My 16-month old niece was bitten by another kid recently at day care, and I guess she learned from her peer, because my sister was just informed that my niece had now bitten another child.
At first I was a little taken aback. I was thinking, “No niece of mine would ever bite someone!”
And then I heard the circumstances. Apparently, she bit another little girl on the finger when the girl tried to take her cookie.
Ah, yes. Now it all comes together. She is truly one of my people.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Bathroom Lady Update
She followed up with me after giving me the personal advice the other week.
I saw her in the hall, which is much better than seeing her in the bathroom, because the hall means I can keep moving.
BL (looks me up and down, very meaningfully, eyebrows raised): “How was your weekend??”
me: “It was pretty good.”
BL: "Did you see your friend?”
me: “What friend?”
BL, getting more to the point: “Did you see any boys? What did you do?”
me, thinking, “No,I did not see any boys”: “Well, I had dinner with a couple of friends on Friday-“
BL, cutting me off: “with a boy?”
me: “No, with some friends, who are girls.
BL: looks disappointed
me: “and I went to a party Saturday night.”
BL: “Did you see any boys there??”
me: “There were both men and women at the party.”
BL: “oh…??!”
me, “yep, it was fun.” (I never think about it, but I play this “I don’t know what you’re talking about” act a lot. It’s kind of like my passive-aggressive revenge, to make it not so easy for them to get the information they’re looking for.)
And I kept walking. I have a feeling she’s not done with me yet.
(by the way, my friend, Anonymous #2, has said she will start calling me “the white Beyonce". I will respond to this.)
I saw her in the hall, which is much better than seeing her in the bathroom, because the hall means I can keep moving.
BL (looks me up and down, very meaningfully, eyebrows raised): “How was your weekend??”
me: “It was pretty good.”
BL: "Did you see your friend?”
me: “What friend?”
BL, getting more to the point: “Did you see any boys? What did you do?”
me, thinking, “No,I did not see any boys”: “Well, I had dinner with a couple of friends on Friday-“
BL, cutting me off: “with a boy?”
me: “No, with some friends, who are girls.
BL: looks disappointed
me: “and I went to a party Saturday night.”
BL: “Did you see any boys there??”
me: “There were both men and women at the party.”
BL: “oh…??!”
me, “yep, it was fun.” (I never think about it, but I play this “I don’t know what you’re talking about” act a lot. It’s kind of like my passive-aggressive revenge, to make it not so easy for them to get the information they’re looking for.)
And I kept walking. I have a feeling she’s not done with me yet.
(by the way, my friend, Anonymous #2, has said she will start calling me “the white Beyonce". I will respond to this.)
Monday, August 27, 2007
you know this date isn't going to go well when:
1) You find a string of beads under the seat in his car, and, whipping them wildly about over your heard you jubilantly exclaim, “Mardi Gras beads!!!!” and he says, “um, that’s my rosary.”
2) He states, very seriously, that he would prefer for you to always wear your hair up, just as it was the first time he saw you.
3) He tells you that during his morning praise routine, he got so excited that his pants fell off, so he kicked them away and kept on… jumping? whatever he was doing.
4) You actually really like the guy, which means that your mouth takes on a will of its own and spouts forth a jumble of words and a head-spinning rate, and the next thing you know you hear it saying, “My great-grandparents were first cousins!”, a secret that you had never told a soul, and suddenly you've told him and a small crowd of onlookers that you're inbred.
Fortunately for me, none of these were my circumstances. I used to have a roommate who could bring home some great dating stories – I just wished I remembered more of them. She called herself “the 3 date wonder”. That was before she was married, of course. Thanks for entertaining me, Dolly. And for reminding me I wasn’t the only acquainted with disaster.
Actually, we had things in common even in our early years. We both liked Miss Piggy, bologna & cheese sandwiches, and seeing how much chocolate cake we could fit into our mouths at one time. So, Miss Piggy and eating. That about sums it up. What else do two young friends need, anyway?
That's me in the foreground, and Dolly* in the distance with the funky hair.
Little ladies in the making.
* Dolly isn't her real name, but some people are more comfortable with talking me into being on the Internet, than with being briefly mentioned themselves. mmhmm.
