There's No Recovery From That.

Brian Regan is a very funny fellow. Four or so years ago, my oldest, Davis, loaned me a c.d. of some of his material.
I enjoyed the whole thing, but the beginning riff on trying not to look stupid in normal conversation had some stuff about which Homer Simpson would say, "It's funny because it's true". Here. Here's the first part of it (set to the visual background of Kingdom Hearts videogame):



One of the lines in there was, "Did you ever get somebody's gender wrong? There's no recovery from that". Well, I've done it twice. Once at a outdoor shop in San Francisco (in my defense, the lady filled out her plaid shirt exactly the same as the male attendants in there, and her voice was deeper. For what it's worth, she seemed like she'd expected it. I actually said, when she'd rebuffed me with, "It's ma'am": "Well, I guess there's no recovery from that"). The other was last night at Applebee's in Beaufort. This time, it was a baby. I've sired four babies, and I'd've probably taken offense if folks got their genders wrong, but let's be honest about this: babies look pretty much the same. Oh, sure, some are cuter than others, but, as a rule, diapers are covering up pretty much the only indication of their gender. Isn't that why parents dress them up in pink or blue? 'Course, I probably SHOULD have read the "Where's my tiara?" plainly plastered on the front of Pat's pink shirt before telling pop, "Yeah, he's gonna be a stud". Hoo, boy. Well, take luck.