• People who gesticulate wildly when they’re on the phone
• People who touch your shoulder and apologize after they’ve bumped you on the bus

Has anyone listened to the rapper in the background on that Dodge Durango commercial? He actually says: “I grab life like I grab my wife!”

Which is just a smidge more awful than the compelling tagline on the posters for the new Lizzie McGuire movie: “She’s leaving home and going to Rome.”

etude n. Music

A piece composed for the development of a specific point of technique.

[from Old French estudie, study.]

Do you understand those people who keep colonies of stuffed animals in the rear windows of their cars? Do they hope that other motorists will see the collection and be impressed by their obvious appreciation of cute cuddliness? At night, aren’t they concerned that the especially cute, cuddly ones will come to life and wriggle their way into the front seat to lie in wait for their return?

I passed a strip joint this morning with a sign that read, See the beauty, touch the magic. It strikes me that guys who’ve been watching naked women grind for a few hours are going to want to touch a lot more than the magic.

For the past several months, I’ve been ending telephone conversations with bye-ya. I know it’s hideous; I’m powerless to stop. It makes me sound like the woman who waits outside before the craft store opens, the woman who relates interesting stories she heard on Oprah, the woman who knows how to bake an excellent bundt cake.

The thing is, I am that woman. I’m going to get married, have a few kids, find a cat, bake a few too many tasty cakes, and die fat. And it all starts with bye-ya, folks.

Time to start writing that book.

This girl is waiting for the bus with her friend. She has day-glo pink hair and is wearing jeans ripped off at the knees over a pair of black and white-striped tights. She has a small safety pin through her left nostril. She is practicing what can only be a cheerleading routine.

Twee: Overly precious or nice. Affectedly dainty.

Our landlady lives below us; she’s rarely home. When someone calls her answering machine and leaves a message, it makes this sound:

Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep

In a coffee shop on the park, this man is putting together a model airplane. It is an A38-800 Airbus.

The counter guy is not pleased. This man comes around too often and perhaps stays too long; the airplane takes up too much room at a communal table. The counter guy approaches. Oh great, he says. You’re here to stink up the place with airplane glue.

Oh no! the hobbyist says, grinning. He is a man who doesn’t often get attention from strangers. I’m just cutting it out. See? The counter guy nods and makes a nasal sound.

In the corner a professional ballerina is being photographed with her students. In the bathroom, the girl in the next stall answers her cell phone while she’s peeing. She makes plans to meet up for drinks with her pants around her ankles. She is wearing blue Puma tennis shoes, and I wonder if her friend can hear the rattle of the toilet paper dispenser as they decide between Doc’s and Blondies. She hangs up and leaves without washing her hands.