2) He states, very seriously, that he would prefer for you to always wear your hair up, just as it was the first time he saw you.
3) He tells you that during his morning praise routine, he got so excited that his pants fell off, so he kicked them away and kept on… jumping? whatever he was doing.
4) You actually really like the guy, which means that your mouth takes on a will of its own and spouts forth a jumble of words and a head-spinning rate, and the next thing you know you hear it saying, “My great-grandparents were first cousins!”, a secret that you had never told a soul, and suddenly you've told him and a small crowd of onlookers that you're inbred.
Fortunately for me, none of these were my circumstances. I used to have a roommate who could bring home some great dating stories – I just wished I remembered more of them. She called herself “the 3 date wonder”. That was before she was married, of course. Thanks for entertaining me, Dolly. And for reminding me I wasn’t the only acquainted with disaster.
Actually, we had things in common even in our early years. We both liked Miss Piggy, bologna & cheese sandwiches, and seeing how much chocolate cake we could fit into our mouths at one time. So, Miss Piggy and eating. That about sums it up. What else do two young friends need, anyway?
That's me in the foreground, and Dolly* in the distance with the funky hair.
Little ladies in the making.
* Dolly isn't her real name, but some people are more comfortable with talking me into being on the Internet, than with being briefly mentioned themselves. mmhmm.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
My roommate hates me and wants to make me fat(ter)
Yesterday afternoon I was at work, and I was HUNGRY. I had a lighter lunch than usual, and by the end of the day, all I could think about was what snack I could have when I got home. I mentally went through the contents in my kitchen, and concluded that my only choice was yogurt. Not particularly exciting, but not the least healthy choice, either. Yay. I want yogurt. This is what I keep telling myself. But in the back of my head, I’m wondering what I really want, and the only thing that comes into my head is the word “cookie”.
Well, as soon as I opened the door to my apartment, this sweet and wonderful aroma burst forth and enveloped me. I followed it, I followed it without thinking. I didn’t pause to put down anything I was carrying – I just let my nose lead me, and it led me straight to the kitchen. And this is what I saw:
My roommate had the nerve to make homemade, chocolate chip cookies – TONS of them – and them leave them, all warm and smelly, and most importantly, all alone in our house. I desperately needed a pair of eyes – any eyes would do – just one pair to keep me too ashamed from devouring all 500 cookies.
It was a miracle that so many of them survived the next several minutes.
And then today, I get home, and again I am greeted by a savory kitchen smell. This time it is this:
What is she trying to do to me??! She must be intimidated by my beauty.
Well, as soon as I opened the door to my apartment, this sweet and wonderful aroma burst forth and enveloped me. I followed it, I followed it without thinking. I didn’t pause to put down anything I was carrying – I just let my nose lead me, and it led me straight to the kitchen. And this is what I saw:
My roommate had the nerve to make homemade, chocolate chip cookies – TONS of them – and them leave them, all warm and smelly, and most importantly, all alone in our house. I desperately needed a pair of eyes – any eyes would do – just one pair to keep me too ashamed from devouring all 500 cookies.
It was a miracle that so many of them survived the next several minutes.
And then today, I get home, and again I am greeted by a savory kitchen smell. This time it is this:
What is she trying to do to me??! She must be intimidated by my beauty.
some people never learned how to talk good
A laboratory attracts a, um, different kind of work force. For some, it’s that they are much better with chemistry than they are with people, and then there are some that aren’t scientists, but are here for a low stress, straight forward job. And then of course there are some that are a combination.
So when I go out into the real world, and interact with a wider variety of people, it is quite refreshing. And if I were go to a nice department store on my lunch break, I wouldn’t expect to run into people like Bathroom Lady, who immediately size up and then comment on my faults (I’ve heard about my hips numerous times now). No, I give the other people of the world the benefit of the doubt and assume relative normalness.
So I wasn’t expecting to be subjected to this when I went to a make-up counter at the department store to replace one simple item:
Me: “hi, I’d like to get some foundation – the same thing as this.” (show empty container, feel proud of myself for knowing what I want, since I usually don’t pay attention to names.)
