"DO YOU EVEN REALIZE HOW FAST YOUR LIFE HAS GONE DOWNHILL SINCE YOU MET AMY?!" -L
I think I'm a little proud of that one.
"Dating Amy... it's like getting into a car with a drunk driver... We're going fast! We're going slow! We're swerving now... now we're turning! No wait. Swerving. Now we're going fast. Am I gonna make it out alive?!?" -J
In my defense, neither of those people have dated me...
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
The times... they are a changin'...
Last night, I wore boat shoes on the D6. Don’t worry, they weren’t mine. They were borrowed for last minute kayaking because I had nothing else. But they were still boat shoes. On my feet. Consensually. I will admit that. I was afraid it would forever destroy the integrity of the D6, replacing straight thug cred with whiny, northern Virginia arrogance. There was a man who sat next to me whose distracting case of the shakes were worsened on the way from 2nd to 14th Street. I’m certain the boat shoes were to blame. But alas, I made it home and convinced myself that I had committed worse atrocities in my time. Like the time I wore cargo shorts in public – that was way worse… right? The night went strangely. I had a cigarette for dinner. I cleaned my room for the first time in a month. The universe seemed to be turned upside down.
I got on the d6 this morning to go to work, and BAM! Right next to me stood this boy next door with green eyes, an upturned nose with a spattering of freckles, ray bans, khakis, and boat shoes. His light reading? A kindle with a book about wine. The chapter I caught was called Imperial Vine. Seriously. I don’t know why he was on the bus, or what his father would say, but I feel single handedly responsible for paving the way for that to happen. Nothing further happened on the bus this morning, except that my iPod ran out of power so I had to sit in discomfort and fill my ears with the bitter silence of preppy entitlement that replaced the once bustling d6 crowd.
Other overheards? In San Antonio…
“Do you ever look around yourself and realize how horribly unpopular you are?” –A, on a 6 year old placing a special request to sit next to another aunt
“I mean, I know I’m not fat, but I want a wedding body.” – one skinny girl to another on the blue line. This is really what our world has come to.
I got on the d6 this morning to go to work, and BAM! Right next to me stood this boy next door with green eyes, an upturned nose with a spattering of freckles, ray bans, khakis, and boat shoes. His light reading? A kindle with a book about wine. The chapter I caught was called Imperial Vine. Seriously. I don’t know why he was on the bus, or what his father would say, but I feel single handedly responsible for paving the way for that to happen. Nothing further happened on the bus this morning, except that my iPod ran out of power so I had to sit in discomfort and fill my ears with the bitter silence of preppy entitlement that replaced the once bustling d6 crowd.
Other overheards? In San Antonio…
“Do you ever look around yourself and realize how horribly unpopular you are?” –A, on a 6 year old placing a special request to sit next to another aunt
“I mean, I know I’m not fat, but I want a wedding body.” – one skinny girl to another on the blue line. This is really what our world has come to.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Chick of the House
Peewee (Piwi?) is a pretty cool guy that lives across the street from me. Actually, I'm not sure which house he lives in, or whether he lives in a house at all. What I do know is that he has pretty sweet dreads, and if it weren't for him, peoples' cars wouldn't be washed, grass wouldn't be cut, and there would be no one to creep on me when I get dropped off at home after dates. He may be a touch of crazy, and I'm not sure that I've ever seen him sober, but I appreciate his consistency in my life, and the fact that he only speaks to me because "the man of the house" (how do you like that, J?) told him to ask "the chick with the bike" about his money for cutting our grass. For some reason, those transactions always feel borderline illegal. I remind myself that I'm not directly supplementing his habit, but the stealthy way he avoids my roommates unless he's looking for me, or the way he asks about his payment always feels like I'm doing a cameo in Next Friday or something.
Anyway, last night I was heading out of the house, and I caught him mid-sermon. He wore a full length jumpsuit, with the whole front open. With a 40 oz clutched in his hand, he raised his arm triumphantly, shouting "Yea if walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I ain't fearin' nothin, damnit!" I'm glad he memorized that psalm so accurately. His audience was the old man that actually does live in that house (he sits on the front porch and drinks all day- living the good life), a six year old girl who just dropped her bike to listen, and a poodle. Not sure who's poodle it was. In retrospect, I wish I would have stuck around for the rest of the sermon.
And finally, I'll leave you with an actual text messsage I received a few nights ago. Please note that both parties are under the age of 26: "S just challenged me to do cane tricks around my apartment and I knocked over stuff. That cane is baller." Drunk chicks with walking aids. This is the way I always pictured young adulthood.
Anyway, last night I was heading out of the house, and I caught him mid-sermon. He wore a full length jumpsuit, with the whole front open. With a 40 oz clutched in his hand, he raised his arm triumphantly, shouting "Yea if walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I ain't fearin' nothin, damnit!" I'm glad he memorized that psalm so accurately. His audience was the old man that actually does live in that house (he sits on the front porch and drinks all day- living the good life), a six year old girl who just dropped her bike to listen, and a poodle. Not sure who's poodle it was. In retrospect, I wish I would have stuck around for the rest of the sermon.
