By Kelly Sinon
I'm beginning to fancy myself a gracefully aging Shirley MacLaine, a la Steel Magnolias’ “Weezer.”
After telling my co-worker that in no uncertain terms that she seemed to have misplaced her head and put it where her rear end is, it occurred to me that I will be -and I quote from my own Facebook status- there may still be some sort of hope for me, since I am using, and am well-acquainted with, technology that has been invented after 1975- "the old lady who blurts out the uncomfortable truth at family dinners and county fair quilt judgings." Not only that, I am relishing it.
There is a certain invisibilty that my mother feared as she aged, that I’m becoming aware of at 41. Not that I am old, necessarily. I am in fact reminded how young I am when one of my friends mentioned a movie that was made fairly recently that I had to Google. But, I am thinking that my Weezerisms are coming more and more frequently in an effort to stave off people not seeing me. Maybe.
Since I was always a sort of "filter off'ed" type, I can only imagine it's going to get worse. Not for me, but for unsuspecting retail clerks with spinach in their teeth or ill-prepared family members' new significant others.
In my scenario, I'm sharp as a tack, and no one suspects that I'm just telling it like it is to ...well, tell it like it is. Rather, they will think, "Oh, poor (insert “Mom”, “Grandma”, “Aunt”, “cute lady with the cats”, “horrible old bat”, here) is slowly losing it. We'll humor her because she really didn't mean anything when she said, (insert acerbic sentence here).
I have a long history of struggling to keep my filter on, and it seemed the more I tried to Scotch tape it or Super Glue it in the “on” positon, the faster the fuse blew.
My sister and her friends were often the recipient of some of my thoughtlessness.
Weeks earlier, we’d been playing and teasing each other, seeing who could come up with the worst insult to the other.
Back and forth we went until I spluttered,”You…bloody stump!” it struck us both funny, and we used it often.
Fast forward a couple of months, when while in Canada on a dog showing curcuit, my 14-year old sister had the pleasure meeting a great kid, who began to woo her. He was cute, funny and best of all, nice to her little sister who tagged along. Everywhere.
Brad was so easy to be with that when we began our ritualistic teasing, he was included.
“You...backwards, backwoods jack ass,” he teased me, refering to the tiny, in fact correctly termed “backwoods” hamlet of Hayfork, where we lived.
“You…bloody stump,” I announced, which would have stopped the game cold, since it seemed to trump everything else and reduced everyone into fits of giggles, usually. This time, not so much. Suzie was glaring at me so hard, I thought I might turn to stone. I blinked.
I felt like I’d been slapped in the face, for remembering that Brad was missing a hand and sported a hook that he used deftly to open candy.
For once, I was speechless, but as always, embarrassed.
It didn’t last long, and the thoughtlessness that seemed to follow me everywhere as a kid, morphed into something else as an adult.
It just got too hard to try to keep the switch on, and I often made things worse when trying. So, the result is, if you’re being an Asshat, I’m going to say, “You’re being an Asshat.” I will try to say it nicely. I will even try to discourage you from being an Asshat in the future, but…you will know that I think you’re being an Asshat.
It just got too hard to try to keep the switch on, and I often made things worse when trying. So, the result is, if you’re being an Asshat, I’m going to say, “You’re being an Asshat.” I will try to say it nicely. I will even try to discourage you from being an Asshat in the future, but…you will know that I think you’re being an Asshat.
But I’m pretty sure that’s how “Weezer” got started.