Tall, young, beautiful, make-up girl wearing a thick mask of make-up and looking slightly disconcerted: “…ok… Do you have any cover-up?”
Me: “Yes, I just need the foundation.”
TYBMUG: (looking a little more troubled) “all right…” and turns to get my item. She turns back and looks at me again, “Do you have our cover-up? Ours is the best.”
Me: “yeah, actually I do. …I’m just not wearing any right now….”
I’m starting to get a little embarrassed at this point, and am wondering what unsightly blemish(es) have emerged on my face since I last looked in the mirror.
TYBMUG: still trying to be a little diplomatic, “Which kind do you have? Is it the (fancy name)? Fancy name really works better at covering things up."
Me: “No, I have the liquid. I like it fine.”
TYBMUG: dropping all pretense now, “I mean, do you LIKE your freckles??”
Ah, and suddenly I know what she is saying. Since the moment she saw me, she felt deeply troubled that I was walking around in the middle of the day with all these freckles on my face. Cover-up is used for small spots – or so I thought – I never thought I would need to “cover-up” my entire face.
She next insisted on showing me how well it could work for me, and after applying to a very small patch of skin, got tired, and just pointed to the little area as an example.
The sad part is, I bought the stupid cover-up. I was so dumbfounded at my freckles being found so awful, that I let TYBMUG win.
I have never tried to put it all over my face, though. So take that, TYBMUG. You keep buying those expensive products, and looking all perfect with that inch of make-up on your face, and I will keep not following your advice and looking… uh… not perfect…
Is this kind of like when I tried to demonstrate my dislike of my high school Spanish teacher by doing poorly in his class? Yeah, I know how to show ‘em.
So when I go out into the real world, and interact with a wider variety of people, it is quite refreshing. And if I were go to a nice department store on my lunch break, I wouldn’t expect to run into people like Bathroom Lady, who immediately size up and then comment on my faults (I’ve heard about my hips numerous times now). No, I give the other people of the world the benefit of the doubt and assume relative normalness.
So I wasn’t expecting to be subjected to this when I went to a make-up counter at the department store to replace one simple item:
Me: “hi, I’d like to get some foundation – the same thing as this.” (show empty container, feel proud of myself for knowing what I want, since I usually don’t pay attention to names.)
Tall, young, beautiful, make-up girl wearing a thick mask of make-up and looking slightly disconcerted: “…ok… Do you have any cover-up?”
Me: “Yes, I just need the foundation.”
TYBMUG: (looking a little more troubled) “all right…” and turns to get my item. She turns back and looks at me again, “Do you have our cover-up? Ours is the best.”
Me: “yeah, actually I do. …I’m just not wearing any right now….”
I’m starting to get a little embarrassed at this point, and am wondering what unsightly blemish(es) have emerged on my face since I last looked in the mirror.
TYBMUG: still trying to be a little diplomatic, “Which kind do you have? Is it the (fancy name)? Fancy name really works better at covering things up."
Me: “No, I have the liquid. I like it fine.”
TYBMUG: dropping all pretense now, “I mean, do you LIKE your freckles??”
Ah, and suddenly I know what she is saying. Since the moment she saw me, she felt deeply troubled that I was walking around in the middle of the day with all these freckles on my face. Cover-up is used for small spots – or so I thought – I never thought I would need to “cover-up” my entire face.
She next insisted on showing me how well it could work for me, and after applying to a very small patch of skin, got tired, and just pointed to the little area as an example.
The sad part is, I bought the stupid cover-up. I was so dumbfounded at my freckles being found so awful, that I let TYBMUG win.
I have never tried to put it all over my face, though. So take that, TYBMUG. You keep buying those expensive products, and looking all perfect with that inch of make-up on your face, and I will keep not following your advice and looking… uh… not perfect…
Is this kind of like when I tried to demonstrate my dislike of my high school Spanish teacher by doing poorly in his class? Yeah, I know how to show ‘em.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Return of Bathroom Lady
Some of you may remember "Bathroom Lady" - a woman that works here at the lab, and that I found hanging out in the bathroom every time I went in there during my first 2 years here. She liked to say things like, "you don't have a stomach - but you sure have some hips." Or, "you married?" no. "you got kids?" no. "How old are you? 21?" 27. "What?! And you ain't got no kids?! Girl, what're you waiting for??!!" And she always asked how my mother was. And no, she doesn't know my mother. And I never knew her name - that's why she is Bathroom Lady.
