BLOOPERS

BLOOPERS
C 2008 JoJo

We all make bloopers at one time or another in our lives, but I seem to have a special talent for it – a talent I would just as soon not have.

I made a word association gaff in Brazilian school. The word “peru” when written with a capital letter is the name of the country Peru. In the lower case, it is also the word for the venerable bird, “turkey” but in the popular vernacular, it’s the slang word for a man’s “noble staff.” In school in class, I commented that “… mais peru nao sobe,” which translated means “turkeys don’t go up” (as in flying). Well, the entire class burst out laughing – including the teacher who couldn’t contain herself.

I can remember other bloopers I’ve made too, not in a sexual content, but otherwise. I was watching a football (soccer) match at the Cricket Club. There was one player on the field who was playing a dreadful game, as a result of which, our team was losing. I was getting more and more disgusted. I turned to a man sitting next to me in the bleachers.

“Who is that idiot playing such a horrible game today – number 11 over there?” I exclaimed pointing.

“Erm … he’s my son,” he replied!

I didn’t bat an eye. “Well, you must admit he’s playing a lousy game today, don’t you?”

The man sighed. “Yes, godawful as a matter of fact.”

I’ve always had a lousy memory for names. Faces I remember, but names no. Then I bought a nifty little book entitled HOW TO REMEMBER NAMES and the gist of this marvel of literature, was to superimpose a thing, an event or a place onto that person’s face and presto, next time you meet him or her, you’d instantly remember their name. I don’t mind telling you friends, I was excited! At last! A solution to my name remembering problems! I couldn’t wait to put it into practice!

A while later, I met a woman whose name was Mrs. Pentecost. Well that’s easy, I thought to myself, Pentecost is a feast of the Church and it begins with the letter “P.”

Some time later, I ran into this woman (only figuratively speaking, mind you – I didn’t knock the poor dear down on her keister). I rushed up to her with all the confidence in the world and said “Hi, MRS. PASSOVER.” Oh the chagrin and dismay, oh the embarrassment – especially as she thought I was mocking her name.

I went home and tossed that book.

I still can’t remember people’s names.

As if it’s not bad enough having a problem with remembering names, what is much worse is that I so often have a person’s name firmly lodged in my mind – and, it’s the wrong name! There was one guy I knew who joined the Writer’s Club I started up in Montreal. His real name was “Patrick” but I can’t tell you how often I called him “Ian.” To this day, he teases me about it! Then there is this guy I know whose name is “Greg.” Well, on countless occasions, I’ve thought of him as “Jeff.”

I can’t imagine why this happens. I have a pretty good memory for events, in minute detail too, but give me a name – any name – and I’m stumped. I think one of the synapses in my brain – that one that leads to remembering names – is AWOL, and I don’t think it’s going to come back to Mama any time soon!