I know so many of you are as fascinated and entranced with literature as I am. And I'm sure all of you spend countless hours lying awake at night contemplating the Formalistic nature of the poetry of William Wordsworth or the complexity of Ophelia in Hamlet or the joys of Shakespeare's iambic pentameter. Oh I just know you do. Well, if you don't, at least the people on National Public Radio do.
The other day, I was listening to NPR and they were discussing the validity of Shakespeare. For a long ole heap o time (literary phrase), scholars have debated whether or not Shakespeare was an author of plays or (gasp!) whether or not he even existed. Well, for my purposes, it's just easier to believe that he was who we all think he was mainly because I honestly don't give a flying Falstaff either way.
There was a gentleman on the broadcast, however, who had some very strong feelings on the subject and he adamently argued Shakespeare's validity. At one point, I got so emotionally invested in his argument that I raised my hand in triumph at least twice. And then he said the following: "Not believing that Shakespeare was a real author is about as ludicrous as not believing in Evolution." When I heard that I sort of just sat there confused like when you stick your hand in scalding hot water and for the first half second you think it's icy cold. But then you instantly realize OW! That's scalding hot water!
Anyway, I didn't really invest much attention to his argument after that because I was too busy coming up with other responses that I felt would have been similarly perplexing to my psyche:
"I don't believe in Shakespeare"
"What?! Not believing in Shakespeare is as ludicrous as not believing sun beams shoot out of my butt!"
"I don't believe in Shakespeare"
"What?! Not believing in Shakepseare is about as preposturous as not believing that Paris Hilton is the epitome of morality and decency!"
"I don't believe in Shakespeare"
"What?! Not believing in Shakespeare is so dumb! About as dumb as not believing in a tooth fairy covered in skittles!"
Anyway...you get the idea...
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Updates A La Katy
Well, I figured it was time I let you all know about what has been going on in my life lately. Seeing as how I don't really like to get toooo personal in my blog (do I? maybe I do?), I'm just going to inform you all of my latest and greatest points of interest and excitement.
1. I am currently collecting all the Happy Meal toys for the Kung Fu Panda movie. Most of you are fully aware that I am heartily invested in any meal in which a definitive emotion is displayed in its description (i.e. Happy Meal, Wacky Pack). But what you might not know is that I convey more expressions of joy and excitement over a free toy/meal combination than I do when, say, gas prices fall from $63.72 a gallon to $58.94. It's just that wonderful to me. So, Brian and I have been steadily acquiring them these past few weeks. We each have three. We are going to get them all and then go see the movie. Yes, we will probably take our free toys with us and set them up proudly at our feet.
2. I now know how to make Chili's salsa. Again, many of you who know me are fully aware that, if I am ever close to death, all I ever really want is for someone to hook me up to an IV that freely flows the deliciousness that is Chilis salsa into my veins, so that my transition into heaven will be all that much more blissful. I love it. Well, Brian Googled it the other day (seriously have no idea why it never occurred to me to do that...) and found the exact recipe. Within minutes, we were on our way to the grosh (my abbreve for grocery store) to gather the ingredients. We got so excited about our endeavor that we doubled the recipe. Now, Brian's fridge is full of about 38 little bowls of straight up Jesus. I'm frankly jealous that he gets to sleep mere feet away from all that salsa-y goodness. It's amazing, friends.
3. I quit my job. I have been working for my wonderful father since, oh, about the Mesozoic Era and have realized it's just time for me to move on. So, I'm finishing up grad school this next year and then it's on to bigger and better things! No more desk job! My last day is August 1. Whenever I think about it, I swear I hear a sweet heavenly choir of angels. And I just want to hug those angels, just wanna hug em up and feed em some happy meals.
4. I'm reading two great books. Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen and Having a Mary Heart In a Martha World by, oh I can't remember her name...how very Martha of me. Anyway, both books are sooooo good. Water for Elephants is a fiction book centered around the theme of a 1950s circus type situation. And the other one is centered around the theme of our Lord of Lord and Heavenly Host. Praise Father Son and Holy Ghost.
5. I recently whacked myself in the chin with a lawn mower. Well, not the actual mower. I mean, it would be a pretty bold accomplishment if I could just hoist a mower in the air and then proceed to accidentally whack myself in the chin with it. It was the thing you pull on to start the mower. Or the "starter pully thing" as I like to call it. Well, I was trying to show off how wonderfully talented I am at starting large pieces of lawn machinery when, just out of nowhere, I felt a humbling jolt of pain as I got a little too close to my facial area during the up-pull. So, now I have a bruise there, but that's ok. Oh, and please don't come up to me and try to touch it. Whenever anyone approaches an owie on my person, I have some sort of ninja reflex action that will sever at least two limbs in one move. So, don't. touch. my. chin. bruise. I am not responsible for bodily harm done unto ye.
6. I am horribly sunburned. I blame the clouds which gave the impression that the sun wasn't working. And, I blame my very pale ancestors. Clearly, the fact that I applied no sunscreen whatsoever is soooo not my fault.
That's basically all for now...I think...Hope you all are having a wonderful summer!!!
1. I am currently collecting all the Happy Meal toys for the Kung Fu Panda movie. Most of you are fully aware that I am heartily invested in any meal in which a definitive emotion is displayed in its description (i.e. Happy Meal, Wacky Pack). But what you might not know is that I convey more expressions of joy and excitement over a free toy/meal combination than I do when, say, gas prices fall from $63.72 a gallon to $58.94. It's just that wonderful to me. So, Brian and I have been steadily acquiring them these past few weeks. We each have three. We are going to get them all and then go see the movie. Yes, we will probably take our free toys with us and set them up proudly at our feet.
2. I now know how to make Chili's salsa. Again, many of you who know me are fully aware that, if I am ever close to death, all I ever really want is for someone to hook me up to an IV that freely flows the deliciousness that is Chilis salsa into my veins, so that my transition into heaven will be all that much more blissful. I love it. Well, Brian Googled it the other day (seriously have no idea why it never occurred to me to do that...) and found the exact recipe. Within minutes, we were on our way to the grosh (my abbreve for grocery store) to gather the ingredients. We got so excited about our endeavor that we doubled the recipe. Now, Brian's fridge is full of about 38 little bowls of straight up Jesus. I'm frankly jealous that he gets to sleep mere feet away from all that salsa-y goodness. It's amazing, friends.
3. I quit my job. I have been working for my wonderful father since, oh, about the Mesozoic Era and have realized it's just time for me to move on. So, I'm finishing up grad school this next year and then it's on to bigger and better things! No more desk job! My last day is August 1. Whenever I think about it, I swear I hear a sweet heavenly choir of angels. And I just want to hug those angels, just wanna hug em up and feed em some happy meals.
4. I'm reading two great books. Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen and Having a Mary Heart In a Martha World by, oh I can't remember her name...how very Martha of me. Anyway, both books are sooooo good. Water for Elephants is a fiction book centered around the theme of a 1950s circus type situation. And the other one is centered around the theme of our Lord of Lord and Heavenly Host. Praise Father Son and Holy Ghost.
