Inappropriate

It’s funny how what’s funny usually shouldn’t be and that’s why it is.

For example: Your bosses best friend swaggering into the office and then walking smack, bang into the sliding glass wall of the bosses super trendy fish bowl office. It took astounding strength to suppress my laughter and focus my energy instead on scolding the others who were laughing.

Okay, maybe that is not so inappropriate. It was kak funny though!

I often laugh when I find out that someone’s died. Especially if it is an un-known friend or relative of someone I know who has died. It’s dead embarrassing, but I do. I don’t really think it’s funny. Not at all. I think it’s more just the shock. My brain doesn’t know how to deal with the information so I just titter. It’s almost as if some small, sadistic part of my brain is thinking “What is the worst thing you can possibly do right now?” and then does it without my permission.

It’s that same small part of my brain that keeps on saying things are ‘fat’, ‘huge’ or ‘enormous’ when I am with someone who is remarkably over weight or that orders a messy spaghetti at a meal with someone who makes me nervous. It’s my built in self-sabotage device.

I have an uncanny knack for accidentally saying exactly the right wrong thing in any social situation. Tailor made inappropriate remarks and reactions. I will be getting along fine, keeping it in line, professional, appropriate. I will get by for hours, days, even weeks at a time, and then suddenly – whoops! In a moment of unguarded weakness I say something completely over the line, or send out a group e-mail to the office with highly offensive Oscar Pistorius jokes as the news hits that he murdered Rita Steenkamp. People are in shock and mourning and I am sending a mail saying not to worry because when it goes to court he won’t have leg to stand on.

Just last week I went into Pick ‘n Pay and saw a man have a heart attack. There were paramedics and ambulances and people everywhere. It was awful. I was truly disturbed by the whole affair – but when asked about it a few minutes later I couldn’t help but quip that it must have been the prices.

So the question is – why? Why do I say the absolute worst possible thing at the most serious of times? Why I do I feel my mouth opening and hear words come out of it teasing my boss, or scarier yet, some of my colleges, when they are in a bad mood?! It’s the same little part of my head that has flash visions of tipping coffee over keyboards, thrusting scissors into things and jumping off of precipices. I don’t do these things, but sometimes out of nowhere these flashes will strike of the worst possible thing that I could do at that moment. I am not scared of heights because I think I will fall, I am scared because I am afraid I might jump in an unguarded moment.

Does everyone feel like that? Does everyone secretly field mental images of biting cute guys and pouring tea over people? Do the rest of the world also unconsciously self-sabotage all of their most important and nerve wracking moments by just saying, doing or eating the worst possible thing?

( I sometimes wonder if I unconsciously do stupid things when I am nervous just to get them out of the way so that I don’t have to worry anymore about making a good impression.)

Or is it just me who is so specially afflicted by worst case scenarios, uncomfortable images of naked, ugly co-workers and verbal diarrhea?

In some ways I hope it’s everyone so that I am not a freak. But then again I partially hope it is just me. Because if everyone else is running around with heads as full of crazy inappropriate Ideas as I am, I am glad that I don’t read minds.

It All Comes Down to the Ball

ballsIt’s funny isn’t it, how much focus and attention is laid upon this simple spherical shape we call a ball.

You might almost call the ball a magic shape. It must be, although the oblong rugby ball is as magical.

So I suppose they are magical objects. They must be.

How else can we explain the enormity of what they are? What other small, inanimate objects attract thousands of people to come and watch them being thrown, kicked or smacked around?

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