Open mouth, insert foot.

In conversations, I sometimes use the wrong word in sentences. One crisp autumn day, when I was a freshman in high school, my drama teacher gave me wonderful news. During the last class of the day--which was English with my drama teacher--time passed as slowly as molasses on a cold day. I fidgeted in my seat, chewing fretfully on my pencil and trying to focus on the worksheet in front of me.

The dismissal bell buzzed like a horde of angry bees, and my classmates and I bolted toward the doors like a stampede of crazed cattle, me being the heifer in the lead.

The bus ride home was torture, and I unconsciously pushed against the back of the cracked and peeling seat in front of me, willing the bus to go faster. My best friend sat beside me and chattered happily, but she might as well have been talking to a brick wall; my mind was on getting home and sharing the incredible news with my parents. Soon, we reached my driveway, and I barely waited for the bus to stop before I charged down the aisle, off the bus, and down the shady tree-lined drive to my house. I swept into the front door with the force of a twister, threw down my books, and in a grand theatrical style, announced to my parents--who were in the living room--"Guess what?"

"What?" Daddy asked, taking a sip from his coffee cup and not bothering to look up from his paper.

"I'm a member of the lesbian society!"

Daddy's eyes bugged out like a bullfrog's and he blanched beneath his swarthy complextion as he choked and spewed coffee all over his newspaper.

"You're WHAT?" he spluttered.

I crindged in my Reeboks and took a step backward towards the door. Maybe this wasn't good news after all. I thought people liked actresses.

Mama laughed until tears came to her eyes. "No baby, you must mean THESPIAN SOCIETY."

"Yeah, that's it. What's the diff?" Mama took me aside and told me the difference. I blushed when I realized my mistake. Most people learn from their mistakes, but not me.

Years passed without incident until a few weeks before I married John. In the required interview before the ceremony, the priest asked me if I truly loved John. "Oh yes, I'm deeply in lust with him," I babbled happily. My response got me a discrete jab in the ribs from John, and a raised eyebrow from the priest. But wait. . .it gets better.


After my car accident several years ago, Mama stayed with us after I was released from the hospital. I don't like to take anything stronger than an tylenol, but because of my severe pain, I was forced to take a painkiller strong enough to knock a horse off it's feet. On afternoon was particularly trying for the family; I had a follow-up with the doctor, and John picked up his C-PAP for his sleep apnea. As soon as we got back home, I took a painkiller; I felt like someone was jabbing me with a hot poker all over my body. I turned on the TV, and collapsed on the couch while Mama sat in the rocking chair nearby.. The pill took affect immediately, and dimly I was aware of my mom groaning in the chair. Even in my condition I was alarmed.

"Are you okay?" I asked her groggily.

"Yes baby. Just having ANGINA pains."

"John, what are you doing?" I called.

"Just putting together my C-PAP, why?"

"Cause Mama is having VAGINA pains and might have to go to the ER. Mom," I slurred, feeling sleepier by the minute, "John is putting his PAP-SMEAR machine together. He'll take you to the ER if you need to go."

I was alarmed when I heard Mama laughing, not just a guffaw, but a side-splitter. "Oh baby, you've got that all wrong," she gasped. When she was composed, Mama told me what I said. "Need to watch the words you use, hon." she said.

As the years go by, I'm better about choosing my words and paying attention to what I say. It requires little effort on my part, but I prefer a keyboard and a monitor any day; at least I can press "delete" when I use the wrong word.