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You Know What I'm Talking About
You Know What I'm Talking About
04/30/08 at 11:53 AM by G apostrophe Ra
Things I Will Get Rid of The Minute the Whole World Stops Kidding Themselves and Puts Me In Charge (Part 2 of a series)

~ The "You-didn't-hear-me-the-first-time-I-said-something-thus-you-are-a-moron" Phenomenon

Every so often I will be talking to someone, listening contentedly when they have something to say, contributing adequately when the person pauses talking, and just generally enjoying the company of another when quite suddenly- something strange happens. For no immediately discernible reason, the audio department on the switchboard of my primitive human male brain begins to falter. Whatever the other participant in my conversation was saying becomes gibberish (or worse, I hear literally nothing at all) and the flow of the discourse is interrupted. At points like this, my inclination is to let the other person know that the latest bit of speech they uttered has completely failed to compute with me. Generally, I'm just trying to communicate the notion of "Hey, I was with you up until that last line that sounded something like 'I want to give a dinosaur a blumpkin'. Do you think you could repeat that?"

Typically, at this juncture, the other participant (let's call her Ingrid) gives a short noise of impatience and repeats herself. Despite Ingrid's best efforts, I honestly am no closer to understanding what she said, or why giving a dinosaur a blumpkin would be a point of intrigue for her. The look of pure befuddlement on my face gives me away, and she snorts petulantly again, this time repeating herself syllable by syllable, much in the way one would scold a dog that had shat in the kitchen for the fifth time in a row- despite being chastised for the same crime several times prior.

But wait! What's wrong with this picture? Did I really do anything to warrant the supercilious attitude? Somewhere along the line, it became socially acceptable to treat a person who misheard you as if they're an idiot- simply because you were not understood the first time. Fuck, maybe the inarticulate person is the real idiot! By the time Ingrid is done repeating herself in that obnoxious, impatient cadence, I honestly could no longer care less about her or her stupid dinosaur blumpkin fetish.

This shit has to go.
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