5. I recently whacked myself in the chin with a lawn mower. Well, not the actual mower. I mean, it would be a pretty bold accomplishment if I could just hoist a mower in the air and then proceed to accidentally whack myself in the chin with it. It was the thing you pull on to start the mower. Or the "starter pully thing" as I like to call it. Well, I was trying to show off how wonderfully talented I am at starting large pieces of lawn machinery when, just out of nowhere, I felt a humbling jolt of pain as I got a little too close to my facial area during the up-pull. So, now I have a bruise there, but that's ok. Oh, and please don't come up to me and try to touch it. Whenever anyone approaches an owie on my person, I have some sort of ninja reflex action that will sever at least two limbs in one move. So, don't. touch. my. chin. bruise. I am not responsible for bodily harm done unto ye.
6. I am horribly sunburned. I blame the clouds which gave the impression that the sun wasn't working. And, I blame my very pale ancestors. Clearly, the fact that I applied no sunscreen whatsoever is soooo not my fault.
That's basically all for now...I think...Hope you all are having a wonderful summer!!!
Monday, April 28, 2008
I am NOT a Member of the KKK
So, if you have been a faithful reader of my blog, you will know that my headline used to read "K-k-k-Katy." Well, it has been brought to my attention that this may have some sort of connotation towards racial hatred...an attitude I most certainly do not possess. And, of course, leave it to me - a kind, gentle, good-hearted person who has much love for the african american community - to create some sort of ambiguity in this area. Well done, self.
So, I thought I would set the record straight and tell you all why I chose the headline that is no longer my headline (because I'm a people pleaser, gang).
When I was a wee lass, my grandpa used to sing with me all the time. I would stand behind him and comb his hair and we would accompany each other in choral merriment. Most of the songs he sang I had never heard before. Since I was a kid with lots of freckles, one of my favorites he sang went something like "She's got freckles on her but(t) she's pretty." Made me laugh every time.
But my absolute favoritest of favoritestesness was the song K-k-k-katy. It was from a very old World War II song booklet that he had lying around. I can't for the life of me think of why I loved that song so much. Oh wait. That's right. It was a song about MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! Sigh. I love myself.
So, here's the song. Proof that I'm just a supporter of vintage music as opposed to a follower of hate-filled racist organizations.
K-K-K-KATY
Jimmy was a soldier brave and bold,
Katy was a maid with hair of gold,
Like an act of fate,
Kate was standing at the gate,
Watching all the boys on dress parade.
Jimmy with the girls was just a gawk,
Stuttered ev'ry time he tried to talk,
Still that night at eight,
He was there at Katy's gate,
Stuttering to her this love sick cry.
K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy,
You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore;
When the m-m-m-moon shines,
Over the cowshed,
I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door.
K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy,
You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore;
When the m-m-m-moon shines,
Over the cowshed,
I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door.
No one ever looked so nice and neat,
No one could be just as cute and sweet,
That's what Jimmy thought,
When the wedding ring he bought,
Now he's off to France the foe to meet.
Jimmy thought he'd like to take a chance,
See if he could make the Kaiser dance,
Stepping to a tune,
All about the silv'ry moon,
This is what they hear in far off France.
K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy,
You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore;
When the m-m-m-moon shines,
Over the cowshed,
I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door.
K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy,
You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore;
When the m-m-m-moon shines,
Over the cowshed,
I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door.
So, I thought I would set the record straight and tell you all why I chose the headline that is no longer my headline (because I'm a people pleaser, gang).
When I was a wee lass, my grandpa used to sing with me all the time. I would stand behind him and comb his hair and we would accompany each other in choral merriment. Most of the songs he sang I had never heard before. Since I was a kid with lots of freckles, one of my favorites he sang went something like "She's got freckles on her but(t) she's pretty." Made me laugh every time.
But my absolute favoritest of favoritestesness was the song K-k-k-katy. It was from a very old World War II song booklet that he had lying around. I can't for the life of me think of why I loved that song so much. Oh wait. That's right. It was a song about MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! Sigh. I love myself.
So, here's the song. Proof that I'm just a supporter of vintage music as opposed to a follower of hate-filled racist organizations.
K-K-K-KATY
Jimmy was a soldier brave and bold,
Katy was a maid with hair of gold,
Like an act of fate,
Kate was standing at the gate,
Watching all the boys on dress parade.
Jimmy with the girls was just a gawk,
Stuttered ev'ry time he tried to talk,
Still that night at eight,
He was there at Katy's gate,
Stuttering to her this love sick cry.
K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy,
You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore;
When the m-m-m-moon shines,
Over the cowshed,
I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door.
K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy,
You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore;
When the m-m-m-moon shines,
Over the cowshed,
I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door.
No one ever looked so nice and neat,
No one could be just as cute and sweet,
That's what Jimmy thought,
When the wedding ring he bought,
Now he's off to France the foe to meet.
Jimmy thought he'd like to take a chance,
See if he could make the Kaiser dance,
Stepping to a tune,
All about the silv'ry moon,
This is what they hear in far off France.
K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy,
You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore;
When the m-m-m-moon shines,
Over the cowshed,
I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door.
K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy,
You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore;
When the m-m-m-moon shines,
Over the cowshed,
I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Well, Thank Goodness
Friends! Countrymen! Lend me your ears!
Know how the turnpike is like uber ridiculous? Remember how it was supposed to only be set up to receive a toll for like 2 years and then it would be paid off and people - the normal, working-class, proletariat- would be able to drive on it for free? And I'm sure you're aware that it's been about 80 years now and it still costs a WHOLE DOLLAR to go roughly 100 yards from Broadway Extension to Western?
I think the reason we all have been so frustrated with the pricey toll fare is because we haven't seen any sort of product from this monetary compensation. For example, if we are giving them all this money, shouldn't there be performers on the side of the road with cupcakes and free car washes? Shouldn't every other mile of road be paved with candy canes? Shouldn't renowned motivational speakers be flagging us down to hop in our cars and give us the meaning of life?
Well, fret no more. I've found where all our money is going. And I think you will be pleased. If you are ever traveling Westbound (and Eastbound, actually, as I've come to observe) on the turnpike from Broadway Extension to, say, N. Penn, look to the right just after you go through the toll. But look quickly. There's about a four foot by four foot garden that has been planted in the space where travelers merge as if we are being handed a lollipop after a sharp blow to the back of the head. WHACK! Oh! A flower!
These 9 billion dollar gardens are, of course, maintained and groomed by the little turnpike oompa loompas, so don't forget that some of our money is going to them. For example, about a week after I noticed the garden on the North side of the highway, I was driving by and happened to notice a crew of about 48 men in orange vests planting an identical four foot by four foot garden on the South side of the highway. Bless their hearts, I'm sure it was a very long and arduous process. I can easily understand why it is costing us so much to keep them out there making our travel experience pleasurable.
I hope knowing all of this is a relief to those of you who travel the turnpike, the blessed stretch of road that is forever marked with exclusivity due to the shiny oasis of deciduous life growing from it's expensive loins.
