I Did Not Just Hear That

Sometimes our minds are a little preoccupied and we don’t fully process the words being spoken to or around us. This can cause some seriously embarrassing moments.

For example, today my oldest was telling me about what she and my second daughter were doing while I was at work. Keep in mind the second child just purchased an iPod Touch; which my oldest already has. “We were doing a group text.”

“WHAT – NOT MY LITTLE GIRLS!”

Then it registered…

“Oh, with whom?”

Perhaps if I had gotten more sleep the night before and also not been a little frustrated with something which happened at work I wouldn’t have made such a fool of myself. But yesterday certainly added to my chances of misinterpreting what was said. What happened yesterday, you ask…

Well, after she bought her iPad she was checking it out while the two younger sisters were watching a Scooby-Doo DVD. I was paying more attention to the DVD while the oldest was annoying kid number two about seeing her iPod, which is a 6th generation versus big sister’s 5th generation. Then I overheard, “Don’t touch it!”

“I let you touch mine all the time!”

Zoinks…don’t ever let me hear that again!

Oh, wait…processing. Okay, we’re good.

Dearly Beloved

I was never much of a Prince fan, but I sure do admire his talent and career. I can’t really tell you the names of the vast majority of his songs, but I do remember liking a song I heard on a radio only to be told it was Prince. Thinking about it after his passing I’ve come to believe that I probably did that with Prince more than any other artist. So, I understand why his death at the young age of 57 is being so widely reported.

However, I’m hearing a lot less about Chyna, the wrestler who died at an even younger 45. Why is this? Is it because, in the entertainment world, wrestling is the ignored child; much like in real sports circles ice hockey is known as the bastard love-child of lacrosse and figure skating?

Whatever the reason, rest in peace Prince and Chyna. May your families and fans find comfort in the lives you fully lived.

AMAM TOH

When I was growing up my mother had a plate on the front of her car which read, “American by birth, Southern by the grace of God!” I loved that. I don’t see too many of those around as I live in a state which requires the official license plate be mounted on both the front and back of the car. Occasionally I’ll see someone put something like the above plate on their dashboard or taped to their rear window for others to see.

The other day I read one…AMAM TOH. I was wondering, “What the heck is AMAM TOH?” Let’s see, I know an Imam is a Muslim worship official…so that’s not it. There’s beautiful supermodel, widow to David Bowie, Iman…but that’s not AMAM either. Okay, lets move onto TOH; that’s just a poor spelling of phalanges. Hmmm, I was baffled.

I made it home and was washing my hands in the bathroom when I looked in the mirror. I was wearing my Virginia sweatshirt, which appears backwards in the mirror. That’s when I realized AMAM TOH was nothing, it was just HOT MAMA because I saw that plate in my rearview. Gee, I’m a total SSABMUD! All that time I was trying to figure out what two words (which don’t even exist) mean, I could’ve been checking out the hot mama driving the car. Talk about a lost opportunity.

Well, I guess it’s really no big deal. After all, I’ve got one AMAM TOH at home, already!