Not surprisingly, the groceries were not done this weekend and we have about as much useful food as an abandoned bomb shelter. Unfortunately, I also failed to hit a bank machine and had about two buckaroos in my purse. This does not bode well for morning bagel aquisitions.
Thankfully, Geekster had a great idea: He'd trade me the $20 in his wallet for the $2 in my purse. Um... Ooookay... Hehe, what a sucker! I thought I was finally smarter than he was. That I had finally found a way to get into the genius range penthouse, IQ-wise, and had kicked his aging brain into the 'above average' condo that my grey matter had occupied in painful mediocrity for far too long.
As it turns out, he only wanted to buy a soup today. That's about $2. He doesn't need the twenty. Hmph. There goes my ticket into Mensa.
So I head off with the boys to Tim Hortons, the painful reminder of my near rise to power burning a hole in my freely-traded purse (ah, but I am the EQ powerhouse in this family!). The Tims is quiet. In fact, we're behing only one person: a rather tall gentleman in black pants and a white dress shirt.
"Just a minute, boys," I say fairly loudly (have I mentioned that they're hearing impaired?) as they approach the counter. "We have to wait for this guy, first".
This guy turns sideways. It appears he's not a guy at all. He's a woman.
Um, crap?
How does one recover from that? That's like somebody asking when the baby's due to a lady who's blessed with bonus abdominal fat. I just called this girl a guy. A man! I struggled for the right thing to say. Something to lessen the blow. A few ideas came into my head:
"Oops, sorry about that. The mullet had me fooled."
"Does it help that I thought you were a rather effeminate guy? I mean, what's with the pattered, white dress shirt? What self-respecting guy would wear that? That totally should have tipped me off! Duh."
"You know, if you were wearing a skirt I would have known you were female hands down! The pants threw me off, that's all"
I said none of these things, or I probably would be at the dentist right now having some teeth replaced instead of blogging. I took the wussy way out. I said something nearly under my breath, like 'Oops, that's not a guy. Silly me. I wasn't even looking! Let's wait behind this nice lady for mommy's coffee. Apparently I'm not very awake right now'.
Good job, Maven. I bet that made her feel a LOT better! Wow, you sure do have a way with words. A golden tongue. She probably left with a huge smile on her face and spent the rest of the day enjoying her female charms.
*sigh* You can't win 'em all. I have a feeling I'm going to have to lease out my 'above average intelligence' condo and move on down. Way, way down. A basement apartment in the 'too stupid to blink' development would suit me just fine. Not much of a view, but I bet I'd win a lot of poker games with the neighbours.
The kids were also feeling and looking less like gremlins, so I figured I would take them to get bagels. Not surprisingly, the groceries were not done this weekend and we have about as much useful food as an abandoned bomb shelter. Unfortunately, I also failed to hit a bank machine and had about two buckaroos in my purse. This does not bode well for morning bagel aquisitions.
Thankfully, Geekster had a great idea: He'd trade me the $20 in his wallet for the $2 in my purse. Um... Ooookay... Hehe, what a sucker! I thought I was finally smarter than he was. That I had finally found a way to get into the genius range penthouse, IQ-wise, and had kicked his aging brain into the 'above average' condo that my grey matter had occupied in painful mediocrity for far too long.
As it turns out, he only wanted to buy a soup today. That's about $2. He doesn't need the twenty. Hmph. There goes my ticket into Mensa.
So I head off with the boys to Tim Hortons, the painful reminder of my near rise to power burning a hole in my freely-traded purse (ah, but I am the EQ powerhouse in this family!). The Tims is quiet. In fact, we're behing only one person: a rather tall gentleman in black pants and a white dress shirt.
"Just a minute, boys," I say fairly loudly (have I mentioned that they're hearing impaired?) as they approach the counter. "We have to wait for this guy, first".
This guy turns sideways. It appears he's not a guy at all. He's a woman.
Um, crap?
How does one recover from that? That's like somebody asking when the baby's due to a lady who's blessed with bonus abdominal fat. I just called this girl a guy. A man! I struggled for the right thing to say. Something to lessen the blow. A few ideas came into my head:
"Oops, sorry about that. The mullet had me fooled."
"Does it help that I thought you were a rather effeminate guy? I mean, what's with the pattered, white dress shirt? What self-respecting guy would wear that? That totally should have tipped me off! Duh."
"You know, if you were wearing a skirt I would have known you were female hands down! The pants threw me off, that's all"
I said none of these things, or I probably would be at the dentist right now having some teeth replaced instead of blogging. I took the wussy way out. I said something nearly under my breath, like 'Oops, that's not a guy. Silly me. I wasn't even looking! Let's wait behind this nice lady for mommy's coffee. Apparently I'm not very awake right now'.
Good job, Maven. I bet that made her feel a LOT better! Wow, you sure do have a way with words. A golden tongue. She probably left with a huge smile on her face and spent the rest of the day enjoying her female charms.
*sigh* You can't win 'em all. I have a feeling I'm going to have to lease out my 'above average intelligence' condo and move on down. Way, way down. A basement apartment in the 'too stupid to blink' development would suit me just fine. Not much of a view, but I bet I'd win a lot of poker games with the neighbours.