Goose-ey Goose-ey

Before we bought our own place in Twickenham, we lived for a few years in a little first floor one bedroom apartment in Acton.

We flew home from there to get married and came back to live there again afterward. It was cosy and it was fun.

Even when Trish’s sister Una came to stay for a few months, it was still fun. Una was always a blast and London was at its very best for us around that time.


But it was kind of tight for space, what with Una sleeping in the living room and all. Finding those intimate little moments, the ones that newlyweds crave, was sometimes a bit hard to manage.

So I was delighted when I slipped into the bathroom one Saturday morning and found my wife leaned over the wash basin vigorously brushing her teeth. She was dressed casually in a nice pale blue Ton-Sur-Ton top which I liked (I know I shouldn’t know that, sorry) and black leggings

Being young and foolish I couldn’t resist sidling up behind her, lifting her Ton-Sur-Tom hem a little and gently clasping her legging-clad ass with my hands. One hand for each buttock – rather a neat equation.

Then I did something I had never, ever, done before and it has lived with me ever since. Well, it wasn’t actually something I did, it was more something I said. Perhaps it was that clasped rear-end, so familiar and yet so new, that made me do it.

I whispered in my wife’s ear.

I whispered the immortal words, ‘Goose-ey, Goose-ey’.

(Wait a minute… “So new?” What the hell_?)

Her head raised from the wash basin and our eyes locked together through the steamy wall mirror.

This wasn’t my wife, this was her sister. She must have borrowed Trish’s Ton-Sur-Ton top and now here was I, hands neatly planted on buttocks, whispering sweet but absolute nonsense into her ear.

I fled.

I don’t think I said a word, I just fled. I had only one thought, to find Trish and explain it all to her before Una burst out of the bathroom screaming virtual-incest and incoherent verbal harassment. Trish was watching telly in the living room.

“I_ I_ went in the bathroom and I thought it was you and I_”

Una came in. She looked at Trish.

“He said ‘Goose-ey Goose-ey,” she said and then she collapsed on the couch in a paroxysm of silent hilarity.

I’m telling you this because it’s nearly Christmas time and, wherever my in-laws gather, this story will be told and retold.

If ever I’m being over-serious or pretentious, someone only has to mutter two words and all my attempts at gravitas fly out the window.

“Goose-ey goose-ey.”


36 comments:

fragileheart said...

I'm lost. What on earth does Goose-ey, Goose-ey mean? LOL Regardless of that though, its still a hilarious story!!

haleyhughes said...

And by posting the story here, you're claiming it as your own, revoking it's power over you. Maybe.

Goose-ey, Goosey-ey.

Ken Armstrong said...

Hi Reggie: It doesn't mean anything, that's partly the problem. It came from some deep manly part within which has no language and no sense at all. Bloody typical really.

Hi Haley: Interesting theory. 'Like *that's* gonna work, huh? :)

hope said...

Ah fragile, never been "goosed" before? ;)

Oh man, it's been a rotten day and I needed that laugh! Thanks for sharing.

Ah families, who else can humiliate us so? I have to hear this every year, "How about not spit on Mom, okay?"

When my husband and I were dating, I went to his parents' home for Thanksgiving. My future Mom-in-law set a formal table and there were many guests. Fortunately we were down to 4 at the time of the incident. One old lady said something hilarious as I was taking a sip of water...the same time a sneeze came out of nowhere. Yes, I sprayed water all over the women who gave birth to my boyfriend. I was MORTIFIED but just knew he would come to my aid. Instead, with a straight face he said, "Why'd you go and spit on my Mama?"

And yet they still seat me across the table from Mom...I wonder if they're taking bets? :)

Susan said...

Oh no! ROFL!

Why do families torment each other with these stories? My husband dreads the "toast story", my sister went into a violent rage whenever reminded of "whipperdicker" (worth it anyhow)...they hang over us in Damoclean fashion at every gathering.

But how marvellous it is now, to know just how to fill those conversation gaps, when we meet you someday...LOL

Rachel Fox said...

Excellent story.
x

Reese said...

It could have been much worse =-0

Mike said...

