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June 17, 2006
II supreme moment in whiteness award: me
Let it never be said that I'm any easier on myself than on others.
I don't know if it's a midwestern thing or a white thing or just a John thing, but I'm one of those people who tag those irritatingly folksy terms of endearment to the ends of sentences.
"Hey, man."
"Whoa, dude."
"Think, boy."
"Back of the line, pal."
"Love you, hun."
"Thanks, buddy."
"Listen, sweetheart." (Former officemate Leslie: "How come when you coo "sweetheart," I hear you snarl "bitch?")
It's reflexive. I don't give any thought whatsoever to it. Which leads us to the other night at a nearby Indian casino, when I mindlessly thanked my Native American neighbor for the steak he'd just sliced me with "Thanks, Chief."
Jesus H.
Say, would you be a pal and hand me that rusty potato peeler?
He glared, then sighed, and I had one of those awkward moments of self-awareness. I hate self-awareness.
posted by john at 2:27 PM • permalink