I have a bad habit of eavesdropping (only I use the old-fashioned term, “hearing”). Gary and I will be at dinner, he’ll see my eyes drift away, and then I’ll say, “This guy is hitting on this woman and they are taking a break from her husband’s visitation.”
“Ellen, stop that, it’s rude.”
“Rude? Her husband just died. A few days ago!”
“I hate that you do this.”
“Oh, yeah, he’ll be your shoulder to cry on. Weasel.”
So this is what I overheard at Graceland:
“Women are stupid. I mean, they may be a good as us when it comes to book learning, but they just have no common sense. They’re only good for one thing, and that’s screwing.”
It went on in this vein for forty-five minutes until I got up and switched seats with Gary. The man’s story was that his wife of twenty years made an error in judgment letting their youngest go out on Saint Patrick’s Day, and he had to pin her down on the floor and not hit her, and he told the counselor that, and it was wrong to pin her down on the floor, but the stupid bitch wants a divorce now.
The thing is, it took forty-five minutes of woman-bashing to get to the satisfying conclusion that ‘Sherry’ has gained some sense and is leaving this tool. During that forty-five minutes, I had to hold my tongue. I don’t suppose I had to, but I didn’t want a confrontation with such an angry man, and I do have common sense in addition to book-learning.
It did, however, ruin my lunch of god-awful tourist food. I thought, you know, this must be a molecular version of what being African-American in America is like, asshats sitting by you and commenting on your demographic.
In conclusion:
1) I say “asshats” because it seems to be what the kids say. Why, I don’t know. Why not ass-shoes? Assbags, there you go.
2) I know being on only the second rung of American society is not really comparable to being an African American anywhere in the U.S. And, on a related note, I was surprised to discover that Gary thinks Bongo is African! He is so NOT African. He is from the Indies and works on Missy’s father’s tea plantation. SO I’m still politically incorrect, just only for the British readers.
9 responses to “Memphis: The Asshole Who Sat Behind Us At Graceland”
I prefer assclown. It gets the point across, and if I think of that person dressed as a clown, crawling out of a giant asshole, it kind of makes me smile. And then I’m not so angry.
I am pointlessly annoyed that I missed Missy and Bongo within ten days and three hundred miles….My aim will simply have to get better.
“Asshat” I believe originated on “That 70s Show” wherein the father was always threatening people with making them wear their ass for a hat.I “hear” things too.
Erin – Orrrrrr: assworm! Because clowns, they scare me.Becs (or should I call you ‘Auntie Becs’) – Man. Then again, you wouldn’t recognize me since I have gained about 30 pounds since any of these photos were taken.Jammies – We call it hearing. Some also call it “hypomanic auditory acuity.” Tomato-tohmahto.
Your Majesty, you don’t happen to have olfactory hallucinations, do you? So far, I’m the only MS’er I’ve met who has them.
Nope, not me. You are still special. Are they enjoyable smells?
ass-munch, I think, is my preference.
I’ve gotta say that I really like assbag. Perhaps it will make it’s way into my vocabulary. You know, this is exactly why I come here…to gain knowledge.
Jenny – Hmm, assmunch. Let’s expand on that. Assnibbler? Assmasticator? Autumn – I live to serve.