When it comes to social situations, I consider myself a solidly above average type person. My mama and pops raised me right and I know how to be a gracious hostess as well as a good guest. I pride myself in making my friends feel welcome, comfortable, and appreciated. Bottom line, I am not a rudester.
But you know, sometimes. My mouth gets ahead of me. And I embarrass myself. And when I do, I have to add to that embarrassment by telling people about it. So here I am, broadcasting my bad behavior. Sorry, mom. I mean well.
I have an awesome co-worker, who has now become my awesome neighbor, along with her enfianced. In previous posts, I have called these two H and R, although I am now seeing that reading initials in blog posts can be kind of a drag, so I shall have to come up with some sort of nicknamery for all the people I have been calling by their initials. I have nothing handy for these two right at this moment, but as I keep typing something will pop out of my brain I am sure.
So our awesome neighbors invited us over for dinner this weekend. And so we went. And it was so nice. Despite the arctic winds outside, all was cozy and fun and delicious and a nice way to get over the grumpy pants mood I had been in all week. They made us salad, and soup, and risotto to warm up our bellies. There were placemats. And napkin rings! We felt very special indeed. Not only that, but when we arrived, brownies were being baked so as to be warm and fresh for us after dinner!
It’s really easy to be a good guest with gracious hosts like these. One would think.
After dinner, we chatted and yukked it up for a couple of hours. And then it was time to head home. We bundled up in our coats and said our fond farewells to Hopscotch and Rambo (whoa. Where did THOSE nicknames come from? Hopscotch and Rambo? What is wrong with my brain? Oh well, that’s what popped out, so Hopscotch and Rambo it is. Tra la la, Hopscotch and Rambo. I should totally be a celebrity so that I can name my children names like this, shouldn’t I?) And as we did so, a thought occurred to me. We hadn’t eaten any brownies. And here’s where my mind went.
In all the fun we were having, we forgot to have dessert. If we leave now, Hopscotch and Rambo (oh dear god those nicknames) are going to go back into their kitchen, see that we all forgot dessert, and be all DAMN. I mean, if I had people over for dinner, and I made them brownies and then forgot to serve them, I would feel bad, right? So maybe I should do them a favor so that they won’t have to feel bad later, right?
And then I opened my mouth and said this.
“How about a brownie for the road?”
That’s right people. I DEMANDED my brownie. What the hell? What would possess someone to repay hospitality with this kind of behavior? We all forgot about the brownies, big deal. Shut up about it. Say thanks for the lovely evening and get yourself home. Only, honestly, I didn’t mean it as a demand. I meant it as a favor. To them. So that they wouldn’t feel bad later. And so that their brownies-for-guests efforts wouldn’t go to waste.
Really, it made sense in my head at the time.
Of course, Hopscotch and Rambo (ok, now it’s just sounding funny) were super gracious and cut us a big hunk of brownie to take home with us. And as soon as we left the house Nordic Boy looked at me and said “‘How about a brownie for the road’? Really?” to which I said “I KNOW. I AM SO RUDE.”
It comes from a good place. It really does.