I’ve spent a lot of time on this blog focusing in on the weird and generally stupid things other people say. Because, probably not all that surprisingly, people say a lot of weird and/or stupid things. And I’ll be one of the first people to admit that I am a weirdo and say dumb stuff, but today really takes the cake.
Injury can sometimes lead to stupidity: I bit the inside of my upper lip the other night, three times because why not, and that inevitably led to my having two awesome canker sores (technically three, but one is remarkably smaller than the others and often goes unnoticed — sorry, little guy). I was trying to push through it, even though you can see them when my mouth is open wide enough, even though they’re now completely affecting the way I speak, even though the right side of my jaw is beleaguered over chewing everything. Something had to give, though.
But I didn’t want to deal with racists/serial killers, so I opted for Rite Aid this afternoon. And, in fact, the pharmacist was really nice, so maybe I should stick with them from here on out. I digress. I walked up to the pharmacy counter to ask about the plethora of canker sore treatment options readily available to me (seriously, like, fifty … or something), and I said, quite confidently I might add, possibly the weirdest thing that’s ever come out of my mouth in a public place.
“I have two canker sores the size of CHILDREN in my mouth right now …”
Of all the things in the universe — all the things, people — I decided children were the most logical option. This brings to mind, of course, a very unique mental image. And suddenly I realized how easy it is to say weird, generally stupid things. They can just fly out your mouth — fall trippingly off the tongue — into the air and their soundwaves can hit other peoples’ ears before you can suck them back in.
The pharmacist, I am pleased to report, remained unphased by my odd statement and proceeded to help me decide upon the best canker sore treatment for my current situation. I appreciated his willingness to overlook my apparent, public distaste for children and pathetic attempt at hilarity. His face said, “Yeah we get people with child-sized canker sores all the time,” although chances are his mind was thinking, “You might be a serial killer.” Or, you know, a weirdo.
To set the record straight: I’d say they’re about 1 carat in size each, which is nothing to sneeze at but nothing in comparison to your four-year-old.
I’m also pleased to report: The goopy stuff he chose doesn’t taste half as bad as you’d think, although you probably won’t catch me sucking on the tube any time soon.