Speak my mind? I’d rather not

 Lately, it seems that my verbal communication skills have vanished. Oh, I can write just fine - big, grand sweeping verbose stories and literary limericks with the benefit of an easy-access delete key, but when I find myself talking, that’s another thing altogether.

Words that aren’t even words come tumbling out of my mouth like a stampeding mass of verbal hysteria gang-rushing the exit sign during a fire, pushing and stomping until they make it to freedom, which results in me saying such things as, “Ooh, sloppy joe’s for dinner? That would be graat.”

[silence for about 3 seconds]

Jason: “Did you just say, “GRAAT”?
Me: “What?…no. No, I don’t think so.”

Jason: “Yeah, I think you did. You said graat.”
Me: “No, I di-Hey, I like this song on the radio.”

Jason: “Don’t change the subject. I want to know what the heck “graat” means.”
Me: “Uh, I guess it’s the combination of ‘great’ and ‘grand.’ You know, ‘Dinner at the Palace? That would be GRAAT.’”

Jason: “OK…Why would you even consider using the word ‘grand’ in the first place?”

That was this weekend. This morning driving to work a woman cut me off, and in my fury, I managed to shout at her that she was a “chirk.” I’m not even sure the meaning of that one - maybe “jerk” and “chick”? I don’t know.

All I know is that I need to either think things through before speaking, or I need to get some more sleep.

Mmmm…sleep. That would be GRAAT.