On the phone, I give my dad my new email address, which ends in cgu.edu. My dad says it reminds him of what a bird would say to a worm. "If I C-G-U, I will E-D-U." I must be in a good mood, because I laugh. I can't believe I get my sense of humor from him.
Suddenly in need of duplicating services, I travel to [insert corporate name here] copy center. The old woman in front of me is so frustrated by the machine that she starts crying. "Technology," she mutters, turning to me. I offer assistance, which makes her smile while wiping away tears, and I try to figure out how to get the copier working. I may be young, but I couldn't figure it out either, and as I pressed the wrong button, the old woman angrily, yet still teary, tells me I'm doing the wrong thing. Great, I think. If she thinks she knows how to do this better than me, she's more than welcome not to take my help. Who fucking cries at a copy store?
On my way home, I drive by a thrift store I have never stopped at before. Immediately, I make a u-turn and run into the store. A sign on the first rack I encounter declares "1/2 Off All Coloreds." Though I can infer that this statement is in reference to non-white t-shirts, it's certainly a poor word choice, particularly for a store in a town with a dominant minority population yet only Caucasian employees.
I skip the coloreds section and find a Scrabble board. I stand at the register, but I'm stuck behind another old woman. She's not crying, but after paying for her new used mug, she chats up the employee about the weather, the condition of her living room couch, and her belief in the Christian causes that this thrift store's proceeds go toward. Five minutes later, I'm prepared to make this woman cry. Shut up! Finally, it's my turn to pay. The employee thanks me and reminds me the cash will go toward Christian service projects. I do my best to contain my excitement. Holding the Scrabble board, ey tells me, "I hope you get the good word!" I crack a genuine smile: that might be the best religious pun I have ever heard.
Afterwards, I stop at Wendy's for a double burger. In front of me in line, a woman and teenager daughter argue about whether she can date. "You know the rule," the mom says. "You're not allowed to date until we find mommy a boyfriend first." An argument about whether this rule is fair occurs for the following two minutes, meaning the mother is actually serious about this matter.
All of this happens in a span of two hours. How much do you wish you were me?
2006-08-16
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