Know how the turnpike is like uber ridiculous? Remember how it was supposed to only be set up to receive a toll for like 2 years and then it would be paid off and people - the normal, working-class, proletariat- would be able to drive on it for free? And I'm sure you're aware that it's been about 80 years now and it still costs a WHOLE DOLLAR to go roughly 100 yards from Broadway Extension to Western?
I think the reason we all have been so frustrated with the pricey toll fare is because we haven't seen any sort of product from this monetary compensation. For example, if we are giving them all this money, shouldn't there be performers on the side of the road with cupcakes and free car washes? Shouldn't every other mile of road be paved with candy canes? Shouldn't renowned motivational speakers be flagging us down to hop in our cars and give us the meaning of life?
Well, fret no more. I've found where all our money is going. And I think you will be pleased. If you are ever traveling Westbound (and Eastbound, actually, as I've come to observe) on the turnpike from Broadway Extension to, say, N. Penn, look to the right just after you go through the toll. But look quickly. There's about a four foot by four foot garden that has been planted in the space where travelers merge as if we are being handed a lollipop after a sharp blow to the back of the head. WHACK! Oh! A flower!
These 9 billion dollar gardens are, of course, maintained and groomed by the little turnpike oompa loompas, so don't forget that some of our money is going to them. For example, about a week after I noticed the garden on the North side of the highway, I was driving by and happened to notice a crew of about 48 men in orange vests planting an identical four foot by four foot garden on the South side of the highway. Bless their hearts, I'm sure it was a very long and arduous process. I can easily understand why it is costing us so much to keep them out there making our travel experience pleasurable.
I hope knowing all of this is a relief to those of you who travel the turnpike, the blessed stretch of road that is forever marked with exclusivity due to the shiny oasis of deciduous life growing from it's expensive loins.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
I Make A Bomb Mix Tape...I'm Not Gonna Lie
Ahhhhhh mix tapes. Is it 'mix tapes' or 'mixed tapes'??? For all intents and purposes, I'm going with just 'mix.' Suck it.
Okay....music is undeniably one of my most favorite things in the whole galaxy. You know how when you are in a desert and haven't had water for 5 days (not 6, after 6 you would die) and you're like 'crap, i need some water!' and then all of a sudden a cactus appears and you suddenly remember all those movies you saw long ago where they tell you that 'hey! you can drink a cactus!' and then you do, you drink the cactus and it's the best thing you've ever tasted because it means you're actually gonna live and then you start thinking the desert isn't such a bad place after all because. of. the. cactus. Welllll....music is my cactus.
And when I get filled up by music, one of my other favorite things is to share it with people. So, over the years (since 1991 to be exact) I've been making mixes for me and my friends. I remember sitting in my room listening to the radio as a kid and calling in requests and having my hand on the 'record' button of my boom box and starting and stopping the tape just in time so that the dumb deejay wouldn't be on the mix. Man, those were fun days.
Thankfully, those days aren't over for me, thanks to iTunes and my incessant need to express myself musically since I was clearly passed up on the day God was giving out musical talent. It's okay, really. I love to just sit and find songs and create what I like to call "atmosphere cds" (okay, I just made that up...I'm not that lame). But, really, my musical mixes are very mood dependant. When I was young, I would base my mix on whoever I was mixing for and that hasn't changed. But the songs are still about me. They are the songs that are valuable to me and they say things that words can't say. And when you give that kind of crap away to a person, you'd better make sure they understand the value of that. Not everyone deserves a mix tape.
Okay....music is undeniably one of my most favorite things in the whole galaxy. You know how when you are in a desert and haven't had water for 5 days (not 6, after 6 you would die) and you're like 'crap, i need some water!' and then all of a sudden a cactus appears and you suddenly remember all those movies you saw long ago where they tell you that 'hey! you can drink a cactus!' and then you do, you drink the cactus and it's the best thing you've ever tasted because it means you're actually gonna live and then you start thinking the desert isn't such a bad place after all because. of. the. cactus. Welllll....music is my cactus.
And when I get filled up by music, one of my other favorite things is to share it with people. So, over the years (since 1991 to be exact) I've been making mixes for me and my friends. I remember sitting in my room listening to the radio as a kid and calling in requests and having my hand on the 'record' button of my boom box and starting and stopping the tape just in time so that the dumb deejay wouldn't be on the mix. Man, those were fun days.
Thankfully, those days aren't over for me, thanks to iTunes and my incessant need to express myself musically since I was clearly passed up on the day God was giving out musical talent. It's okay, really. I love to just sit and find songs and create what I like to call "atmosphere cds" (okay, I just made that up...I'm not that lame). But, really, my musical mixes are very mood dependant. When I was young, I would base my mix on whoever I was mixing for and that hasn't changed. But the songs are still about me. They are the songs that are valuable to me and they say things that words can't say. And when you give that kind of crap away to a person, you'd better make sure they understand the value of that. Not everyone deserves a mix tape.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
A Letter To My Bathtub
Dear Garden-style Oasis of Love,
I'm in love with you. And please don't tell me it's too soon for me to feel this way. It's been nine months and I'm hypnotized by your ways. Actually, bathtub, I hesitated about whether or not I should tell you this, but you are what gets me out of bed in the morning. Knowing you are waiting for me with your fiberglass arms of bliss, aahhhh....I get weak in the knees just thinking about it.
This letter is a big step for me, bathtub. You have to know...not many people approve of our relationship. They can't seem to understand why I enjoy your company so much, why I'm willing to forgo showers for the rest of my life just to remain in your tender embrace. Filling you up fills me up. Plain and simple.
And, bathtub, thank your for being selfless with your personal space. I love that you willingly hold my crosswords and books and homework and 45 half empty shower gel bottles. That's so sacrificial of you. You have no idea. But it makes me realize I need to put more effort in our relationship so you don't feel drained, so to speak.
I promise you, bathtub, there are so many exciting times ahead for us. I think about you all day and can't wait to be in your arms again.
Loofa,
Katy
I'm in love with you. And please don't tell me it's too soon for me to feel this way. It's been nine months and I'm hypnotized by your ways. Actually, bathtub, I hesitated about whether or not I should tell you this, but you are what gets me out of bed in the morning. Knowing you are waiting for me with your fiberglass arms of bliss, aahhhh....I get weak in the knees just thinking about it.
This letter is a big step for me, bathtub. You have to know...not many people approve of our relationship. They can't seem to understand why I enjoy your company so much, why I'm willing to forgo showers for the rest of my life just to remain in your tender embrace. Filling you up fills me up. Plain and simple.
And, bathtub, thank your for being selfless with your personal space. I love that you willingly hold my crosswords and books and homework and 45 half empty shower gel bottles. That's so sacrificial of you. You have no idea. But it makes me realize I need to put more effort in our relationship so you don't feel drained, so to speak.
I promise you, bathtub, there are so many exciting times ahead for us. I think about you all day and can't wait to be in your arms again.
Loofa,
Katy
Friday, February 8, 2008
Why I Outta....