What a grand tale, Ken. My dad has one that, given slightly different circumstances, is essentially the same. Something about a lake, and bathing suits, and he wasn't wearing his glasses at the time.... Oops! Wrong girl. Oh well, at least you get to be harangued about it for the rest of your life... and maybe beyond. A truly sick family might write Goose-ey Goose-ey on your headstone.

Lucky for me (or unlucky), my wife and her sister have different hair colors. I don't know what excuse I'll use to get out of it if this ever happens.

Ken Armstrong said...

Hope: Making you laugh makes my day. Hope tomorrow is a better day - no pun intended for once. :)

Susan: If I meet you someday (and we might) and you say 'G_ G_' to me... well, we may have 'issues'. :)

Thanks Rachel. I like telling stories against myself, I don't really understand why but who the hell cares so long as I raise a smile?

Reese: Now *that* doesn't bear thinking about - I know, I have.

Mike: That hair colour thing is unfortunate for you. I mean, this was embarrassing and all that... but I did get to caress an alternative butt. (The *true* male perspective on this story)

:)

Poetikat and the Hyggecats said...

Brave man,you are to allow us to know such information, sacrosanct. I shall never see a goose or a pair of black leggings and not think of you, Ken.

Great stuff!

Kat

Susan Sonnen said...

Now that is funny stuff! :)

Jennifer said...

Just wanted to note that this made me really laugh.

Jena Isle said...

I burst out laughing Ken, really. no kidding....lol...what a pity...he he he..goose-ey, goose-ey. What does it mean by the way?

Cheers!

Rachel Fox said...

I think you are part George Clooney (charmer?) and part Mr Bean.
x

Dave King said...

Might very well tkae you up on that, Ken, might very well...
Enjoyed the post, though... Did Trish?

Web-Betty said...

Oh dear Lord, what am I going to call my son now? Goose is his nickname!

Ken Armstrong said...

Kat: If you ever see a goose *in* a pair of black leggings, you will definitely think of me. :)

Hi Susan: Thanks, this is all about raising some smiles (100% true though) so I'm pleased to get a few.

Jennifer: My work here is done :)

Jena Isle: I was thinking more about 'Goose-ey'. As Hope rightly says (above) a 'goose' can certainly be a grab of the ass, in my vocabulary at least. So there was probably some primordial reference there. I don't think I was thinking that hard at the time really though. :)

Rachel: 'Very taken with the comment. :) I am light years from the manly sophistication of Hunky George but I often see shades of my silly doings in Mr Bean.

Dave: Golly. What *are* you going to take me up on - I fear it is called me 'G_ G_' when I next try to rise above my natural level. Well, if anyone's gonna do it, I'll be glad it's you. Trish gave approval for the posting of this story and then started laughing all over again. Have I made a mistake here? :)

Hi Web-Betty - 'Goose' is a cool nickname - like in Top Gun. What you do with it now must remain up to you - my record with gooses is poor...

Reese said...

I'm just saying! If it had been my husband......


(not in your bathroom, of course!)

Ken Armstrong said...

Reese: I can't vouch for your husband - well, yes I can actually - he's Great! (us guys have to stick together)

BY THE WAY:

Can you spot the same odd thing in the post-picture as I have spotted? 250EC to the person who tells me what I've seen. :)

Kathy said...

Reese is right. Could have been much worse. Much, much, much worse. How red does your face get when the story rolls out every year?

Laura said...

My sister is sensitive about our ages. I'm older but she looks older. People have assumed she was the older sister many times. She tries not to look like it bothers her but I can see on her face that she really is upset.

Also, all of us (even my brother) hear how much we all look like our Mother, many times.

So, one day I was at home with only my Mother there (that I knew of). I don't know what we were doing making yet more pies likely. I came back into the room and she was facing the sink, away from me. I called her, "Mom". No response. So I called louder and walked closer. I thought it was my Mom right up until my sister turned around.

In my defense they are both the same hair colour and were the same size at the time. I don't get picked out about it. Likely my sister is only too happy to not remember. :)

It is nice having everyone think I'm younger. But, I always say something to save my sister's feelings when it happens. It is much easier being the one thought younger after all.

Laura said...

I noticed that the toothbrushes don't seem to have a reflection. They should be tall enough to show up.

Maybe they are vampire brushes.

Ken Armstrong said...

