FUTURE YOU IS SO MEAN
Have you ever heard a guy cry out in pure exasperation “Chicks!”?
They do that – especially when we girls aren’t around. It’s because we females stupefy, dumbfound, confound, and baffle men (you can tweet that).
The only reason I know this is because M.C. Nugget and I say it ourselves about other chicks all the time. You can’t blame us (or – er – them – or – er – men). Women come up with some of the quirkiest, zaniest things, most of the time for no good reason at all.
Nuggie doesn’t ever say it about me, though. The guy’s got it pretty good. He’s had hardly any chicky situations to deal with from me. I’ve probably got more testosterone than the average woman, which sort of makes me not quite understand “chicky” behavior either. Nuggie and I see eye to eye on this issue. This is where we are compadres.
But today was different.
It was as if the Big Guy upstairs needed a laugh and the heavens opened up so He could thwack me on the head with His magic wand (full of female juju). (That or it could have a little to do with another thing that’s going on in my body chemistry right now… I’ve alluded to this phenomena otherwise known as hormones (or lack thereof) in too many posts to count, but my most recent funny (or slightly scary) rant can be found here).
Nuggie and I were pleasantly going about our day. He was in the living room surrounded by and opening his mail, I was in the kitchen (about four strides away) making my lunch. It was a pleasant ordinary day until Nuggie said what I heard as either a slightly frustrated, or it could have been a somewhat satisfied sigh and “Paid the bills!”
I replied “How was it?” (because aren’t all bills painful? I wanted to be sure he was okay) and the rest went like this:
Nuggie: I don’t know.
Nuggie (slightly frustrated): I haven’t finished yet.
Me: What do you mean? What’d you say?
Nuggie (thoroughly confused now) and more loudly: I SAID I’M “PAYING THE BILLS!”
Me: OMG! I just heard “Paid the bills!” *Laughing*
That’s scary! If we’re THIS bad now, we’re in trouble! It’s gonna’ be like “EHHH? Sonny boy? What’s that? Pay for some thrills?”
We both chuckled about that for a minute.
The fact that THIS is where our conversations go during the day while we’re supposed to be working has me a little more than concerned, but it didn’t end there.
As I thought about our future conversation and compared it to what just happened (with Nuggie getting slightly peeved) and I imagined the same thing with a crotchety Nuggie, I got my feelings hurt.
Yes… I, Ms. Cheevious, the one with far more testosterone than the average female who is unable to understand “chicky” nonsense, took our future conversation to the only possible conclusion – that of old geezer Nuggie grumbling and growling at me because CONFOUND IT, YOU SHOULD TURN UP YOUR HEARING AID!
…and I GOT MY FEELINGS HURT.
I finally said out loud, “Honey! Future you is SO mean!!!“
You heard it here first. I went chicky. Just this once.
All together now:
Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike License | Dietmar Temps / Flickr
I LOVE IT! That has to be one of the better and funniest posts I’ve read – Been there – done that! Thanks!
Ms. Cheevious says
Well thank you Wak! Love ya!
My daughters keep claiming they are becoming like me as they age, not sure if they think it’s a good thing or not. Thanks for making me laugh!
Ms. Cheevious says
🙂 Thanks Tara!
Onisha Ellis says
You need a hearing aid, no YOU need a hearing aid, no you need to talk better……..That’s how it goes at our house. You have to laugh.
BAHAHAHA! that’s awesome Onisha! LOL
Bob Nailor says
My wife and I have lovingly dubbed that “Entertainment Factor” to cover for the inability of us to hear properly – okay, I can’t hear properly. Her response to my reply of what I thought she said – let’s just say the conversation spirals downward and totally out of control. We enjoy them but unfortunately, most of them are “you had to be there” moments when attempting to re-tell. I’m giving you a “heads up” tip – it ain’t gonna get better unless you consider the humor of it all as a great result.
Yep! You gotta have the laugh factor Bob! Otherwise it’s too much…
Elyse Salpeter says
Well, at least the conversations are still related to each other – eventually as you get older, you’ll both be having entirely different conversations! LOL!
let’s HOPE NOT Elyse! LOL… or wait a minute… heyy… I think we already do that. it’s called talking to ourselves. I’ve been doing that for years! LOL
There ain’t no mod slang for such a doll/dude, but there should be. Goes by the phrase,
“one with senile dementia.” I suggest the shorter appellation, a ‘FOG’. No cure, just a progressive stage of life. Gotta understand it’s a physical disability like a broken arm; there are just some things a FOG can’t do, like remember where something was put, or know five minutes later the answer to the question FOG just asked. Today we went to a funeral we have planned for since last Sunday. Yesterday we talked extensively about our respect for and friendship with the deceased. This morning we are dressing to go; question:
“Stan, the manager of our condo>”
We are in the car driving away from the house.
“Where are we going?”
“To the funeral.”
Upon arriving at the funeral home.
“Why are we here?”
“For the funeral.”
In a pique of frustration, I say, “I’ve told you 19 times. Stan. We have been talking about him all week. Can’t you remember?”
“You’re so goddam smart, you know everything, to hell with it, I don’t want to go to a $%^& funeral anyway, why didn’t you tell me this is what we were going to be doing. I don’t want to be here.
We go to the funeral and the entire exchange is forgotten.
Be glad that all you have to deal with is chicks and survivable misunderstandings. Wait till time becomes really mean. Alas.
Oh my god, Eaeme. You totally understand, and THEN SOME! Reminds me of my dearly departed grandmother. But you ended it very comically – whether you know it or not. I am now extremely glad all I have to deal with is “Chicks!” HAHA. Hang in there!!!!! There IS a reason these things happen and that broken arm analogy is great, except there is no splint for this. Breathe… JUST breathe.
You know, I write to Ms. C like to no one else because she totally understands. Love
Awe… Love right back Eaeme!
Hah! This is something I do with my boyfriend, from time to time – picture him as an old man, try to guess what his quirks will be. Usually it’s when I’m annoyed at him, so I picture those traits of his that bother me – amplified. Hahah. Glad I’m not the only one 🙂 It IS a pretty silly thing to do.
It most definitely is Kristen! LOL