Yesterday after work, I had one mission in mind: jeans shopping. I left work at about 4:30 and headed to my favorite place to shop for jeans, The Buckle. Please remind me next time I go there that the sales associates are nice not because God gave them the genetic blessing of compassion...no, they are nice because if they sell you pricey jeans, they get a sweet little commission. Jerks. Here's what happened.
Katy enters The Buckle and is greeted by an associate. Katy wanders to the sale rack and hears a soothing, low voice at the back of the store.
George: Is there something I can help you find?
Katy: No thanks, I'm just (katy turns and sees the handsome man attached to the voice)...actually, maybe you can help me with some jeans.
George: I'd be happy to. Do you know what kind you want?
Katy: Well, I have a card from the last time I was in here. It has the type of jeans I buy on it.
George: Look at you. I'm so impressed!
(Katy giggles)
George: Okay, I'll grab a few for you and put them in a dressing room while you look around.
Katy: Sounds awesome. Thanks.
(A few minutes later...)
George: So, you're havin a good day aren't you?
Katy: Why, do I look like I'm having a good day?
George: I can tell these things.
(Katy Giggles)
Katy: Yeah, it's a good day.
George: So, what do you do?
Katy: Work and go to school.
George: Awesome. Hey, I love your bag.
Katy: Thanks! I got it at Old Navy about 2 years ago. My sister is always trying to get me to carry expensive bags, but I always go back to what's comfortable.
George: I hear ya. Me too.
(The conversation continues light heartedly until Katy informs George that she is ready to try on her clothes. George escorts her to the dressing room.)
George: I'm looking forward to seeing those jeans on you.
(Katy giggles)
George (while Katy is trying on clothes): So...uh, you got any plans for Valentine's Day?
Katy's inner monologue: omigosh! He's totally gonna ask for my number. He thinks I'm cute. omigosh! What is it with me lately? Guys are all over me! I'm awesome!
Katy: nah, not this year.
George: Hmmmm....well that's no good. We'll have to do something about that.
(Katy giggles)
Katy: Will we?
After trying on three pairs of jeans and three shirts, Katy makes her selections and hands them to George.
George: I'll see you at the register.
Katy: Okay
(At the register)
George: I went ahead and punched a few extra amounts on your card, so you can get the discount.
Katy: Wow! Thanks.
George: I'll just need your address.
Katy tells him her address.
George: Are those the apartments by Target?
Katy: Yeah.
George: With the big bathtubs?
Katy: Oh yeah.
George: I live in one of the sister complexes. That's so crazy!
Katy starts imagining their wedding.
George: I just need your driver's license
Katy hands George her driver's license
George: NO WAY!!!! We have the exact same birthday! Same month! Same year! Same day!
Katy starts naming their future children in her mind.
George: Now I have such an awesome story to tell my wife tonight!!!
Aaaaaaaand scene....
Katy enters The Buckle and is greeted by an associate. Katy wanders to the sale rack and hears a soothing, low voice at the back of the store.
George: Is there something I can help you find?
Katy: No thanks, I'm just (katy turns and sees the handsome man attached to the voice)...actually, maybe you can help me with some jeans.
George: I'd be happy to. Do you know what kind you want?
Katy: Well, I have a card from the last time I was in here. It has the type of jeans I buy on it.
George: Look at you. I'm so impressed!
(Katy giggles)
George: Okay, I'll grab a few for you and put them in a dressing room while you look around.
Katy: Sounds awesome. Thanks.
(A few minutes later...)
George: So, you're havin a good day aren't you?
Katy: Why, do I look like I'm having a good day?
George: I can tell these things.
(Katy Giggles)
Katy: Yeah, it's a good day.
George: So, what do you do?
Katy: Work and go to school.
George: Awesome. Hey, I love your bag.
Katy: Thanks! I got it at Old Navy about 2 years ago. My sister is always trying to get me to carry expensive bags, but I always go back to what's comfortable.
George: I hear ya. Me too.
(The conversation continues light heartedly until Katy informs George that she is ready to try on her clothes. George escorts her to the dressing room.)
George: I'm looking forward to seeing those jeans on you.
(Katy giggles)
George (while Katy is trying on clothes): So...uh, you got any plans for Valentine's Day?
Katy's inner monologue: omigosh! He's totally gonna ask for my number. He thinks I'm cute. omigosh! What is it with me lately? Guys are all over me! I'm awesome!
Katy: nah, not this year.
George: Hmmmm....well that's no good. We'll have to do something about that.
(Katy giggles)
Katy: Will we?
After trying on three pairs of jeans and three shirts, Katy makes her selections and hands them to George.
George: I'll see you at the register.
Katy: Okay
(At the register)
George: I went ahead and punched a few extra amounts on your card, so you can get the discount.
Katy: Wow! Thanks.
George: I'll just need your address.
Katy tells him her address.
George: Are those the apartments by Target?
Katy: Yeah.
George: With the big bathtubs?
Katy: Oh yeah.
George: I live in one of the sister complexes. That's so crazy!
Katy starts imagining their wedding.
George: I just need your driver's license
Katy hands George her driver's license
George: NO WAY!!!! We have the exact same birthday! Same month! Same year! Same day!
Katy starts naming their future children in her mind.
George: Now I have such an awesome story to tell my wife tonight!!!
Aaaaaaaand scene....
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Two Scoops of Lovin
It's impossible for me to be mad at anyone eating an ice cream cone. Am I alone in this? The other day, I was in traffic and some rude ho decided to cut me off. Well, I pulled around her and got ready to give her my mean, dirty, road rage face when I noticed she was enjoying a delightful soft serve. I immediately withdrew my ammo. What could I say or do to this woman that would pull her out of her child-like reverie? Nothing. And, frankly, at that point it didn't matter. I was already holding hands with her and skipping to the see-saw in my mind.
Maybe that's the answer. Maybe, in the future, when I decide to rob banks n stuff, I will always be sure to carry a double scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough (because, hello, that's the best). And when I'm waving my gun around in terror while simultaneously enjoying a famous American tradition, people will be more inclined to give me their money. And if they don't give me their money it will be all good in the hood because did I mention I will be eating ice cream?
And maybe the people working at Wal-Mart should eat ice cream cones all the time. Because I promise you I would be less inclined to yell at them if I knew their incompetence was being negated by the euphoria that could only be induced by a cold, delicious, creamy treat.
So, kids. If you are ever in a situation where you want to embark on a murderous rampage, due to anger or frustration toward an individual or an establishment, I highly recommend you picture said individual or establishment holding a swirly frozen yogurt cone from Braum's in their hand. I promise it will harvest peace in your chi.
Maybe that's the answer. Maybe, in the future, when I decide to rob banks n stuff, I will always be sure to carry a double scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough (because, hello, that's the best). And when I'm waving my gun around in terror while simultaneously enjoying a famous American tradition, people will be more inclined to give me their money. And if they don't give me their money it will be all good in the hood because did I mention I will be eating ice cream?
And maybe the people working at Wal-Mart should eat ice cream cones all the time. Because I promise you I would be less inclined to yell at them if I knew their incompetence was being negated by the euphoria that could only be induced by a cold, delicious, creamy treat.
