I may be sausage, but you're nuts!

The BBQ Pit
1

Recently, some cosmic force (CF) seems to have come to the decision that one of the roles of mentally ill persons in our society is to insult your humble poster, mischievous. I’m not sure how I feel about this dubious honor, since it shows that the CF cares about me, but it also suggests that CF doesn’t much like me. Witness the following incidents:

The first incident in the series happened at a nightclub where I work as door girl on some Fridays. The club is owned by an elderly Chinese couple. The wife speaks marginal English at best, and is clearly off her rocker. Despite some inappropriate behaviors, she is basically a sweet, happy, little old Chinese lady, and I have no problem with her.

Being a door girl is not exactly an exciting position. I’d much rather be on the dance floor. I like dancing. Dancing is sexy. And, even though I’m an enormously obese woman, I dance well, and many people compliment me. So, when I’m bored and my ass is starting to hurt, I get up and dance behind my little door girl desk. The owners love this. The husband buys me drinks, and the wife comes over and does a little crazy-old-lady two-step with me before wandering on her addle-brained way.

So I’m dancing one night, and the wife comes up. She does a peppy little shuffle with an enthusiastic grin, slaps me on the arm, and chirps in her heavily-accented English “That’s right! You dance! Exercize! Move that fat ass!” And marches out the door, grinning cheerfully.

Any other person would have gotten themselves punched in the face. But I’m standing there laughing my ass off. It’s really hard to get terribly offended when the person insulting you is just batty. She clearly had no idea how inappropriate (much less how potentially hurtful) her words were. I don’t even know if she meant it the way she said it - it may have been a crazy-non-English-speaking attempt at “shake that booty, honey!”

So I told all my friends, who all thought it was at least as funny as I did, and forgot about it. In the meantime, there have been several instances of verbally abuse by not-quite-altogether-there homeless men, but that’s par for the course in New York, so I don’t remember what any of them said.

The lastest incident happened on Sunday, when mischief-lover and I were happily strolling about in the spring sunshine. A man was staring intensely at me as we walked down the block toward him. Staring with offensive intensity, actually, and going so far as to rotate his body to maintain a full-frontal stare as the angles changed with our approach. As we drew even with him, he spat out - in the meanest, most insulting tone possible - “Okay, liverwurst!”

Now, he obviously was trying to insult me. And it’s even possible that, in his mind, he succeeded. This points out a fatal flaw in CF’s plan: nut-jobs aren’t very good at making up cutting remarks. Even if they hit a sore spot, it’s hard to work up much emotional trauma, when you consider the source. If CF is trying to send me a message, it’s getting lost in translation. All in all, I think that the maniacs should give up on this segment of CF’s directions and move on to something more productive, because I just can’t take them seriously.

So all you fruitcakes out there listen up: I may be fat. I may be stupid, cheap, ugly, poorly dressed, or a goat-felching titwrench. I may even be okay liverwurst. But you’re crazy!.

mischievous

2

Heh. Reminds me of a trip I took with a bunch of classmates and a couple of professors in grad school. There we were, riding happily along in one of the university vans, and one of the Chinese professors (recently arrived from overseas…God love him, he was trying, but he could barely speak English) turned around amiably to address one of my good (and a little overweight) friends.

“So, terr me, Rob. Have you arways been prump?”

I thought I was going to shit myself.

Unfortunately, the night before the return trip, all the students went out and got knee-walking soused because we won the competition we had traveled for. As a result, I was feeling quite peaked on the trip back. It was winter, and the little van was shut up tight. I lay across the back seat and tried to catch a little sleep, but this awful, godforsaken stink suddenly began making me green. I had been barely controlling my gorge up until then, but this miasma made me want to lose it. I sat up and irritably demanded (with my department head and everyone listening):

“What the FUCK is that awful stench?!”

No one reacted. A buddy told me later that it was the visiting professor’s breath. Good God. I felt like shit for yelling it, but I was sick and HOLY GOD, HIS BREATH WAS SO BAD IT WOKE ME UP.

I see I’ve digressed. Um, sorry.

3

Liverwurst? What kind of insult is that? :confused:

Now, if he’d said bratwurst… :wink:

4

There’s a woman at church who has Down’s Syndrome and Alzheimer’s (yes, this is a wicked combo, and very difficult for her parents, who are elderly). To her, everyone falls into one of three categories: invisible, well-liked, despised. And she can only really like one person at a time. (I am invisible, BTW) My sister was invisible for a while, then became the well-liked one. Then, inexplicably, she fell out of favor and became despised. Now, if sis ever makes direct eye contact, the woman will stick her tongue out and make a really awful face at her (this mortifies her mother, but sis has learned to just laugh it off–and to try not to make eye contact!). I can’t help laughing, though, every time sis sighs and says she wishes she was invisible again!

5

Holy shit, Down’s Syndrome and Alzheimer’s!?! She’d really be mean to me!:slight_smile:

Then I would’ve called him a wiener!

Okay, that’s an old joke. I’m sorry.

mischievous