I was at a noisy party, and my friend Mary was on one side of me, while Joyce was on the other, and we started talking about what fantastic hair Joyce has. And I dunno, I ended up touching her hair and saying “Wow, you really have a lot of hair!” And Joyce said “Yeah, my tub drain hates me.”
And Mary said “What!?”
And I repeated it to Mary, and she said “Oh! I thought you said your tangerine hates you, and I couldn’t figure that out.”
And Joyce said “My tangerine hates me, too.”
20ish years ago I was at Nobody’s Inn, talking to the drummer after a wonderful night of jazz, and Martin, the bass player, walks by us, then stops, takes one step backwards, looks at me and says, Dimple???
I was all, Whahh?
Didn’t you just say “Dimple”?
We went back and forth a few times.
My tangerine and I get along beautifully. But my apricot hasn’t spoken to me in years.
One fine evening, about 6 years ago, this guy walked up to me in a bar. “Hey,” he said, in his best sultry voice.
Not interested in meeting people at bars, but still feeling polite, I responded, “Hey, how’re you?”
Unfortunately, loud music garbled my words.
“Yeah,” he replied, still in sultry mode. “I noticed you, too.”
“Um, what?”
My confusion flustered him, and he dropped the sultry act (which was good, because it was annoying).
“Er, I mean… uh, hi. I’m Jack.”
We’ve been together ever since.
somehow a lady at work misunderstood something I said…thought I said “Chicken chewing gum”….
uuuuuuuuuuuh…….