Lapsus Linguae

By W. R. Jones


     I know this will be very difficult for you to believe, but I had a slight lapsus linguae at the gym last night.   This Latin for “slip of the tongue” is all I remember from the old school days when Latin was a required subject.  I expect I remember it due to ceaseless  practice.

     I was watching this fellow take a browbeating from a female personal trainer.   She was yelling at him to work harder.   The little voice of reason at the back of my head told me to shut up, but my mouth is at the front of my head and is way faster than reason.   So I says, “You are paying what $25 or $50 an hour to take this abuse?  You sir are an idiot.”    When my eyes met those of the instructor, the voice in my head went into overdrive looking for a way to dig myself out.  The best I could come up with in this full panic mode was, “Still, it is QUALITY abuse.”

     The incident was capped off when the man looked me up and down then said, “If that is the body you end up with on the do-it-yourself workout plan, my money is well spent.”   “Asshole” – was my reply (on the inside).



    I got this rose from the neighbor’s garden.   Given past acrimony over this “borrowing” of flowers without permission (strictly speaking), I thought it best if I nipped over there in the night.   I put on full black raider gear and started my mission.  There were a couple of unforseen obstacles.   One, the neighbor booby trapped the rose bushes by placing large piles of dog shit all around them, and yes I found them.   Two, in the dark you can’t see the thorns but they can see you.

    When one went in to the bone, I screamed like I had been scorpioned in the balls.  On come the spot lights and out come those crotchety biddies.   I flew over the fence tearing my new raider outfit.   When I went into the house I found I had dog stuff on my pant leg.   I took them off, tossed them into the laundry room, and shut the door; the wife can deal with it.

    Mango came sniffing around and I could read his mind like a large print Reader’s Digest, “Why doesn’t she throw him in the sink and scrub his butt raw like she does me when I poop myself?”

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23 Responses to Lapsus Linguae

  1. carolking says:

    OMG! I laughed out loud at both your stories. You are too funny and still insane!

    Lovely painting of the rose. Do you actually work at a full time job? You are certainly a dedicated painter.

  2. kevmoore says:

    The first question that popped into my mind was “you have bones in your balls?” But thankfully a second read through confirmed you were simply being allegorical. I was about to recommend a good filleter. Dog crap does have supernatural properties, does it not? Often, in the act of trying to avoid it, one’s foot seems to be drawn to it, even in broad daylight. I have been known to take some home in the car, unawares. (unawares , that is until the sun reaches its zenith, and I have discounted the possibility that my vehicle is secretly running on methane.)
    I’d watch that CarolKing if I were you – in between writing sublime songs, she might be working for the IRS. Tell her you can’t work- you’re bedridden with boneless balls.
    By the way, lovely rose – I’m sure it was worth the hassle…has the wife been in the laundry room yet? If so, replying with an”x” will suffice. I know its hard to type with broken fingers.

  3. bonnieluria says:

    And yet that rose shows such sensitivity and delicacy. Despite the loose tongue and blatant opinions, your brush work is so gentle and well controlled.
    Two out of four.

    In Carols’ defense, I also wondered, in between the gym, working, being a husband, and writing when DO you manage to squeeze in painting?
    They never look rushed…( well, maybe except for that singular eye and unattached nose..)

  4. wrjones says:

    Carol – I do work at full time job and only paint on Saturday and part of some Sundays. And 2 or 3 times a year I take a week off to travel with Trixie and Bubbles (my imaginary girl friends) to paint for an entire week. Now I’m working on large paintings so my supply to post is getting smaller.

    Kex – xxx

    Bonnie – you give the most interesting comments. The only reason I post is to hear from you.

  5. You work a full time job and only paint on Saturdays and a little on Sunday – crap! There went my excuse…
    Okay, now you’ve succeeded in shaming me into doing more….but I want you to know, painting on the weekends will seriously interfere with my standing rendevous with Jack Daniels and Mr. Davidson…

  6. carolking says:

    oh quit sucking up to Bonnie. You’re still not getting to stay at her place in St. Croix. I have the extra room booked for the next 50 years.

