Category: My Life

Boulder, Colorado

We arrive at the car rental agency and they only have white cars. This is a problem because Bryan will not drive a white car. They remind him of his parents’ cars. We wait, in the cold, while the car rental guy retrieves a beige car. This, apparently, is sufficiently psychologically comforting. We settle in.

Me:What’s this barbecue implement doing in the back seat?

Bryan: You’re kidding. You’ve never seen an ice scraper?

Me: Where would I have seen an ice scraper?

Bryan: I don’t know. Movies? National Geographic?

Me: Right. What movie prominently featured an ice scraper?

Bryan: When Harry Met Sally.

Me: When?

Bryan: When they were scraping the ice off the windshield.

Me: That never happened.

Bryan: Okay. Fargo.

Me: When?

Bryan: When William H. Macy is scraping the windshield and he starts freaking out and beating the car because he knows they’re gonna catch him.

Me: … Are you enjoying your beige car?

Overheard: Respect on the N

Scenario: The N Line is packed and quiet. Passengers are jammed against each other, the windows, the doors.

Characters: Two men in their early thirties. They are strangers.

Guy 1: Man!

Guy 2: (Gives a low whistle.)

Guy 1: I saw someone assassinated in London. I have a healthy respect for crowds.

Guy 2: (Raises eyebrows, refrains from eye contact.)

Guy 1: Oh yeah. POP! Then the guy just took off running.

Guy 2: (Shifts uncomfortably.)

Guy 1: Respect the crowds.

Discovery

In the city, sometimes you’ll smell something in the air, and you’re not quite sure what it is. At first you think it’s a savory smell–Chinese food, or maybe pizza. Then, when you inhale deeply, you realize it’s the stink of something profoundly rotten, so rotten that you can taste it in the back of your throat.

I hate surprises.

Overheard: Blue

Two twenty-something women chat over coffee.

This friend of mine knows this girl who’s always like, “What’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite kind of car?” Like, she doesn’t engage in conversation, she’s just always asking who your favorite band is or what you’re going to be for Halloween.

Like, next year?

Yeah.

And do you totally go on with it, or do you laugh?

Yeah. I go, “My favorite color is blue, what’s yours?”

Trading Your eye for Mine

In conversation with the cab driver, the subject turns to crime.

Me: There seems to be a lot less crime in this area lately.

Cabbie: No. I been robbed twice.

Me: Really?

Cabbie: Yeah. Two times with knife.

Me: Oh no! What happened?

Cabbie: Nothing. Guys just wanted my money.

Me: That’s terrible! Were you hurt?

Cabbie: No, no.

Me: Did they both get away?

Cabbie: Oh sure! But one of them, he run in front of my car and I hit him. Stupid asshole.

Me: You hit him with the cab?

Cabbie: Yeah. He take my money, I hit him. Broke his leg good.

Me: Whoa! Did you get your money back?

Cabbie: No way! He had a knife.

Me: So you just drove away?

Cabbie: Yeah. He rob me, he get what he deserved.

Sacred V. Profane, Death Match

On the main strip in Vegas, there’s a billboard of a Hindu god with many hands. Each hand contains something holy: slot machines, dice, cards, a snow globe, a coffee mug, a showgirl. The slogan reads, “Souvenir Nirvana.”

About a hundred feet farther, there’s one with Jesus on it, but he only has two hands, so he’s holding a tiny prostitute in one hand and a martini in the other. The slogan reads, “Heaven on Earth.”

OK, all of that is true except for the part about Jesus. It’s actually a billboard of Buddha.

Kidding again! Vegas would never do that to Buddha and his lucky, lucky tummy.

Self Medicating

I feel like glahr. Gllaaaahhhhr. I got sick before I left for Utah, and oddly, a week of hiking and 3a.m. girl-talk sessions kind of made me feel worse. Now my phlegm is abundant and green. I fear that it’s a new phlegm-based life form that can draw energy from the sun and overtake the earth. The trip was totally worth it though.

Tomorrow we’re off to Vegas, because I hear Ann Margaret has restorative powers. Actually, it’s because Bryan is turning 36. (Happy birthday, baby!) So if you notice a mound of green ooze blocking out the sun, that’s because weak margaritas, second-hand smoke, and the taint of despair aren’t good for my cold either. Sorry about that.

World Watching

Gym soundtrack by iPod:

  • Old Navy shorts commercial: Missy Elliot’s “Work It.”
  • Yoga class: instrumental introduction of The Postal Service’s “Such Great Heights.”
  • Elliptical machines: “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” by the Tokens

Overheard: Fool License

Scenario: Two unclever strangers at the bar in mid-afternoon have a loud conversation across the room from one another. Each would like to impress the cute-girl bartender.

…I can’t believe that. It’s detestable.

Did you say testicle?

What?

Testicle?

Testimal?

No, testicle.

OH! No. I said detestable.

Ha. I like to say that sometimes. Testicle! Just slip it into the conversation and see if anyone notices.

I have a tendency to pop my head up over the edge of my cube and say, “has anyone seen my hands?” That one really gets ’em.

Huh. That’s a good one.

I like to, when I’m coding, you put something in the code that’s completely vulgar and disgusting and see if anyone catches it. That way you know if your code got reviewed.

Huh, I’ve never tried that. That’s a good one.

(Vulgar-code-comments guy turns to cute-girl bartender and addresses her in his best announcer voice. She responds.)

Well, it’s good to have you two in the bar. I’m Carlo, your host! Come by more often.

Wow. It’s not often we have a host.

I’m missing my white suit and plane overhead. And the running midget.

(Brief pause as she ignores him.)

I guess I should get to work drumming up some business for you.

Do. I give you full license.

I’m not fooling anyone.

No. Full. Full license. Like, I give you full authority.

Ohhhh.