My rabbi always used to caution me during my bat mitzvah lessons, "Whoa, whoa, don't let your tongue get in front of your eye teeth! You won't be able to see what you're saying!" I'll admit, I haven't always listened to that advice. I talk loudly and quickly, which often gets me into tight spots, even when it comes to easy words. I just can't force them out.
Today, I was discussing West Chester's Old-Fashioned Christmas parade with my friend Oj, a history major. As usual, I was complaining about Christmas. That's when the trouble began.
"I'm not going to the Old-Fasssssh... Old-Fssh... Old-Fascist-- Fsssssssh... Fshfshfsh... Old-Fashioned Christmas parade."
Oj stared at me, then broke out laughing.
Chagrined, I muttered, "What the hell is an Old-Fascist Christmas parade anyway?"
"German," Oj chirped. I mimed a quick goose-step, then we carried on with the conversation.
Oh, sure, it's fine when I screw up in front of my friends, but I know I'm going to make myself look like a total idiot in Scotland. I really need to get my entire life scripted.