So the other morning, I was enjoying some brunch with a group of girlfriends. An acquaintance of one of the girls comes up, and we begin discussing the Walk for Autism that was held that morning. Without even thinking twice, I said, "Oh! One of my kids' moms helped organize that!" The woman had a perplexed look on her face, and I could read her thoughts: "One of her kids' moms??" I instantly clarified that I meant one of my students' moms.
I've made several more "kids" references this week, and it reminded me of a joke my mom emailed me a while back because she knows that I use this term of endearment. Her preface suggested I watch my words at the grocery store when talking to men. Keep in mind, I am hit on every time I'm at the grocery store. It's just usually (okay, always) by little old men buying a six pack and some chicken, and we discuss how he's going to prepare his chicken and what I'm making for dinner over the gentle hum of a conveyer belt. I'll flirt with whatever I can get sometimes.
Anyways, here it goes:
A guy goes to the supermarket and notices an attractive woman waving at him. She says hello.
He's rather taken aback because he can't place where he knows her from.
So he says, "Do you know me?"
To which she replies, "I think you're the father of one of my kids."
Now his mind travels back to the only time he has ever been unfaithful to his wife and says, "My God, are you the stripper from my bachelor party that I screwed on the pool table with all my buddies watching, while your stripper partner whipped my butt with wet celery?"
She looks into his eyes and says calmly, "No sir, I'm your son's teacher."
He's rather taken aback because he can't place where he knows her from.
So he says, "Do you know me?"
To which she replies, "I think you're the father of one of my kids."
Now his mind travels back to the only time he has ever been unfaithful to his wife and says, "My God, are you the stripper from my bachelor party that I screwed on the pool table with all my buddies watching, while your stripper partner whipped my butt with wet celery?"
She looks into his eyes and says calmly, "No sir, I'm your son's teacher."
The only caveat is that I'm pretty sure I would never be mistaken for a stripper...I don't think I meet the, er, requirements if you know what I mean. Kinda like the fact that no matter how high I can kick (which is still pretty damn high), I'll never be a Rockette.
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