Years ago, we had new neighbors move in to the upstairs apartment in the house next door. One Saturday afternoon shortly after the couple had moved in, I saw them out with their dog on the grassy median strip dividing our residential street. The couple was talking with some other neighbors, so I went out to say hi.
After meeting the friendly guy and his girlfriend, with no introductions to their scruffy dog sniffing at my feet, a question formulated in my head:
“Is that a male or female dog?”
(Because, really, how can you tell without being, y’know, obvious?)
In a moment of supreme brain-body disconnect, the question that came out of my mouth, however, was:
“Is that a dog?”
Write that down as an excellent example of how NOT to make a good first impression.
But it still cracks me up when I think about it, even though it happened over 25 years ago.
I probably take myself and the foibles of life too seriously much of the time. But I also love laughing at myself. Not in a way that feels like a self put-down, but in a way that makes me feel human and hopefully approachable, in an “I screw up, you screw up, we all screw up” kind of way.
If I’m at a party, I’m not alway a great conversationalist. I’m not especially politically astute (although for some reason lately, I’ve had more of an opinion than ever before – go figure). I’m not good at remembering details from trips and vacations, so I can’t name that “memorable” restaurant on the lake in Skaneateles, NY, and I can’t discuss which historic sites we visited in Philadelphia. (Other than the Liberty Bell, of course – the memory bar isn’t set that low.) I’m also severely “directionally challenged,” so don’t even ask me the best way to get from East Poestenkill to Cropseyville. You might end up in Massachusetts.
But I can tell a funny story about myself and I always seem to catch a listening ear.
Our imperfection – our vulnerability – is a great human connector. Like the K’nex building blocks that my kids played with years ago, it pulls us together and helps us stick with each other. In fact, a little more self-deprecating humor and a lot more K’nexing may be what the world needs right now.
I have far too many faux pas(es) to relate here, but I subscribe to your philosophy, Karen. Laughing is good, laughing at one’s self is better, especially if you’re willing to share. I did manage to fall flat on my face at the Kentucky Derby this year in front of 170,000 people. Luckily they weren’t using the Jumbotron at the time.
Oh no! I can’t say I can top falling in front of 170,000 people, Cathy! But you gotta laugh! Thanks for your comment.
Back in the 70s, I lived in Germany, where I was engaged as a leading soprano in one of the smaller opera houses there. The other leading soprano and I were in one of the productions together. One performance day they had to get a substitute for her, because she was sick.
Her husband was also a singer with the same company. I approached him, with two of the other male singers present, meaning to ask him how his wife was, if she was very sick.
My German was pretty good by then, but it was not infallible. Instead of asking him if she was VERY sick, I asked him if she was ACTUALLY sick! I got a shocked look from all three men, realized I had made a mistake, and asked the question again, using the right word! They almost pissed themselves laughing!
Kathy, that’s a riot! So glad you got that straightened out! Thanks for sharing.