I tend to leave out fat cups and therefore have a lot of embarrassing stories that I could tell.
The other day I talked to a few women of the same age about baby names; One told then she should have been called Charlotte when her mother decided to change.I find the name Charlotte really beautiful but to comfort her, I said she should be happy, after all, every second child is called that by now, which soon becomes the universal name! When I asked the other woman what her little daughter’s name is… yes, you guessed it, Charlotte is called the little one. I quickly fubbed something of popular names and then quickly changed the theme.
Another time, and this is now a thousand times more embarrassing to me, I invited my then new boss and her husband to dinner with me.Nervous as I was, part of the menu was quite burnt to me and I was forced to serve up to my important guests. My very polite boss insisted it wasn’t that bad, she said.
But it wasn’t done embarrassingly enough, with Klass there’s still a lot of on top.We ate in the kitchen at the table, my hangover came in, sat down in the adjoining housekeeping room on his throne and, well, held a meeting there. Not enough that he did that at all (sometimes I think he has no feeling of shame at all), no, that had to be loud and of course stank up to the sky up to us in the kitchen. I would have preferred to have chased my guests out of the kitchen and ripped open all the windows, but somehow I didn’t want to address them either. Man, that was embarrassing. So we sat at the table with bad food, with the smell of the last time in our noses and no one could think of a topic of conversation. At one point I apologized for my unplanned four-legged friend and reminded everyone at the table to leave room for dessert again. We drank the coffee on the balcony and the evening sounded very nice. I was incredibly happy to have such a lovely and indulgent boss. But somehow they haven’t had time for more visits.
The next one is a much shorter story.My girlfriends and I were at some point at the public viewing. After the game, the streets were full of good-humoured, drunken people and a group of young men shouted at us something cheeky but funny. I roared my equally cheeky answer, running strackewegs with my head against a lantern. As really doof as in a cheap comedy. Hundreds of people laughed at me, the boys were groaning and my girls were laughing tears. I took it with humour myself, but was happy when we moved on. Of course, history hasnot let my clique forget me for years.
But then I really turn off the light, kids.I had to talk to a consultant about a very difficult subject, at my home everything was just going horribly and I was totally depressed. I told her everything, she listened sensitively, at the end I said, “… this is all just good buzz to the evil game.” No, I didn’t get too wrong, I really said that by mistake. Despite the serious subject, the otherwise professional lady couldn’t help but laugh terribly, uncontrollably, all over her body. We broke off the session and when I left, the poor woman still hadn’t gotten in. Oh man.