Well, I just had a marathon session with her - in the bathroom, of course.
Here's how it went down:
(The scene: lab bathroom, me washing hands at one sink, BL playing with her hair and glancing at me from the other end of the mirror)
BL: You losing weight.
me: No.
BL: You look like you are. Here's how I think of you: you wide. (here she holds out her hands beyond her hips - which are not so narrow themselves), but you little. You know who you built like? You probably don't know her. Have you ever heard of Beyonce?
me: yes...
BL: She's wide but she's little.
me: But she has a chest to balance it out.
BL: (hysterical laughter of agreement)
Then she asked how my mother was. Then she asked how my brother was (she didn’t know I had a brother). I told her he was well, in grad school and engaged.
BL: "He getting married??!" "And it's just you and him, right?"
me: "No, I have a sister, she's married and has a one-year-old."
BL: "She's married? You younger?"
me: "No, I'm the oldest."
BL: (looking at me with pity) "And now it's just you then... You found anyone you like?"
me: "no... i broke up with my boyfriend of last year a little while ago and I'm very single now." (she used to ask me this question all the time, and then make me count back the months/years till my last relationship. i was hoping to avoid that with this. as you are about to see, that was a bad decision.)
BL: "Why'd you break up with him?!"
me: "well, he broke up with me."
BL: "Why?"
and then I gave a short "he just changed his mind" or something like that answer, and then she was asking me how that made me feel, blah, blah, and then she said,
"You know what you have to do, don't you? you need to run right out and find somebody else!" and before I could answer, she told me this looong story about herself and a certain gentleman.
They loved each other, they were talking about marriage, and they were waiting to sleep together, because that's what Jesus would want, and this was really hard for her, because it had been 2 months and she hadn't slept with him.
BL: "And then something happened. And we slept together. And as soon as it was over he started carrying on and on about 'oh no, what have I done?!' - like he was the woman! And then the next morning he didn't call me, and we were prayer partners - so I knew something was wrong. And I told him, "please, we can make this work", etc, and he said he just didn't feel the same way about me no more. He didn't think of me the same way.
And you know what I did? And I think God is telling me to tell you this... I know it sounds slutty, but I went out and slept with somebody else. And that way, I dumped out my stuff on him (new man) - and I know that isn't right - but men do it all the time. And I knew that I didn't care about him - I met him at the grocery store - but that way I had made the decision, and I was in control. And then I could see him - cause we had gatherings with friends where I was going to see him - and then I didn't care any more - because he didn't care. And I could talk to him all day long, I just didn't want him touching me. He tried to shake my hand but I couldn’t have him touching me. And he got kind of angry, cuz he wanted me to give him back some of his stuff he left at my house, and I wasn't going to do it... “
and this goes on, fast forward to her telling me, "So you need to get out and sleep with somebody."
me: "uh... yeah.... I haven't really been interested in anybody."
BL: "You know why that is? You doing it to yourself. You know what I'm saying? You're doing it to yourself. Cause you're not making yourself as pretty as you need to be making yourself. You're not putting on that extra lipstick that you *need* to be putting on. And you're not wearing that extra eyeshadow that you *need* to be wearing. (and here she's raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips, like "you know what I'm talking about.") And you not wearing those earrings that dangle all the way down to your chest."
And then we walk out of the bathroom, and are in the hall, where other people are around, and as I'm walking away she's calling after me,
"The earrings. All the way to the chest. You need to get them out. And show cleavage! Go out and buy something if you have to! And don't be wearing it all up here. Unzip it!! Show CLEAVAGE!"
So, there you have it. God has spoken to me through my coworker, and the message is: get thee to a grocery store, and jump yourself a man.
Well, I just had a marathon session with her - in the bathroom, of course.
Here's how it went down:
(The scene: lab bathroom, me washing hands at one sink, BL playing with her hair and glancing at me from the other end of the mirror)
BL: You losing weight.
me: No.