  7. Okay Bill I finally got my own WordPress pic. If, when you see it, it looks like you’re in trouble with your mom, then I chose the right photo.

  8. Michael says:

    You are indeed a curious fellow Bill. Loved to laugh with you when I read your posts. I believe in the idea that life is in the doing. It unfolds each moment layer by layer and so the rose is an apt metaphor for this. Kindest, michael [ of former cafe crem authorship–to busy focused on writing to post but do find the time to comment]

  9. wrjones says:

    Cara – Jack in one hand, brush in the other.

    Damn it, Carol, I don’t think she knew what I was up to. Thanks a lot! Can’t we share the room? I’ll do light housekeeping and feed that little lizard.

    Diana – you don’t look like mom at all. She always had a grimace on her face. I could never understand why. I would recommend you try on your clothes before you buy. That string bikini does not fit well; way to big! You look as lovely as your paintings!

    Michael – I think you are saying it is ok to take the neighbor’s roses.

  10. 100swallows says:

    This is a great rose, Bill, but I miss the pickers.

  11. Lori says:

    Gee Bill, don’t you know you are supposed to steal flowers from the cemetery, not the neighbors? I had this boyfriend once, thats where he got all my flowers.

    Lovely painting, stolen flowers are just like stolen oranges, twice as sweet.

  12. Barbara Pask says:

    I always enjoy myself when I come to read your blog, such funny stuff as always. When did you say your first book will be published? Your rose is just beautiful.

  13. I almost got thrown in Juvie when I was a teenager by pulling out all of the roses out of the science teachers flower beds. Roses are a lot of trouble!


  14. gypsy-heart says:

    Your rose is beautiful, but you are starting to really worry me! You are beginning to sound a little Van Gogh-ish. I think you know what I mean! :O eh, eh, eh

  15. wrjones says:

    100swallows – they were there off to the side. That is their shadow on the ground.

    Lori – WOW what a good tip. My anniversary is this week, guess where I’m going for flowers.

    Barbara – thanks. Lisa says my writing sucks so I’m not allowed to do a book.

    Lavanna – I’ve always had a thing for wild women. Do you do drink/drugs (and will you share) or just destroy flower beds?

    Gypsy-heart – Thanks, and yes, I’m a slice short of a peanut butter sandwich, but I still have both ears.

  16. Lori says:

    Oh no Bill, you started me thinking about PB&J sandwiches now! Or paintings of them. I don’t like them! Where would you hang them? And raw egg paintings, I don’t like those either.

    Don’t listen to Lisa, I love your writing, you could just cut and paste this blog into a book and there you go, I would buy it if it didn’t cost too much.

  17. wrjones says:

    Thanks Lori. I’m thinking $3.

  18. How dare that wimp question your physique. Obviously he’s never seen you bounding agile-like out the rose bushes to scape the biddies.

    Well, at least you made the dog proud!

  19. And I think the dew is still on that rose, too, by the way — that rose, like satin, it is.

  20. Lori says:

    $3. sounds great Bill! I would have paid $10. for it at least!

  21. wrjones says:

    Aletha – thanks. I hadn’t thought of that. Mango does seem to smile when I enter the room.

    Lori – the first book will be yours, and signed. Imagine your children’s children beaming on a future Antique Roadshow when they find out the value of a first edition is $10.

  22. Lori says:

    Ahh, just like I beam when I look at all the stuff Grandma left me with little notes that say, “This will be worth money someday!”

    She should have put little notes on stuff that say “This is utter crap and of no use to anyone!”

    I’ll leave a note in your book, it will say, “This is Bill’s book, very rare and valuable, keep it for your grandkids!”

  23. wrjones says:

    Lori – I can see the grandkids now, “Hey, Evelyn, I need something to get this fireplace going.” “Ok, here, let me tear a few pages out of Grandma’s old junk book.”

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