I worked at a zoo as a tour guide for a couple of summers. You know, one of theose guys who drives the tram while pointing out interesting facts about the animals. I prided myself on giving enthusiastic tours, but when you give several dozen a day, you can sometimes tend to phase out and go on autopilot. (I think I still remember the spiel, word for word, 30 years later).
As we were passing the enclosure for the maned wolf, I went into my normal spiel but caught myself saying, “. . . and with its 18 inch tongue, it can strip leaves from the thorny tree tops.” Yep, for some reason, I started talking about the giraffe. People started to lean forward, trying to get a glimpse of that poor wolf’s freakish tongue.
Either you mean Judge Roy Bean (probably not but it probably would’ve been a pretty good show) or Judge Joe Brown.
Not exactly verbal but since I’ve posted, I’ll share it.
My family has never been physically or emotionally demonstrative. My parents and grandparents were from a more stoic era, especially the men. However, when I went away to college I fell in with a set of friends who regularly hugged/kissed hello and goodbye.
The first time back home visiting I greeted my grandfather with a hello and a hug. It was like hugging a tree and he, I think, was left pretty much speechless. I never did that again.
To highjack just for a minute: You know, I’m one of those guys like your grandfather who’s never felt really comfortable with hugging, and when my nieces hug me, I react the same way your grandfather did. I can’t help it. But I’m glad they keep hugging me just the same.
Yeah, my then-fiance-now-husband, from an Italian family and thus very kissy-huggy, ended up greeting my very stoic (Dutch descent, too) grandmother with a hug and kiss on the cheek the first time he met her. That’s what you do to grandmas, after all - at least, that’s how he was raised. She froze and looked stunned and confused.
I come from a huggy people. At least on my dad’s side. When I was living in the dorms - my dorm mates used to always get so tickled when my dad came to see me. “We love when your Dad comes - we always get such nice hugs!”
Y’know what’s sad? After typing that - I realize there’s no way for that to come across as less than potentially creepy - except that’s the very thing the girls loved about my dad - he gave genuine hugs - not lecherous dirty old man gropes.
A sweet elderly woman I work with has been known to do that; I’ve seen her a couple of times. She’s a fanatic for Gummi Bears, so one day I made her some (recipes below). She grabbed me in an enormous hug and said “I’ll love you forever!” Sweets for the sweet, I say.
I think I might have posted this before.
Gummy Squares Recipe
Make a 4x6 inch tray of aluminum foil a half-inch deep or so and set it on a small cookie sheet. Put 1 package Jello (with real sugar, not artificial sweetener) and 5 envelopes of unflavoured gelatin (or just 7 envelopes of gelatin and about 1/3 cup of honey) in a small pot with 1/2 cup of water (maybe a bit less for the honey flavour), and stir until thoroughly mixed. Keep stirring as you put on low heat, and stir until everything is completely dissolved or a bit longer. Pour evenly into the pan you made and put it in the freezer for 15 or 20 minutes to set. Peel off the foil and cut into squares. Package with waed paper between layers.
Me (knowing my wife is the only person that calls me at work): “Hi, sweetheart!”
Male Boss: “Gee, Asi…I didn’t know you felt that way.”
I am told, although I have not seen it in a mirror, that that was one of the rare occasions that a real blush managed to shine through my dark complexion. My coworker was almost as embarrassed for failing to warn me that it was my boss on the line, which was unusual. Almost.
I’ve done the inappropriate “Love you!” to my ex-boss.
I think what was worse, though, was what happened to me when I was working in marketing at a law firm. I was there with a couple of friends and sitting next to one of the male associates. It was hard to hear because a band had just arrived and were setting up and testing their instruments. Anyway, this guy and I were on pretty good terms, but strictly platonic, though close enough that we’d occasionally pinch a bite of each other’s food or drink. So, I sit down and drink splashes on my fingers. It was a chocolatini (and very delicious). Still, my hands were sticky, so I needed to wash them. I leaned in, offered him a taste of my drink, then pointed in the direction of the bathrooms (behind his head, so I was pointing at him) and said, “Be right back.” What I meant was, “Hey, have a drink while I go to the bathroom.” But he thought I asked, “How do you like that?” Because he looked at me weird, shrugged, leaned forward and sucked drink off my finger, then said, “It’s not bad.” I had no idea what to do, so I just stared at him for a second. Apparently he realized I hadn’t meant for him to taste it on my finger, because he turned bright red. I said, “Oh, good. Well, you can have some from my glass, you know,” then scampered off the bar stool and almost ran to the bathroom.
Every opportunity we got after that, we’d say, “How do you like that?!” and laugh like hyenas.
