One time I told a lady that she looked cute pregnant. She wasn't. Almost everyone has done this. I do it a lot.
A few years ago a girl walked in my office. It was a girl who had one dark tooth. All the others were beautifully white so this dark one stood out like beard dandruff. (Ever seen it? I have.) So I was typing away at my computer and looked over at Dark Toothed Girl, and exclaimed, "Oh, you got your tooth fixed!" I was happy for her.
She got a sort of weird look on her face and then responded..."No I didn't." A closer look...evaluation...and I realize that the dead tooth is STILL DEAD! As it turns out, the light from the windows was glistening on the dead tooth, which made it appear to fall in line with all the others. Total bummer. I hate that I do this. Hate it.
I've tried many times to stop doing this. Problem is, there's not a lot of good ways to "work" on this, ya know? It's an impulse problem... I blame it on my ADD.
So two days before Christmas, Heather and I attended the Trans Siberian Orchestra concert here in Indy. It was great. I noticed on our way in the auditorium, that our African American usher of about 75 years, though very dark skinned, had blue eyes. "Beautiful" I thought to myself. I wish I would've stopped there. Sigh. I didn't.
"Wow. You have blue eyes!" I said.
"No I don't," he said.
"Sure you do," I say. And I'm thinking there's no way he has blue contacts. He was way too old for that kind of vanity.
"Nope, I don't," he says again. Okay, so right here's where I should have shut my mouth, handed over my tickets, and headed in for the show. I know that now.
But I don't stop. Instead I turn to Heather and say, "They're blue right?"
"No," she says, and has that "Why are you talking to the usher about his eyes?" face that I've seen a billion times. I've seen it when I've asked to see someone's tattoo before..., or their toenail that has that fungus disease. (I call it "Crap Toe." My sister calls it, "Thick Toenail."
So at this point I'm a little embarrassed that Heather and Usher Man emphatically deny the man's obvious blue eyes, so I cave and decide to let it go. "Oh," I say. And that's it. But I DIDN'T say, "Oh, you're right." Know why? CAUSE THEY WERE BLUE!
So we walk in the auditorium and I say to Heather, "His eyes were blue. Why the heck did you say they weren't blue? Did you really not think they were blue?"
"Because Matt... He has cataracts!"
Uhhhhhh.....
Nice.
Do you know what cataracts are? They look a little something like this...
I thought about going back out and apologizing. But what do you say? "Hey, sorry about the blue eye thing... but seriously...your cataracts are slammin'!"
Anyway, I fear Foot in Mouth disease is incurable. Any remedies would be much appreciated.