Hi Kathy: I think I enjoy it actually! I also feel you will have some sympathy with that feeling - we both like to tell our embarrassing tales, don't we? For anyone who hasn't seen it, Kathy's last post but one is a fine example of the genre with some classy comments too. Have a look.

Hi Laura: Your poor sis. It was an honest mistake, I bet you like being told you like like your mother - I have 'turned into' my dad since I turned forty, in a quite uncanny way - I kinda like it though...

Well done you! The toothbrush has no reflection - a vampire toothbrush (fang-brush?) indeed. 250 EC are flapping their way...

Lyndi said...

A hilarious story. This one has got my day off to a flying start. Now if I can stop giggling I can get the household chores done.

Laura said...

Thank you for the EC. I don't get snippy about it but I don't like looking too much like anyone else. My Grandmother said I had Aunt Emma's laugh and I've always liked that. My Aunt Emma never had kids and she died a few years ago.

Keep your Irish eyes smiling!

Ken Armstrong said...

Lyndi: Thanks :) Now stop giggling... do the housework... come on.. st_ st_ oh God!

Laura: Having Aunt Emma's laugh reminds me of a very clever short story by Harlan Ellison wherein the hero is haunted by a deceased relative's laugh because he once went to a live recording of a TV comedy show and get her laugh on the laugh-track where it was used over and over again for other shows.

Point? What point? :)

Jim Murdoch said...

My memory includes - thankfully - no taction contact. I was walking through Motherwell if memory serves me right (although it might have been Hamilton) with my girlfriend of the time and commented that I thought I recognised the very tidy behind ahead of us. Stupid thing to say in the first place but it gets worse. The pert bum was indeed known to be. It was my girlfriend's little sister whom I had developed a crush on and thought I'd kept to myself. Not so. I will leave the consequences to your patently overactive imagination.

Ken Armstrong said...

(sigh) I wish I could edit my comments. Sorry Laura for previous incoherence in my Harlan Ellison note (I got excited, Harlan is a very clever writer of short stories 'Shatterday' anyone?) Anyway, the 'he' should be a 'she' and the 'get' should be a 'got'... I'm a feckin' 'get'.

Jim: Fancied girlfriends sister? This never happened to me. Never-ever. Nhuh huh. Nope. Absolutely not. No no no no no...

NOTE: after reading the post, Trish reckoned I neglected to tell how she was falling around laughing too. True... true.

Never fancied a sister though, oh dearie-me no. :)

Laura-Junkfoodaholic.com said...

OMG that was hilarious! Goose-ey, Goose-ey. I love the fact that it was done to a family member so that the story will live on in infamy! Priceless!

Ken Armstrong said...

Thanks Laura-Junk-Food :) You *know* I have to say this now, it's your fault.

Regarding the In-Laws: "Infamy, Infamy, they've all got it Infamy."

:)

Matthew S. Urdan said...

Ken, I had no idea your sister-n-law was Una from Stardust! How cool is that!

J. C. said...

Well done amigo, I laughed like crazy.
Cheers! (and thanks for the car-parts)

domesticgoddess said...

lmao, I have no idea what that means but I laughed anyway!

fragileheart said...

@Ken: LOL Ah I see, I understand :P

@Hope: No, I haven't! Though I have certainly had my ass grabbed by both hands before. Sans, "Goose-ey, Goose-ey" of course. hehe

Laura said...

That recorded laugh would be kind of creepy if you thought about it too much. Like the natives (I forget where) who thought taking their photo was stealing their soul.

Jim Murdoch said...

When I first got married we lived in a flat in East Kilbride and during the first year my best friend’s girlfriend came to stay with us. She was at uni in Glasgow and that was the excuse; the next year it was my best friend who stayed with us for the same reason. I can’t say I had any problems with either of them being there. We had an extra room in both flats and so we had sufficient privacy.

For the record I have never said, “Goose-ey goose-ey” to anyone. Ever. The closest I have ever come to a situation like the one you describe was with my first wife as we were strolling through Motherwell town centre and I noticed a girl up ahead who I thought I recognised purely from the shape of her shapely behind. Fool me mentioned this. It turned out to be her fifteen-year-old sister. There was no falling about in fits of laughter.