BL: You look like you are. Here's how I think of you: you wide. (here she holds out her hands beyond her hips - which are not so narrow themselves), but you little. You know who you built like? You probably don't know her. Have you ever heard of Beyonce?
me: yes...
BL: She's wide but she's little.
me: But she has a chest to balance it out.
BL: (hysterical laughter of agreement)
Then she asked how my mother was. Then she asked how my brother was (she didn’t know I had a brother). I told her he was well, in grad school and engaged.
BL: "He getting married??!" "And it's just you and him, right?"
me: "No, I have a sister, she's married and has a one-year-old."
BL: "She's married? You younger?"
me: "No, I'm the oldest."
BL: (looking at me with pity) "And now it's just you then... You found anyone you like?"
me: "no... i broke up with my boyfriend of last year a little while ago and I'm very single now." (she used to ask me this question all the time, and then make me count back the months/years till my last relationship. i was hoping to avoid that with this. as you are about to see, that was a bad decision.)
BL: "Why'd you break up with him?!"
me: "well, he broke up with me."
BL: "Why?"
and then I gave a short "he just changed his mind" or something like that answer, and then she was asking me how that made me feel, blah, blah, and then she said,
"You know what you have to do, don't you? you need to run right out and find somebody else!" and before I could answer, she told me this looong story about herself and a certain gentleman.
They loved each other, they were talking about marriage, and they were waiting to sleep together, because that's what Jesus would want, and this was really hard for her, because it had been 2 months and she hadn't slept with him.
BL: "And then something happened. And we slept together. And as soon as it was over he started carrying on and on about 'oh no, what have I done?!' - like he was the woman! And then the next morning he didn't call me, and we were prayer partners - so I knew something was wrong. And I told him, "please, we can make this work", etc, and he said he just didn't feel the same way about me no more. He didn't think of me the same way.
And you know what I did? And I think God is telling me to tell you this... I know it sounds slutty, but I went out and slept with somebody else. And that way, I dumped out my stuff on him (new man) - and I know that isn't right - but men do it all the time. And I knew that I didn't care about him - I met him at the grocery store - but that way I had made the decision, and I was in control. And then I could see him - cause we had gatherings with friends where I was going to see him - and then I didn't care any more - because he didn't care. And I could talk to him all day long, I just didn't want him touching me. He tried to shake my hand but I couldn’t have him touching me. And he got kind of angry, cuz he wanted me to give him back some of his stuff he left at my house, and I wasn't going to do it... “
and this goes on, fast forward to her telling me, "So you need to get out and sleep with somebody."
me: "uh... yeah.... I haven't really been interested in anybody."
BL: "You know why that is? You doing it to yourself. You know what I'm saying? You're doing it to yourself. Cause you're not making yourself as pretty as you need to be making yourself. You're not putting on that extra lipstick that you *need* to be putting on. And you're not wearing that extra eyeshadow that you *need* to be wearing. (and here she's raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips, like "you know what I'm talking about.") And you not wearing those earrings that dangle all the way down to your chest."
And then we walk out of the bathroom, and are in the hall, where other people are around, and as I'm walking away she's calling after me,
"The earrings. All the way to the chest. You need to get them out. And show cleavage! Go out and buy something if you have to! And don't be wearing it all up here. Unzip it!! Show CLEAVAGE!"
So, there you have it. God has spoken to me through my coworker, and the message is: get thee to a grocery store, and jump yourself a man.
experiment in blogging
I have been peer pressured into starting a blog - I suspect that friends are tired of me filling their inboxes. I'm not sure what this is going to be about, except for a vague idea of a place to air my embarrassing stories. I'm still not sure I want to put all of my humiliation out there for just anyone to find, and I'm not sure how often I'll get around to updating. So for now, I'm just going to think of this as an experiment. An experiment that begins by copying my brother's book and movie updates.
If you are a friend who asked me to do this (you know who you are), I expect some communication through this. Please, help me get through the average work day.
If you are a friend who asked me to do this (you know who you are), I expect some communication through this. Please, help me get through the average work day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)