I talk a lot. I have no problem saying what I want, when I want, and often inappropriately.
Years ago The hubster and I had a "Hail and Farewell" to go to. He was a fairly new officer - even though he had been in for 15 years he had only been an officer for about 18 months. Anyway, a H&F is when you say "Fair winds and Following Seas" the the guys and gals heading to new Commands and greet the officers that have recently arrived.
The Hubster's bass at the time was a notorious yeller. To hear the guys describe it he turned into a slavering beast with bulging, throbbing veins who threw things and had spittle shoot out of his mouth while screaming at whomever was handy. This was everyone's impression. Socially he was a pretty nice guy. I was drinking beer - we all were. And, bless Hubster's heart, whenever let my glass get empty. This not only meant that I was pleasantly tipsy (okay, closer to hammered than tipsy) it meant that I had NO IDEA how much alcohol I had consumed. I am normally very careful and keep it to to or three drinks of an evening.. this night? Who knew? Certainly not me.
So, we get around to "farewelling" everyone and the Boss stands up to talk about one of the guys leaving. He proceeds to say that every time he had "chewed his ass" his wife had called to cry and whine for him. Everyone kind of laughed and then I spoke. Boy did I speak. I raised my glass and said "Good one Jim. How about we have all the guys turn around and we can see whose ass you've chewed the most?"
Dead silence. Complete and total shock on everyone' face. I thought the Hubster was going to choke to death, or choke me to death. The the Boss' wife laughed. She laughed and laughed and had tears running down her face. So, everyone else laughed with her. Disaster was averted.
So, intoxicated or sober I haven't ever had issues with words. I'm a chatterbox. I write long letters and e-mails. I wrote a book for goodness sake. And now, here I sit, outlining in my head because no sooner to I get revved to write and the words are gone disappeared. Out in the tether somewhere waiting for me to say or do the one thing that will bring them back. The weird thing is that writing this blog seems to present no problem at all.
Any ideas? I'll do pretty much anything except dance naked in the rain (wouldn't want to torture my neighbors) or kill a live chicken (just not my style). Okay, well, there might be other limits but we'll evaluate as suggestion come in... kay. thanks. bye.