And finally, I'll leave you with an actual text messsage I received a few nights ago. Please note that both parties are under the age of 26: "S just challenged me to do cane tricks around my apartment and I knocked over stuff. That cane is baller." Drunk chicks with walking aids. This is the way I always pictured young adulthood.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Your eyes freak me out...
"I like your tattoo." -an 8 year old boy, to me. I've never felt like such a sorry excuse for a grown up in my life. Hopefully he saw me trip on the way out and realized I am not cool and he should not look up to me...
"She's nice. She's pretty- like real country- she looks like home. You? You're really, nice, but I had to get used to it. I was really freaked out by you at first. Those eyes? *shudders*..." Said to me. I was not country girl. I am apparently the one with crazy eyes.
"She's nice. She's pretty- like real country- she looks like home. You? You're really, nice, but I had to get used to it. I was really freaked out by you at first. Those eyes? *shudders*..." Said to me. I was not country girl. I am apparently the one with crazy eyes.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Overheard in a cab
Pride week in DC had a lot of "overheard" moments, as one can imagine. I saw people in their actual underwear, walking in front of the capital. But one of my favorite interactions took place in a cab as I was leaving the Pride Parade in Dupont Circle.
Cab Driver: "I wonder why traffic is so bad... what's going on there?"
Me: "Pride Parade! It was a blast."
CD: "Interesting. What kind of parade?"
Me: "It was... a really colorful, really glittery parade."
CD: "What was it like?"
Me: "Proud... lots of dancing and techno."
CD: "Hm... I'm proud..."
Excellent moment of confusion.
Cab Driver: "I wonder why traffic is so bad... what's going on there?"
Me: "Pride Parade! It was a blast."
CD: "Interesting. What kind of parade?"
Me: "It was... a really colorful, really glittery parade."
CD: "What was it like?"
Me: "Proud... lots of dancing and techno."
CD: "Hm... I'm proud..."
Excellent moment of confusion.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Makin it rain
The following exchange took place in a work meeting. Too frequently in the non-profit industry, people throw around colloquialisms because they think it makes them sound unique and open minded and progressive, when actually it just sounds like they read an article on holistic, sustainable farming and wanted to repeat those words. And since those of us forced to listen to that are usually some breed or degree of social worker (and therefore frequent offenders ourselves), we never call them out on it because we, too, are trying to be accepting of all ideas and opinions. This happened while trying to establish the purpose of a particular group…
Guy: “I really that this exists to bring us all together. Maybe our mission is based on the fact that we’re all coming together each month.”
Lady: rolls eyes… “We could be coming together to play bridge every month.” Thanks, lady… I didn’t have to say it.
Let’s change scenery a little. This gem was uttered by my friend R., to justify a romantic encounter with a person she has no attraction to or interest in: “I just like to make people happy. Is that so wrong?” Yes, R. That is wrong- even when it feels so right. I’m just glad I get to share this story with the Internet.
How about this seen in my text inbox... this is from A, who just returned to America from an extended stay overseas: “Question. I know our economy has really gone downhill. Is it normal for me to have paid $6 for a snacksized bag of chips and a Snapple? This shit would be 2 euro, is all I’m saying. I actually did a double take and questioned it. Then took out the monopoly money that is USD and made it rain.”
Finally, let’s end with an oldie but a goodie. Well, hell, it just happened this morning, but it felt familiar to this blog, so here we go. This was a crazed, probably high woman walking threateningly towards an older white haired man stretching out post-run at 5:30 AM. Woman: “You’re probably a goddamn congressman!” Sadly, I was the only one who thought it was funny. Maybe you will too. In conclusion, TGIF, Happy Pride Weekend, DC, and let’s all go look heat stroke in the eye.
Guy: “I really that this exists to bring us all together. Maybe our mission is based on the fact that we’re all coming together each month.”
Lady: rolls eyes… “We could be coming together to play bridge every month.” Thanks, lady… I didn’t have to say it.
Let’s change scenery a little. This gem was uttered by my friend R., to justify a romantic encounter with a person she has no attraction to or interest in: “I just like to make people happy. Is that so wrong?” Yes, R. That is wrong- even when it feels so right. I’m just glad I get to share this story with the Internet.
How about this seen in my text inbox... this is from A, who just returned to America from an extended stay overseas: “Question. I know our economy has really gone downhill. Is it normal for me to have paid $6 for a snacksized bag of chips and a Snapple? This shit would be 2 euro, is all I’m saying. I actually did a double take and questioned it. Then took out the monopoly money that is USD and made it rain.”
Finally, let’s end with an oldie but a goodie. Well, hell, it just happened this morning, but it felt familiar to this blog, so here we go. This was a crazed, probably high woman walking threateningly towards an older white haired man stretching out post-run at 5:30 AM. Woman: “You’re probably a goddamn congressman!” Sadly, I was the only one who thought it was funny. Maybe you will too. In conclusion, TGIF, Happy Pride Weekend, DC, and let’s all go look heat stroke in the eye.
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