My UnSmooth Moment

Today I had a funny thing happen. Funny things don't often happen to me, at least not with an adult context to them. Most of the funny things that happen to me involve mud, something plastic and some part of my daughter or her friends' hair. So I'm sharing. Mostly to see if I can get on the Bob and Tom Show , only the funniest morning radio show in the country.

My friend Sara, who is my lovely, funny, smart little bibliophile, is also my tactless bitch-sistah and potty-mouth partner. We often send surreptitious text messages to each other's phones when something funny and/or irritating is happening, or when she goes to the gym without me and the hot firefighters show up. It's like they know I'm staying home in my smelly fat pants that day. Sheesh. I never get to see the hot firefighters work out. (Not that I want to, honey, it's just an odd coincidence....)Anyway. I digress.

So I'm enjoying a quiet lunch out on my own (hell froze over--uh, my parents had the daughter while I was at acupuncture), and my phone gives the happy text chirp. I, feeling oh-so-hip, flip it open and read:
"_______________ is a fucking brat from hell". Or some such similar wording. Now, I know the child to whom she is referring, and yes, sadly that child is nothing but a fucking brat. We've all tried to feel differently about it but it's simply a fact: she's a fucking brat with a fucking clueless mother who thinks it's amusing. I feel for Sara, who is trapped at a church activity with her. So I sympathetically text back:
"No shit, Sherlock."
To which she replies:
"HOLY FUCK"
I chuckle, close my phone and leisurely finish my bagel and chai.

Flash forward an hour or two. I've driven 18 miles to my grandmother's house, to retrieve my daughter and have a visit. My aunt is in town today and tomorrow and I haven't seen her for a while. We talk, we laugh, we listen to my grandma bitch so sweetly about the time the church ladies barged into her hospital room when she'd broken her hip and wouldn't leave until she said "Please go and don't come back." I love my grandma. My aunt is pretty cool, too. She's 50 but looks about 40, wears designer everything and parties like it's 1999.
It's time to go home, the daughter is tired and figety, I have to drive in traffic back across the valley, I'm a little loopy from the acupuncture. I get the whiny grandpa-stimulated child into the car, hug people and promise to visit again soon, head home.

Around dinnertime, the phone begins to ring. We have a rule: we don't answer the phone at dinner. It's family time. If it's an emergency, people will keep calling and/or call the cel, which I will check if it keeps ringing. But tonight my cel never rang so I didn't worry much. Basically, if any part of your body is on fire and/or hanging over a cliff around 6 pm, call 911 or just plan on hitting redial.
After dinner, I check the voicemail. First, it's Sara:
"Call me. Now. Call my cel. Or my work. Call me. Call me now. Dammit. Call me." Huh. That sounds kinda important.
Next message. It's my aunt.
"Nessa, you left your phone here (she's breezy and chuckling), and I thought it was Mom's. I deleted some stuff from your messages. Teehee. I think I scared your friend. Hee. Uh, call grandma's house."
Oh.
Shit.
I call Sara first.
"First of all, I'm NEVER meeting your grandmother or your aunt. Gawd. Second of all, what the hell? Do you not delete old text messages? Dude, your aunt scared the crap out of me. I didn't know who the hell I'd texted what to!"

Apparently my well-meaning aunt thought my phone was my grandma's. She has one, and can never remember how to use it. So every once in a while my aunt or my dad will give her a refresher course in how to find the contacts and how to dial and to remind her she doesn't need to listen for a dial tone before calling out.

Auntie noticed there were text messages in the inbox. And read them. And was appalled that someone would send such things to an 82-year-old-woman. My aunt is a tough cookie, and she called back and let Sara have it. Sara is a tough cookie as well, but crumbled under the assault and shame and confusion of having sent the F-word and other choice tidbits to an old lady.

After laughing til I about peed, I assured her that my aunt was really cool, and that my grandma would probably laugh when it was explained to her.
Which she did, mostly, but was shocked that one of my friends would use "such nasty language".
"I know, Grandma, you'll have to excuse Sara. She was having a really bad day and having to deal with a really unpleasant person. She's sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry, Grandma."

She's sending home my phone tomorrow, with my dad when he takes my aunt to the airport. It'll probably be sealed in a ziploc baggie, reinforced with duct tape.

Maybe it's time to stop using the "F-word."

Do YOU have any good "unsmooth moments?" (Not affiliated with Keystone, Keystone Light or the Bob and Tom show. Just me. Wanting to see if anyone else is such a fucking idiot. Oops.)