Was That My Out Loud Voice?

Nerves do funny things to people. Some giggle, some sweat, some blush. Other nervous Nellies are beleaguered with nail biting, stuttering or are lucky enough to escape with hives. Me? I turn in to the blooper audition from "Last Comic Standing." Honestly, I want to stop (well, most of the time) and I have tried, but with limited success.

I used to think the lack of social interaction affiliated with motherhood caused my mouth to stream perpetual one-liners, but according to friends and family this is not an exclusively post-partum phenomenon. Admittedly even as a small child I had sarcastic comments and other socially marginal observations rattling around in my twisted head. But my recent inability to keep from saying them in my "out loud" voice is starting to take its' toll.

Surprisingly I've never been fired, expelled, divorced or physically removed from a restaurant, movie theatre or other public venue based on my verbal diarrhea. But I am the one who looked at my husband and whispered in a not so quiet voice "I see dead people" when a woman speaking in church sounded hauntingly like Haley Joel Osment in "The Sixth Sense." And, when strangers persistently inquire if my boy/girl twins are identical, I frequently reply "Just until you pull their pants down."

The latest verbal eruption occurred at a bridal shower at my home. I was in fine form that afternoon and had it been the traditional mix of attendees I would have simply been dismissed as the kooky cousin or even better, politely ignored. But the guest list for this little soiree included no less than four women sporting PhD's in psychology and I rose to the occasion by performing at a near manic level. Like most addicts, my recollection of events is hazy at best. But I do vaguely recall saying a neck brace is a hard look to pull off, even in a strapless wedding gown, when the bride discussed a post grad skydiving excursion. Unfortunately that was probably one of the more sedate remarks I spewed during my sorbet and Costco cookie induced tirade.

Based on my errant behavior I'm fairly certain all four shrinks were psychoanalyzing me in the car on their way home. I figure the best case scenario is they've pinned me with low self esteem and an unhealthy need to be the center of attention. Worst case ranges from Tourette's Syndrome to some sort of destructive personality disorder requiring shock therapy and pills whose side effects make shingles look like a spa treatment. On the upside, the food was terrific and I'll probably get a comprehensive diagnosis at the wedding in a few days. That is if I'm still invited.