The Brain and Mouth Show
My brain and my mouth have some communication issues. My brain is the sensible one, always coming up with practical solutions to problems and witty responses to things people say to me. My mouth, on the other hand, is a bumbling idiot whose sole purpose seems to be embarrassing me in front of important people.
Like the police, for example.
(Sit down Mom, it's not as bad as it sounds.)
The preschool we go to was recently burglarized. The thieves carted away a bunch of files containing personal information on the families enrolled in the school. Everyone is really worried, and e-mails have been flying back and forth on how to protect yourself from identity theft. You might say we are all in a bit of a tizzy. Because that's fun to say.
Well, today at school a truck drove into the parking lot and dropped a man off who proceeded to walk around the building, looking in windows and trying to open people's car doors. We locked the school's door and called the police. Just before they arrived, I saw a pick-up (presumably the same one) drive through the parking lot again, with the man back in the passenger seat. Before they were out of sight, I wrote the license plate down and tried to give it to the dispatcher we were on the phone with. "Tried" is the operative word here. My mouth was insolently refusing to obey my brain, apparently determined to make a fool of me. While my brain calmly read the license numbers from the piece of paper in my hand, my mouth scampered around like Alvin on crack.
A-3-2 read my brain.
"The first number is really a letter and it is A! As in ALICE!" Said my stupid mouth.
...3-2-6-N-1 my brain continued serenely.
"And here come some real numbers, 3, 2, 6, and then another letter! This one is N! As in... as in noodle? No, Nancy! N as in NANCY!" Yelled my deranged mouth. "And then 1. The last number is 1. No more letters. Did you get all that?"
You sound like a complete wacko, my brain told me reasonably. Tone it down a bit.
The dispatcher then asked me to relate my version of what happened. Off went my mouth, wandering randomly around the story and possibly speaking in strange tongues. I can't be sure, because at this point my brain abandoned me completely in an effort to distance itself from the embarrassment.
"I'm not sure I understand the sequence of events," the dispatcher said. My mouth tried again, still dancing the jitterbug on top of what should have been a simple narration.
I found my thrill... on blueberry hill... my brain hummed distractedly. (I guess it finds Louis Armstrong helpful during stressful situations.) On blueberry hill... when I found you...
"Please put the teacher back on the phone," said the dispatcher curtly.
You are such a dork my brain announced, back on the scene. "You just shut up," muttered my mouth, and clamped itself shut under the questioning stares of the other people in the room. Another humiliating moment brought to you by the Brain and Mouth Show!
The problem is, situations like this are just so typical. The one I find myself in most often is when someone compliments me on a piece of clothing or accessory. My ladylike and refined brain responds with a breezy Why, thank you so much! While my mouth goes on to describe in detail the shopping trip during which it was purchased, including price, location, and the current state of affairs in rural Indonesia. My complimenter takes a step back, stunned by the deluge of irrelevant information, and tries to decide whether running for their life would be a socially acceptable response.
As we can see in today's example, things are getting kind of out of hand. I'm considering sending my brain and my mouth to couples counseling so they can resolve their communication problems. I would just read a book, but I'm afraid my brain would do the serious reading while my mouth spouted off distracting and annoying comments. In the event that you and your partner are unable to reach any kind of consensus during your- "Hey, did you know that more than 90% of shark attack victims survive?"
Perhaps I should just go to the store for some duct tape and "A Couple's Guide to Communication" and hunker down for a long night.
Like the police, for example.
(Sit down Mom, it's not as bad as it sounds.)
The preschool we go to was recently burglarized. The thieves carted away a bunch of files containing personal information on the families enrolled in the school. Everyone is really worried, and e-mails have been flying back and forth on how to protect yourself from identity theft. You might say we are all in a bit of a tizzy. Because that's fun to say.
Well, today at school a truck drove into the parking lot and dropped a man off who proceeded to walk around the building, looking in windows and trying to open people's car doors. We locked the school's door and called the police. Just before they arrived, I saw a pick-up (presumably the same one) drive through the parking lot again, with the man back in the passenger seat. Before they were out of sight, I wrote the license plate down and tried to give it to the dispatcher we were on the phone with. "Tried" is the operative word here. My mouth was insolently refusing to obey my brain, apparently determined to make a fool of me. While my brain calmly read the license numbers from the piece of paper in my hand, my mouth scampered around like Alvin on crack.
A-3-2 read my brain.
"The first number is really a letter and it is A! As in ALICE!" Said my stupid mouth.
...3-2-6-N-1 my brain continued serenely.
"And here come some real numbers, 3, 2, 6, and then another letter! This one is N! As in... as in noodle? No, Nancy! N as in NANCY!" Yelled my deranged mouth. "And then 1. The last number is 1. No more letters. Did you get all that?"
You sound like a complete wacko, my brain told me reasonably. Tone it down a bit.
The dispatcher then asked me to relate my version of what happened. Off went my mouth, wandering randomly around the story and possibly speaking in strange tongues. I can't be sure, because at this point my brain abandoned me completely in an effort to distance itself from the embarrassment.
"I'm not sure I understand the sequence of events," the dispatcher said. My mouth tried again, still dancing the jitterbug on top of what should have been a simple narration.
I found my thrill... on blueberry hill... my brain hummed distractedly. (I guess it finds Louis Armstrong helpful during stressful situations.) On blueberry hill... when I found you...
"Please put the teacher back on the phone," said the dispatcher curtly.
You are such a dork my brain announced, back on the scene. "You just shut up," muttered my mouth, and clamped itself shut under the questioning stares of the other people in the room. Another humiliating moment brought to you by the Brain and Mouth Show!
The problem is, situations like this are just so typical. The one I find myself in most often is when someone compliments me on a piece of clothing or accessory. My ladylike and refined brain responds with a breezy Why, thank you so much! While my mouth goes on to describe in detail the shopping trip during which it was purchased, including price, location, and the current state of affairs in rural Indonesia. My complimenter takes a step back, stunned by the deluge of irrelevant information, and tries to decide whether running for their life would be a socially acceptable response.
As we can see in today's example, things are getting kind of out of hand. I'm considering sending my brain and my mouth to couples counseling so they can resolve their communication problems. I would just read a book, but I'm afraid my brain would do the serious reading while my mouth spouted off distracting and annoying comments. In the event that you and your partner are unable to reach any kind of consensus during your- "Hey, did you know that more than 90% of shark attack victims survive?"
Perhaps I should just go to the store for some duct tape and "A Couple's Guide to Communication" and hunker down for a long night.
December 16, 2005