Next Time I’m Getting Water

Maybe it was mercury poisoning from all the tuna I’ve been eating. Maybe my allergies ate the part of my brain that controlled vocabulary and logic. Maybe I was just tired from long, busy days on Friday and Saturday. I don’t know, but for whatever reason, I was feeling really slow last night. I kept having to ask people to repeat themselves. I kept having trouble understanding simple concepts like how to pay for dinner with a credit card. I just felt fuzzy and dumb, somehow, like I was coming out of a deep sleep or something.

This is the frame of mind I was in when I went up to the concession counter at the movie theater and very politely ordered a small Diet Cock.

I think my brain imploded right after that, because I had absolutely no recollection of what happened next until I reviewed it with Sammi later.

Evidently, I kind of choked on the K, so it was more like I ordered a “small Diet Coc–” and the girl behind the counter slapped her hand over her mouth in shock and stood there trying to recover until Sammi began to laugh like a maniac. Since Sammi was clearly there with me, her hysterical laughter gave everyone else permission to laugh, and laugh they did. I stood there in a haze of absolute mortification, turning redder by the second. The counter girl said, “I won’t even ask what you were thinking about,” as she handed me the Diet Cock and took my money. I regained my power of speech and began to apologize, swearing I wasn’t thinking about anything dirty and I wasn’t drinking and I wasn’t trying to be goofy, because at that time the biggest thought in my mind was that everyone there would think I had said it on purpose just to be, well, a dick. I was like “oh my God, I am so sorry, I’m never going to be able to come to this movie theater again,” and the guy behind me made a lighthearted comment about how everyone in line heard it and I turned and looked at him and he was a middle-aged guy with two teenagers and I was doubly, triply, quadruply horrified and apologizing and bleargh.

I’ve done a lot of embarrassing things in my life and as the shame from this one burns off, I might not rank this as my most embarrassing moment ever – but right now it’s really looking like a winner.

Comments 6

  • oh, lorie.

    at leasrt it was only one calorie.

  • It’s like the time the lady came in the bookstore and asked for some Scrotum Sheets… instead of Scantron….

    Dirty mind….

  • or, a wiener

    …at least, to everyone else anyway.

  • […] At some point, one of my sisters asked me if I’d told Dad about the Diet Cock incident, although she used some kind of code because none of us is comfortable saying “cock” around our dad. It’s not a word I say out loud all that often anyway. I said I hadn’t told him, because it would be awkward, but if they wanted him told then Mom had to tell him because I’d called her in Atlanta and told her the story already. And Dad’s like, “What, the concession stand thing? Yeah, I already heard about that.” And Mom says she didn’t tell him, and everyone wants to know how he found out, and he says, “I think I read it on your website.” […]

  • it’s pretty funny that you wrote that… hazmatt and i deliberately refer to diet coke as diet cock. i can’t remember why. we just do. he had to really censor himself when he was over and my mom was home. “hey alex, can i have..” he cut off. “what? you want a…” he looked at me, “yeah.. um.. a diet..” i made a face. “..co…ke?” he smiled. “yes. yes, please.” i dunno that my mom would have understood. then again, i don’t understand. so .. whatevs. point: what embarrasses you, we do on purpose. i think there might be a lesson there. … about us. and our madness.

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