Last Thursday, on my first night in California, my mom took Kleine, Dodo, me, Sparks, and Dodi's boyfriend out to dinner. My mom's good friend also joined us. The restaurant did not have a lot of vegetarian options, but they did have a vegetarian platter on the menu. I asked what was in the vegetarian platter, and it was basically just some chickpeas and feta. It sounded good to me. However, when the waitress came to take our order, the following occurred:
Me: I will have the vagetarian pletter... I mean, the vagetar...the vah- no, ehgetarian platter.
Waitress: The vegetarian platter?
Me: Yes, the vag...the, uh...the va...the...yes, I will have that.
Waitress: Okay.
Me: And another beer.
I don't know what kind of weird mental/freudian thing was going on at that particular moment in time, but I literally could not say "vegetarian platter." I think I was reversing the vowels from vegetarian and platter, but I basically just order a vag platter about five times.
Luckily this was California, so the waitress was very sweet and mellow about the whole thing. But it took me all of the strength that I possess not to leave that restaurant and wait for everyone in the car.
xoxo
zuzu
Oh I'm sure she's dealt with far...far worse. No worries about that one.
ReplyDeleteit was just such a bad moment to have a spoonerism! but i am over it. i left the state, so it's totally cool now...
ReplyDelete