I'm such a klutz...

Do any of you have any issues with a certain word in the English language? A word that you just can't pronounce, perhaps? Some issues can be outgrown (right Trudy? Though I kinda hoped you'd always call them 'peppy ay yalt' shakers, to be honest). Sometimes we haven't really ever heard a word pronounced out loud, so we use it, as we've said it in our minds, then realize it's drastically wrong when faced with the looks on those around you, ie, 'awry', and, 'reverberate'. (I shall protect the innocent on those non-pronouncers). Sometimes, misspoken words cannot be helped - even when we know we say them wrong. I know a few people who have issues saying, "aluminum", for example, and, I'd be doing a disservice if I didn't mention a certain special someone's "cinnamon" impediment.

I have a special kind of stupid impediment when it comes to the word, 'klutz'. I have to consciously say the word over and over in my head, and REALLY think about it before I say it to avoid a social faux-pas. Why? Because I've learned this from experience. And, the word that unintentionally comes out of my lips when I MEAN to say, 'klutz'? 'Slut'. Yep. They sound so much alike, don't they?

And for you, and to help demonstrate, a story:

It was Chris and my first Christmas together. We'd met in October -- so our relationship was flying along it's barely there 'honeymoon stage', and I might have met his folks ONCE prior to Christmas. It was a big deal that year - his mother even moved their Christmas supper up to lunchtime so we could all be there around the table together at such a special occasion. Her boy had a girl to bring to dinner, after all. The table had been nicely set, complete with crystal wine glasses, fancy dinnerware, and a lacy white tablecloth. The wine of choice was red. Keep in mind our relationship is brand-spankin' new, and I don't have the heart to tell his mother that I don't really like red, so I drink it anyway.

The scene that is about to unfold plays in slow-motion in my mind. I don't quite know what happened, and it's been years, so the details are fuzzy. Perhaps I'd attempted to place the pretty crystal wine glass down on a not-so-even area of the lace tablecloth. Perhaps my not-so-delicate mitt was just too big to manoeuver itself around the plate when I went to shovel another mouthful of mashed potatoes in. Perhaps it was a poltergeist. Whatever it was, down went the wine glass...and down went the red wine, spilling all over the fancy white lace tablecloth.

A gasp left my lips, as my hands went to cover my mouth in horror, crying out, "Oh my god, I'm such a SLUT!"

Thankfully Chris' momma has a good sense of humor, and she followed that with a surprised, "Are you now!?"

I don't know yet if I actually explained to her my simple English word impediment, or, if she'd even believe me, but there you have it. My face was as red as the wine, and I quickly gulped back whatever hadn't been spewed out all over her pretty white lace tablecloth as I willed the floor to open up wide and swallow me whole.