What the... Hell...?
At 6pm today, I was actually lamenting that I really hadn't some interesting bit of whimsy to blog about. I was considering something about my Stalking Cleaning Lady who may work for Arvin Sloane (she keeps it up, I may yet still), but it just wasn't flowing and darn it, I take pride in my efforts.
But at 7:45pm the Universe heard my pleas and delivered this boon. Granted it's not much, but when you can actually get a "What the... hell...?" out of me, you've got someting.
So I'm sitting in my steakhouse of choice, reading the latest issue of "Madara", awaiting yet another fine sirloin (medium, hot pink center, please) when, from behind, I hear a mom say the following to her kid (and I quote):
"Don't eat that or you'll smell like onions and I'll have to stick you in your room."
Cue my muttered "What the... hell...?" Does she find onions so offensive, she'd sequester her son at the faintest whiff? If so, what were they doing on the table to start with? If her son's digestive system is so suspect, what about baked beans or broccoli? (I'd bet there aren't any smokers in that house...)
Unfortunately, since I had my back to them, I couldn't turn around to see exactly what the kid had before him to elicit such a comment without being spotted by Grandma who was sitting across their table. (Curse my social considerations!) This must've happened before or something to that effect because ol' Granny didn't challenge the comment in the slightest. Maybe she was just stunned... Or maybe "Mom" was her daughter and Granny had stuck her in her room when she'd eat turnips...
It's past bedtime and my brain still can't wrap itself around this one. I've heard odd comments before, Dudette will testify I'm the source of a great many of them (For my money, nothing beats dropping "So I went to the store for a bucket of gravy..." into a conversation to get your very own "What the... hell...?" moment. It's bullet-proof, I tell ya!) But to the best of my knowledge, I've never considered making them a part of my child-rearing philosophy.
I shudder to think what "Mom" thinks of garlic...
But at 7:45pm the Universe heard my pleas and delivered this boon. Granted it's not much, but when you can actually get a "What the... hell...?" out of me, you've got someting.
So I'm sitting in my steakhouse of choice, reading the latest issue of "Madara", awaiting yet another fine sirloin (medium, hot pink center, please) when, from behind, I hear a mom say the following to her kid (and I quote):
"Don't eat that or you'll smell like onions and I'll have to stick you in your room."
Cue my muttered "What the... hell...?" Does she find onions so offensive, she'd sequester her son at the faintest whiff? If so, what were they doing on the table to start with? If her son's digestive system is so suspect, what about baked beans or broccoli? (I'd bet there aren't any smokers in that house...)
Unfortunately, since I had my back to them, I couldn't turn around to see exactly what the kid had before him to elicit such a comment without being spotted by Grandma who was sitting across their table. (Curse my social considerations!) This must've happened before or something to that effect because ol' Granny didn't challenge the comment in the slightest. Maybe she was just stunned... Or maybe "Mom" was her daughter and Granny had stuck her in her room when she'd eat turnips...
It's past bedtime and my brain still can't wrap itself around this one. I've heard odd comments before, Dudette will testify I'm the source of a great many of them (For my money, nothing beats dropping "So I went to the store for a bucket of gravy..." into a conversation to get your very own "What the... hell...?" moment. It's bullet-proof, I tell ya!) But to the best of my knowledge, I've never considered making them a part of my child-rearing philosophy.
I shudder to think what "Mom" thinks of garlic...
posted by The Doctor at Thursday, February 17, 2005
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