Land of 1000 Euphemisms.

Normally I get guys. More than I get women, actually. Get as in understand, not get get. And yes, saying the same word twice changes its meaning. Sometimes, though, I just don’t get things at all. Two recent incidents come to mind.

The first one, yes, I’m an idiot but I caught on pretty quickly. I was in the kitchen, cookie dough ready to go, and I couldn’t find the racks. So there I was, slowly looking around, trying to find them. And things went roughly like this:

Hmmm…where….where…
What do you need?
Where are the racks? I NEED A RACK.
Well. It would appear to me that you already have one.

Yes, it took a second, but I did get it. The kitchen boys thought it was hilarious. Because they’re guys? Who knows.

The second incident needs some defense before I talk about it. You know how you get one idea in your head, and you just stay on that track? Well, I make good iced tea. May-B makes better, but if I make the effort and add sliced citrus to mine it is excellent. But the only thing I have to make it in is the plastic container we used to make Kool-aid with (no more K.A., too much sugar). It’s icky. If I was going to brew really good tea, and then slice up some nice lemons and oranges, I wanted a really nice glass pitcher for it. So that was my mind set.” Need something nice for iced tea”. Off to the store I went.

I get a few other things, but I cannot for the life of me find anything for the tea. At the front by the customer service counter there are four guys. As I stand there looking like I need help, things progress thusly:
Can I help you find something?
Yes. Do you have any jugs?
(giggle) What?
Do you have jugs?
(giggle giggle)
I’m sorry…you’re trying to find jugs? Giggle. And yet more giggles.
Yes! And what’s so funny? (At this point, I look just behind me, and see a whole display of jugs, but they’re the plastic kind, and too small. I brilliantly deduce that they are laughing because I want help finding something that I am standing beside).

Oh…you’re laughing because of the jugs right in front of me. Well, they’re too small! I want something much bigger. Big (and God help me I actually used my hands here) jugs.

(Gales of laughter. So much so that I thought one guy was going to pee).
WHAT IS SO FUNNY???
(Giggle). Jugs. You said jugs.

Light goes on in brain. I am mortified. They are vastly humoured. I leave the store jug-less. So to speak.

In a similar vein (well, similar in that I am still talking about guys, and body parts. Just a different part, and a different guy). I went to Campbell Collegiate two nights last week to listen to the kids band concerts. On the second night I was walking on the sidewalk behind a man who was with his son. They must have been going to the gym, because the son was wearing gym clothes and had a basketball under his arm. (Which begs the question: why bring your own basketball to a game at school? How different can they be?) The dad has that rumpled potato that just got off the coach look to him. He has shorts on, and one leg of the shorts is sort of ricked up. And…well…there he was, exposed to the world. So how on earth can you be outside, on a cool and breezy Saskatchewan evening and not be aware that your Johnson is out and about? HOW??