So, kids. If you are ever in a situation where you want to embark on a murderous rampage, due to anger or frustration toward an individual or an establishment, I highly recommend you picture said individual or establishment holding a swirly frozen yogurt cone from Braum's in their hand. I promise it will harvest peace in your chi.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Life Lessons I Have Learned In My Life As Lessons For Life (Lessons)
1. It's never a good idea to rub your eye after handling jalapenos. It stings real bad.
2. Always proofread letters you send out from work. If not, you could end up asking a client to 'sing' a Petition for Administration instead of 'sign' it. Also, it is very easy to misspell the word 'and.' Nobody likes getting letters about 'nads,' gang.
That's really all I've learned in life, so far. I find it to be helpful, though. Hope you do too.
2. Always proofread letters you send out from work. If not, you could end up asking a client to 'sing' a Petition for Administration instead of 'sign' it. Also, it is very easy to misspell the word 'and.' Nobody likes getting letters about 'nads,' gang.
That's really all I've learned in life, so far. I find it to be helpful, though. Hope you do too.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Hot Panera
Welp. I basically love Panera Bread Company. Three days a week, I meet my friend, Lindy, there for breakfast. We've established a nice little routine and it's quite enjoyable to go somewhere as a "regular." Occasionally, when walk in the front doors, the entire establishment claps and rises to their feet while confetti falls from the ceiling. We've had to tell them not to do the confetti every time, though, because it's kind of a bother trying to pick shiny round dots out of our hair. We would settle for cash instead, though.
One of my favorite things about my thrice weekly breakfasts with Lindy is the teamwork exhibited by the workers. Sometimes, when we are in the middle of a conversation, we will be interrupted with a hearty yell from the kitchen. If you've been to Panera before, you probably know that they like to announce the fresh items that come out of the oven. In the mornings, those items are usually bagels or souffles. So, roughly twice during our breakfast, Lindy and I are delighted when we hear them yell 'HOT BAGELS!' or 'HOT SOUFFLES!' Mind you, we are not the least bit interested in purchasing these temperature appropriate items, we are just pleased that they take the time to tell us about them.
And it's not just that they yell 'hot bagels' or 'hot souffles,' it's the way in which they say it. The person who retrieves the items announces their arrival and then the rest of the workers repeat the exciting news. But, there's one worker there that always repeats what he's just heard as if he can hardly believe the good news. So, instead of just a hearty shout, it's more like an ecstatic question. 'HOT BAGELS???? YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!!! WHO'S EVER HEARD OF SUCH AN AMAZING THING!? HOT BAGELS???' And that is the best part of our morning. We wait to hear how this worker responds to shouts coming from the kitchen because we know it will be awesome. And, just so you know, Lindy is now in a position where she feels totally comfortable with shouting out the good news to the restaurant too. And that's the best part of my morning.
One of my favorite things about my thrice weekly breakfasts with Lindy is the teamwork exhibited by the workers. Sometimes, when we are in the middle of a conversation, we will be interrupted with a hearty yell from the kitchen. If you've been to Panera before, you probably know that they like to announce the fresh items that come out of the oven. In the mornings, those items are usually bagels or souffles. So, roughly twice during our breakfast, Lindy and I are delighted when we hear them yell 'HOT BAGELS!' or 'HOT SOUFFLES!' Mind you, we are not the least bit interested in purchasing these temperature appropriate items, we are just pleased that they take the time to tell us about them.
And it's not just that they yell 'hot bagels' or 'hot souffles,' it's the way in which they say it. The person who retrieves the items announces their arrival and then the rest of the workers repeat the exciting news. But, there's one worker there that always repeats what he's just heard as if he can hardly believe the good news. So, instead of just a hearty shout, it's more like an ecstatic question. 'HOT BAGELS???? YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!!! WHO'S EVER HEARD OF SUCH AN AMAZING THING!? HOT BAGELS???' And that is the best part of our morning. We wait to hear how this worker responds to shouts coming from the kitchen because we know it will be awesome. And, just so you know, Lindy is now in a position where she feels totally comfortable with shouting out the good news to the restaurant too. And that's the best part of my morning.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Why I'm Cooler Than All Y'all Fools
I own vinyl. More importantly, I own a record player. In all truthfulness, my post could end right here and now. It could end with the confidence that the point I'm introducing in the title will have been adequately made. But, I'm gonna talk about it a lil more because, well, that's just what I do.
Since I was a little girl, I've been in love with my grandmother's record player. Whenever we went to her house, I would take the time to clear off the picture frames and china dolls from her record player holder contraption thing (I have no idea what it's called, but it is big and an unnaturally stained color of wood). After completing the dusty task, I would slide open the door on the top and all my mother's old records would be inside. Oh they were magnificent. The Surpremes, Jackson 5, The Sound of Music, Dean Martin...such lovely classics. I would play them and lay on my grandma's living room floor absorbing the sounds and feeling some sort of spiritual connection to the songs and the times they represented in my mother's life.
So, three Christmases ago, my grandmother bought me my very own record player. It was the greatest gift ever! About three weeks later, I found myself knee deep in a record give-away at the OU campus. I had heard about it in one of my classes and, sure enough, that afternoon there were tables and tables and tables full of records that they were just GIVING away. I got some Fleetwood Mac, Heart, James Taylor, Elton John. For. Free. I might start weeping soon.
It's safe to say, my collection of vinyl is pretty extensive. But, that didn't keep me from the wonderful record store off of Western Avenue and 36th Street last Saturday. Oh no siree it did not. I purchased Madonna's Immaculate Collection, Elliot Smith, and Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits Volume II. Please try to contain your excitement. Do you need to lie down? Please don't worry too much, though. My coolness will probably be exploding into lemon jolly rancher flavored rain drops pretty soon. It's just that intense. And, I'm worried about mentioning this next little fact because my computer might just implode upon itself due to the sheer, overwhelming COOLNESS of it all. But what the heck. Here goes....I have a subscription to Rolling Stone Magazine...
Since I was a little girl, I've been in love with my grandmother's record player. Whenever we went to her house, I would take the time to clear off the picture frames and china dolls from her record player holder contraption thing (I have no idea what it's called, but it is big and an unnaturally stained color of wood). After completing the dusty task, I would slide open the door on the top and all my mother's old records would be inside. Oh they were magnificent. The Surpremes, Jackson 5, The Sound of Music, Dean Martin...such lovely classics. I would play them and lay on my grandma's living room floor absorbing the sounds and feeling some sort of spiritual connection to the songs and the times they represented in my mother's life.
So, three Christmases ago, my grandmother bought me my very own record player. It was the greatest gift ever! About three weeks later, I found myself knee deep in a record give-away at the OU campus. I had heard about it in one of my classes and, sure enough, that afternoon there were tables and tables and tables full of records that they were just GIVING away. I got some Fleetwood Mac, Heart, James Taylor, Elton John. For. Free. I might start weeping soon.
