There’s cursing in this post. Don’t yell at me; it’s pertinent to the telling of the story. I’m still scared of you, but I can also run faster than you and I am not afraid to use this to my advantage. (That’s the part where you laugh, NOT the part where you chase me with a paddle…just making sure we’re clear on that.)
Your Charming Daughter
*Dear Everyone Else,
Pick on me for writing disclaimers to my mother if you must, but that woman can still beat me so I regret nothing.
Yesterday, I started a Basic Rider Course which is a motorcycle safety course for – you guessed it – beginning riders. For those of you with your chins on the ground, yes, I am learning how to drive a motorcycle. Yes, eventually I’m going to get one. For now though, my husband will just have to share his. And no, you won’t be in danger on the roads. I’d watch out if you’re in front of any trees, bushes or road signs though…could get a little iffy.
Anyway, there are 10 people in my class & I sit at a table with two other ladies. The first order of business for the class was, of course, introducing ourselves and trying to get comfortable with one another. As an icebreaker, the instructors asked everyone to talk amongst their groups and come up with a collective group name. Apparently, I sit at a table with two terminally shy ladies because neither of them would discuss group names with me or anything else for that matter. They did not open their mouths at all.
The instructors turned to us rather quickly expecting us to have a group name readily available. We were entirely unprepared. Because my team hadn’t so much as made a peep, I sighed “shitoke’ mushrooms” because that’s what I do when I’m exasperated.
*Side note: It’s a habit that I developed because I didn’t want to cuss in front of my kids. Not to mention because I think excessive cursing does little to convey one’s point in the first place. When I use expletives I want it to mean something. I want a reaction. I want the kids to go, “Oh crap, mom said the ‘S’ word…we better do what she said.” That doesn’t happen when you drop F bombs like nuke’s over Hiroshima. In this case, my husband is the nuclear version of expletive use that you just have to throw on a hazmat suit and get used to whereas I’m more like small land mines that you tread carefully & then run like hell if you activate one.*
Upon hearing ‘shitoke’ mushrooms’ the instructors (& pretty much everyone else in the room) burst out laughing. After everyone regained control of themselves, (& I explained my preference for not cursing in front of my kids thereby using creative phrases like ‘shitoke’ mushrooms’ and ‘poop in a basket’) one of the instructors wrote, “Holy Shitoke'” on the board as our group name.
In conclusion, I’m now in a beginner’s motorcycle safety course and my group name is essentially Holy Shit. Nothing good can come of this.