It's safe to say, my collection of vinyl is pretty extensive. But, that didn't keep me from the wonderful record store off of Western Avenue and 36th Street last Saturday. Oh no siree it did not. I purchased Madonna's Immaculate Collection, Elliot Smith, and Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits Volume II. Please try to contain your excitement. Do you need to lie down? Please don't worry too much, though. My coolness will probably be exploding into lemon jolly rancher flavored rain drops pretty soon. It's just that intense. And, I'm worried about mentioning this next little fact because my computer might just implode upon itself due to the sheer, overwhelming COOLNESS of it all. But what the heck. Here goes....I have a subscription to Rolling Stone Magazine...
Thursday, January 24, 2008
The Questionnable Nature of My Flip Calendar
At the beginning of every year, I look forward to purchasing new calendars. My two favorite types of calendars are wall calendars and flip calendars. This year I went with a French theme and, so far, I've been delighted with the results...of my wall calendar.
For my flip calendar this year, I get a brand new french phrase every day. Around the beginning of January, the phrases were cute and applicable, like Happy New Year! or Au Boulot! (Get back to work!). But for the past couple of weeks, I've been somewhat confused by the phrases I'm greeted with every morning.
As I'm assuming most people who buy this calendar are looking for common phrases that we can use in conversation in order to practice the French language, I'm surprised to learn that this is not the case for the "Living Language Flip Calendar of 2008."
Let me give you an example. The French phrase for January 25, 2008 is "La peur ne se commande pas" which means "You can't control fear." Okaaaaaaay...What ever happened to "I really like your sweater today!" or "How are the kids?" I personally can't remember the last time I've ever walked up to someone with a strong desire to darkly tell them fear cannot be controlled. And, frankly, it kind of makes January 25th a day I'm not all that much looking foward to, to tell you the truth.
And how about February 5th? I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to work in "Elle ne peut plus ecrire" into a jovial lighthearted conversation, seeing as how it means "She can't write anymore." Are the makers of this flip calendar operating a small torture chamber somewhere? What does one have to do to a person to make them not be able to write anymore? And why, oh why, would we ever want to talk about it in French???
For all our sakes, I hope the makers of this calendar don't get upset this year because who knows what next year's calendar will look like if they do. And I'm pretty sure all our suspicions will be confirmed on September 3 as the phrase of the day on that day is "Je pars pour la Suisse apres-demain" (I'm leaving for Switzerland the day after tomorrow). On this day, rest assured I will be using this in a conversation with my mob boss.
For my flip calendar this year, I get a brand new french phrase every day. Around the beginning of January, the phrases were cute and applicable, like Happy New Year! or Au Boulot! (Get back to work!). But for the past couple of weeks, I've been somewhat confused by the phrases I'm greeted with every morning.
As I'm assuming most people who buy this calendar are looking for common phrases that we can use in conversation in order to practice the French language, I'm surprised to learn that this is not the case for the "Living Language Flip Calendar of 2008."
Let me give you an example. The French phrase for January 25, 2008 is "La peur ne se commande pas" which means "You can't control fear." Okaaaaaaay...What ever happened to "I really like your sweater today!" or "How are the kids?" I personally can't remember the last time I've ever walked up to someone with a strong desire to darkly tell them fear cannot be controlled. And, frankly, it kind of makes January 25th a day I'm not all that much looking foward to, to tell you the truth.
And how about February 5th? I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to work in "Elle ne peut plus ecrire" into a jovial lighthearted conversation, seeing as how it means "She can't write anymore." Are the makers of this flip calendar operating a small torture chamber somewhere? What does one have to do to a person to make them not be able to write anymore? And why, oh why, would we ever want to talk about it in French???
For all our sakes, I hope the makers of this calendar don't get upset this year because who knows what next year's calendar will look like if they do. And I'm pretty sure all our suspicions will be confirmed on September 3 as the phrase of the day on that day is "Je pars pour la Suisse apres-demain" (I'm leaving for Switzerland the day after tomorrow). On this day, rest assured I will be using this in a conversation with my mob boss.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Tea From a China Pot
Today I had the pleasure of spending an hour in the presence of one of the oldest men in the world. He will be 100 years old this year. My dad and I went to his home for a business meeting and the gentleman's son and grandson were there. I met them last week and we discussed our mutual fondness for tea. I told them that I had some experience working in a tea room at one point and they were somewhat shocked that I knew so much about how it is served and the numerous categories of tea, etc.
When I went to their house today, my host's son (a man well into his 70s, I'd imagine) welcomed me warmly and quickly informed me that the kettle was on the stove. I thanked him and told him he didn't need to go to any trouble and he shrugged off my attempts at politeness as he disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back out, he was carrying a beautiful tea set, prepared completely and totally for me. He then brought me seven different kinds of loose leaf teas to choose from and I happily settled on the Darjeeling, which has always been a long time favorite. He started to chuckle but wouldn't tell me why.
He had poured the boiling water into a gorgeous china tea pot and told me that tea should always be served in china tea pots. I didn't argue and I'm pretty sure the expensive container holding the tea managed to charm the flavor. It was so heavenly and I felt like a queen! Then, as I was sitting there drinking my Darjeeling with one lump of sugar thank you very much, he rushed over to me exclaiming that he had something he wanted me to look at. Once again he disappeared around the corner and came back with a copy of "Love in the Time of Cholera."
I couldn't stop smiling. While my dad was conducting professional business in the other room, I was sipping tea out of china with a fine linen napkin in my lap and a classic novel in my hand. I felt like I was in the middle of a Jane Austen made for tv movie. It just felt so good to take time out of the madness and business of the world to enjoy the finery of a cup of tea! And when I got up to leave, he helped me with my coat and said that the reason he was laughing about my choice of tea was that Darjeeling was his mother's favorite. He grabbed my hands and I thanked him for the lovely time. La la la la. I think I will always make tea.
When I went to their house today, my host's son (a man well into his 70s, I'd imagine) welcomed me warmly and quickly informed me that the kettle was on the stove. I thanked him and told him he didn't need to go to any trouble and he shrugged off my attempts at politeness as he disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back out, he was carrying a beautiful tea set, prepared completely and totally for me. He then brought me seven different kinds of loose leaf teas to choose from and I happily settled on the Darjeeling, which has always been a long time favorite. He started to chuckle but wouldn't tell me why.
He had poured the boiling water into a gorgeous china tea pot and told me that tea should always be served in china tea pots. I didn't argue and I'm pretty sure the expensive container holding the tea managed to charm the flavor. It was so heavenly and I felt like a queen! Then, as I was sitting there drinking my Darjeeling with one lump of sugar thank you very much, he rushed over to me exclaiming that he had something he wanted me to look at. Once again he disappeared around the corner and came back with a copy of "Love in the Time of Cholera."
I couldn't stop smiling. While my dad was conducting professional business in the other room, I was sipping tea out of china with a fine linen napkin in my lap and a classic novel in my hand. I felt like I was in the middle of a Jane Austen made for tv movie. It just felt so good to take time out of the madness and business of the world to enjoy the finery of a cup of tea! And when I got up to leave, he helped me with my coat and said that the reason he was laughing about my choice of tea was that Darjeeling was his mother's favorite. He grabbed my hands and I thanked him for the lovely time. La la la la. I think I will always make tea.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
I Have A Life. I Prrrrromise.
Much of my life lately has consisted of the wonderful and beautiful world of abc.com. Folks, if you have never been to this website, go. run. flee to the goodness that awaits you. I know being a full time grad student and a full time employee of Upyours & Associates (I can totally say that...I work for my dad) I have no business whatsoever spending hours of my life watching online videos of television shows I have no business whatsoever being obsessed with. But, for the love of all things holy and pure, I can't help myself. It's free. With limited commercial interruptions. And, I for one sleep so much better at night knowing I am fully caught up on the latest prime time television events.
Of course, the writer's strike has incessantly been raining on the parade of my shameful hobby, though I totally and completely support them. In fact, I think my online viewing has prompted some of the writers' complaints because they aren't getting paid for all of my free hours of entertainment. And they should. Uhhh...but, I ain't stoppin.
So, during this strike-I-fully-support-but-selfishly-want-to-be-rid-of, I've been immersed in the following:
Oh sweet salvation. A couple of years ago, I borrowed Season 1 from a friend and became completely hooked. Yes, I have an obsessive personality, thank you for your concern. However, they were in the middle of Season 2 when I finished Season 1 and abc.com simply wasn't around at the time to relieve me. So, I took a bit of a hiatus, during which time I was totally and completely lost...so to speak.
But, recently, abc.com (the aforementioned salvation) has posted Seasons 1, 2, and 3 on their website in HD. For Free. All three seasons. For Free. For my viewing pleasure. For Free.
I am currently almost done with Season 2. And, you all have to understand that most of the reason I am being so supportive of the series is because my husband, Matthew Fox, stars on the show. And, yes, ladies, he's as handsome in real life as he is on the show. Take this picture, for example:
Oh, this day was so fun. I was on set with him and he brought a picnic lunch for us. When he was done shooting for the day, we went away from the rest of the crew and found a location on the beach that was private. I snapped this picture of him right after he told me he wanted to try and have children.
Of course, the writer's strike has incessantly been raining on the parade of my shameful hobby, though I totally and completely support them. In fact, I think my online viewing has prompted some of the writers' complaints because they aren't getting paid for all of my free hours of entertainment. And they should. Uhhh...but, I ain't stoppin.
So, during this strike-I-fully-support-but-selfishly-want-to-be-rid-of, I've been immersed in the following:
Oh sweet salvation. A couple of years ago, I borrowed Season 1 from a friend and became completely hooked. Yes, I have an obsessive personality, thank you for your concern. However, they were in the middle of Season 2 when I finished Season 1 and abc.com simply wasn't around at the time to relieve me. So, I took a bit of a hiatus, during which time I was totally and completely lost...so to speak.
But, recently, abc.com (the aforementioned salvation) has posted Seasons 1, 2, and 3 on their website in HD. For Free. All three seasons. For Free. For my viewing pleasure. For Free.
I am currently almost done with Season 2. And, you all have to understand that most of the reason I am being so supportive of the series is because my husband, Matthew Fox, stars on the show. And, yes, ladies, he's as handsome in real life as he is on the show. Take this picture, for example:
Oh, this day was so fun. I was on set with him and he brought a picnic lunch for us. When he was done shooting for the day, we went away from the rest of the crew and found a location on the beach that was private. I snapped this picture of him right after he told me he wanted to try and have children.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Elevator Awkwardness
I'm sure many of you lovely people have experienced those times in your life when you are forced into an intimate situation without knowing the person with whom you are sharing the intimacy. I'm talking about the elevator. There's a standard our society has set for almost every situation in life except this one. It's as if life just hands you this little bucket of awkwardness and says "Here. Deal with it." Some of us deal with it very well by talking about the weather (suitable for everyone), the awesome football/basketball/hockey/soccer/baseball game (suitable mostly for the guys), or last night's episode of Grey's Anatomy/The Bachelor/Desperate Housewives/American Idol (particularly suitable for the ladies).
To all of you who manage to make those elevator rides a little less uncomfortable, I thank you. You truly exemplify what it means to step outside ourselves and reach into the lives of others, if only for the timespan of however long it takes to get from the Lobby to the third floor.
However, there are those of us who still have yet to figure out how to handle the inevitable situation of being one on one with a stranger in an elevator. If this is you, then I want you to know that I'm here to tell you the awkwardness ends now. Today. This moment. I'm going to outline several instances in which certain levels of discomfort may arise (pun intended) on an elevator. I will also provide you with easy tools to help deal with them so that you and your strange elevator partner will be able to part company with ease and satisfaction.
Awkward Elevator Situation Number 1: The Button Watcher.
This situation usually occurs in most business/doctor's office settings, where the elevator passenger has much more on their mind than friendly banter. This intrusive amount of thinking forces them to lean their head back and stare blankly at the tiny numbers above the doors watching them progressively light up as the elevator ascends.
Now, I want you to take full advantage of their body language in this situation. Their pre-occupied brain and their tilted head stance has clearly given you the perfect opportunity to step in gradually behind them, lean quietly forward, and smell their neck. You will want to use caution here, however, especially if you are a man and your predestined elevator passenger happens to be a girl. If this is the case, gentlemen, I strongly suggest that no words be exchanged. A small whiff will be sufficient.
But for all other situations, ladies and gentlemen, please feel free to comment on the remarkable aroma exuding from their neckline. This is going to be most effective if the tone you use is soft and breathy, so as not to frighten your fellow passenger. After the exchange has taken place, step back and smile, because, friend, you have just overcome awkward elevator situation number one.
Awkward Elevator Situation Number 2: The Key Fiddler/Purse Digger
We've all seen it. You step on an elevator with a person and they deliberately avoid eye contact with you and intentionally divert their interest to the number of keys on their keychain or the number of loose gum wrappers in their purse. You might feel somewhat offended, and you should be! This is the second most offensive elevator relationship scenario (see Awkward Elevator Situation Number 3 for the most offensive).
Here's how I suggest we handle this situation. Just like in our first scenario, I want you to take a very close look at the body stance of this thoughtless passenger. Clearly, they are going to have their head down and their focus averted. Wait until the doors close, count to five, and then throw your keys or cell phone at their downward tilted head. Inevitably, this will grab their attention and put the focus back on you, where it belongs. Chances are they will look at you in astonishment and fear. If this happens just casually say "I know. Right?" And bug your eyes out in disbelief so that they can understand that THEY are the ones in the wrong here, not you.
If all goes according to planned, you will be laughing about it by the time you reach your destination. (Note: Do not attempt this on anyone who (a) is wearing all leather (b) has more visible tattoos than you (c) is carrying a briefcase while wearing dark glasses and an Armani suit or (d) could possibly be carrying a concealed weapon.)
Awkward Elevator Situation Number 3: The Cell-Phone Talker
Again, this has probably happened to all of us. You walk into an elevator with a person, offer them a friendly smile, and they shun you by carrying on with their conversation about lame things like "business meetings" and "Aunt Patty's life threatening disease." Come on. How rude can you be? These absurdly inconsiderate elevator passengers clearly have one thing on their mind...themselves. So, as in situation number 2, I want you to think of ways to bring the attention back to yourself. Engage them. Make them want to hang up with the person on the other end of that darn modern technological relationship destroyer.
Here's my recommendation: Make sex noises. This sure-fire method has the potential of immediately grabbing not only your estranged passenger's attention, but quite possibly the attention of the person he/she is talking to, as well. If that is the case, then pat yourself on the back. Success. You will have to keep in mind, however, that this person will have one of two responses. He/she will either be wildly intrigued by your sudden orgasmic outburst or (worst-case scenario) he/she will threaten violent bodily harm because the person they were talking to happened to be their spouse and now you've ruined their marriage, blah blah blah. If that happens, you should just smile and say "Hey, man. You were the one being rude, talking on the phone during our elevator ride." Hopefully, they will understand, and, again, you will be laughing hysterically about it by the time you reach your destination...hopefully.
To all of you who manage to make those elevator rides a little less uncomfortable, I thank you. You truly exemplify what it means to step outside ourselves and reach into the lives of others, if only for the timespan of however long it takes to get from the Lobby to the third floor.
However, there are those of us who still have yet to figure out how to handle the inevitable situation of being one on one with a stranger in an elevator. If this is you, then I want you to know that I'm here to tell you the awkwardness ends now. Today. This moment. I'm going to outline several instances in which certain levels of discomfort may arise (pun intended) on an elevator. I will also provide you with easy tools to help deal with them so that you and your strange elevator partner will be able to part company with ease and satisfaction.
Awkward Elevator Situation Number 1: The Button Watcher.
This situation usually occurs in most business/doctor's office settings, where the elevator passenger has much more on their mind than friendly banter. This intrusive amount of thinking forces them to lean their head back and stare blankly at the tiny numbers above the doors watching them progressively light up as the elevator ascends.
Now, I want you to take full advantage of their body language in this situation. Their pre-occupied brain and their tilted head stance has clearly given you the perfect opportunity to step in gradually behind them, lean quietly forward, and smell their neck. You will want to use caution here, however, especially if you are a man and your predestined elevator passenger happens to be a girl. If this is the case, gentlemen, I strongly suggest that no words be exchanged. A small whiff will be sufficient.
But for all other situations, ladies and gentlemen, please feel free to comment on the remarkable aroma exuding from their neckline. This is going to be most effective if the tone you use is soft and breathy, so as not to frighten your fellow passenger. After the exchange has taken place, step back and smile, because, friend, you have just overcome awkward elevator situation number one.
Awkward Elevator Situation Number 2: The Key Fiddler/Purse Digger
We've all seen it. You step on an elevator with a person and they deliberately avoid eye contact with you and intentionally divert their interest to the number of keys on their keychain or the number of loose gum wrappers in their purse. You might feel somewhat offended, and you should be! This is the second most offensive elevator relationship scenario (see Awkward Elevator Situation Number 3 for the most offensive).
Here's how I suggest we handle this situation. Just like in our first scenario, I want you to take a very close look at the body stance of this thoughtless passenger. Clearly, they are going to have their head down and their focus averted. Wait until the doors close, count to five, and then throw your keys or cell phone at their downward tilted head. Inevitably, this will grab their attention and put the focus back on you, where it belongs. Chances are they will look at you in astonishment and fear. If this happens just casually say "I know. Right?" And bug your eyes out in disbelief so that they can understand that THEY are the ones in the wrong here, not you.
If all goes according to planned, you will be laughing about it by the time you reach your destination. (Note: Do not attempt this on anyone who (a) is wearing all leather (b) has more visible tattoos than you (c) is carrying a briefcase while wearing dark glasses and an Armani suit or (d) could possibly be carrying a concealed weapon.)
Awkward Elevator Situation Number 3: The Cell-Phone Talker
Again, this has probably happened to all of us. You walk into an elevator with a person, offer them a friendly smile, and they shun you by carrying on with their conversation about lame things like "business meetings" and "Aunt Patty's life threatening disease." Come on. How rude can you be? These absurdly inconsiderate elevator passengers clearly have one thing on their mind...themselves. So, as in situation number 2, I want you to think of ways to bring the attention back to yourself. Engage them. Make them want to hang up with the person on the other end of that darn modern technological relationship destroyer.
Here's my recommendation: Make sex noises. This sure-fire method has the potential of immediately grabbing not only your estranged passenger's attention, but quite possibly the attention of the person he/she is talking to, as well. If that is the case, then pat yourself on the back. Success. You will have to keep in mind, however, that this person will have one of two responses. He/she will either be wildly intrigued by your sudden orgasmic outburst or (worst-case scenario) he/she will threaten violent bodily harm because the person they were talking to happened to be their spouse and now you've ruined their marriage, blah blah blah. If that happens, you should just smile and say "Hey, man. You were the one being rude, talking on the phone during our elevator ride." Hopefully, they will understand, and, again, you will be laughing hysterically about it by the time you reach your destination...hopefully.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Where in the World is Carmen San Diego?
Good gracious, does anyone remember playing that in about 4th grade? That and the one with the prairie wagon. To this day, I'm still not sure what titian hair color is, or even how to pronounce it, for that matter. Ah, those were the days. I remember loving computer class and feeling like someone had given me a lifetime supply of cotton candy whenever I didn't have to share a computer with anyone.
But, of course, that wasn't the internet. Those were just computer games. Still...I felt the need to reminisce just then. Now, I think about how my little brothers can access a world of information through the internet on their phones if they are bored with gym class or just have an overall disinterest in whomever might be standing within a three foot radius. It's crazy! I feel like I should be in my rocking chair knitting an afghan and I'm only 25! But, I don't think I ever really surfed the internet until I was in my freshman year of college back in 1999. *insert sound of rocking chair here*
I remember the thrill and excitement of creating my own email account (it's free?! no way!) and the first time I felt warm fuzzies over the thoughtful email from the gentleman who expressed a passionate concern for my abnormally small penis (which I didn't even know I had).
Wonder led to appreciation and appreciation led to desperation and now, well, if I can't figure out the qualifying height of a dwarf in 2.8 seconds, then I just throw the damn thing across the room (the computer, not the dwarf).
But, of course, that wasn't the internet. Those were just computer games. Still...I felt the need to reminisce just then. Now, I think about how my little brothers can access a world of information through the internet on their phones if they are bored with gym class or just have an overall disinterest in whomever might be standing within a three foot radius. It's crazy! I feel like I should be in my rocking chair knitting an afghan and I'm only 25! But, I don't think I ever really surfed the internet until I was in my freshman year of college back in 1999. *insert sound of rocking chair here*
I remember the thrill and excitement of creating my own email account (it's free?! no way!) and the first time I felt warm fuzzies over the thoughtful email from the gentleman who expressed a passionate concern for my abnormally small penis (which I didn't even know I had).
Wonder led to appreciation and appreciation led to desperation and now, well, if I can't figure out the qualifying height of a dwarf in 2.8 seconds, then I just throw the damn thing across the room (the computer, not the dwarf).
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