Overheard at Work, vol. IV

"I like that wintertime look you've got going. You could be an author in a book."--a teen to one of my colleagues who has grown a full beard.

"I won't yuck your yum."--my new philosophy, courtesy of a 10-year-old girl, determined not to offend my colleague, after she was offered dried cranberries to try but didn't like them.

"We're going to get together and share our core areas...that sounds dirty."--me, describing a Thai food lunch date I had with the Athletics Director. His core area is athletics. Get it?

"Why is Mariah Carey on your desk?"--me,again. She wasn't really. It was just her perfume and lotion set.

"Having intercourse."--a 10-year-old girl's answer to my question "What are you doing?" during the game of the same name, in which the first person starts miming an action, the second enters the space and asks the first "What are you doing?" and has to begin miming the action that is stated. I didn't oblige.

"You remind me of my grandfather."--my supervisor to a colleague, after he insisted she check the weather again.

"She really needs it because you can really tell when she's acting."--a 11-year-old's statement about why her friend should attend drama.

"My socks matter."--same 11-year-old, stating what she tells her mom when her clothes get picked out.

"I call him Picky-picky. His name's really Tom."--a girl talking to me about her cat. (This one's for Chuckee D.)

It Made Sense at the Time

I'm a light sleeper.

If I don't have a fan or sound soother on, I usually sleep with ear plugs in. I use the large soft silicone ones that people use for swimming.

They sometimes make my ears itchy and sweaty, but they block out ambient noise (like roommates caterwauling in the kitchen or the sounds of shoveling outside my window or traffic on the corner).

When I wasn't working, I fell into the habit of making myself go to sleep finally by 2 AM.

Sometimes, I wasn't tired then but told myself that 2 AM is super late and that it was civilized of me to go to sleep then.

I'd usually sleep to about 9 AM, wake up because I felt like I had to, and be tired all day, until late at night again.

Now that I'm on a regular work/sleep schedule, I wake up around 8:30 every day and go to sleep between 10:30 and midnight every night.

This has reactivated my dream life, like WHOA.

I am having SUPER weird, vivid dreams and they seem to last all night long.

Last night, I had a very clear dream about eating rice pilaf.

You know how rice pilaf kind of sticks to the pan and clumps up?

I woke up, scratching my ear, with my ear plug in my mouth, convinced it was food.

Once I was slightly more awake, the whole thing cracked me up, until I stuffed the plug back in my ear and totally passed out again.

According to online dream dictionaries, dreaming about rice is supposed to indicate prosperity.

Nothing on rice pilaf, specifically.

Prosperity and pine nuts?

Probably, I was just hungry.

Somebody Explain to Me Why This Made Me Cry

I think it was the dogs and the baby taking the stairs that did it.

Overheard at Work, vol. III

Another weird week because Boston is having the shittiest weather ever.

The kids had a snow day today, plus we had Monday off. Still, I'm getting paid to watch The Wizard of Oz synched up with Dark Side of the Moon, so I can't complain.

"Brown on brown."--my colleague's mildly inappropriate response to people's compliments on his lovely brown shirt. Yes, he is dark-skinned Haitian Creole (is there a more PC way of saying that?)

"OK, which is better? Cranberry + raisin = Craisin OR raisin + cranberry = RANBERRY!??!"--a kid, musing on the daily snack.

Kid: Is there DESIGN SQUAD today?!
Me: Design Squad?
Kid: Yeah!
Me: You mean, Drama Club?
Kid: Whatever. Yeah.

"I am so in love with...Emilio Estevez!"--a tween, on her recent crush. The art teacher and I were very surprised. Turns out, her mom has introduced her to the movie The Outsiders.

"Food fight!!!!"--lateral lisp kid, after dropping a huge box of erasers, and sending them flying.

Me: Can you take those cups to the sink and pour the water out?
Kid (the one who is obsessed with ribs): Don't be lazy!
(He also calls the art teacher "hobo." I find it rude.)

"When I'm home, I'm bored. I just watch TV and my eyes burn."--a young lady, basically commenting on why we all do our jobs.

Published.

This post will be published in the upcoming Community Issue of the Printed Blog.

I have just been sent the draft for the issue, and it is GORGEOUS!

Keep clicking that badge to your right, and support/subscribe/like on Facebook/tweet, etc., The Printed Blog.

Their goal is 3,000 subscribers, so if you've scrounged any change from between your couch cushions, this seems like a great place to send it!

Texts With My Brother, the Wordplay Edition (what other kind would there be?)

C: Conan wants to get the word THRICE into the OED. I think we should help.

Me: Duhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I often use it in regards to defecation. As in, "I've pooped thrice today."

C: I've been to jail thrice. I don't want to go back.

Me: She's once, twice, thrice...a lady.

C: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice, shame on you again. Don't call me no more.

Me: Excuse me, I've already warned you thrice. Go to the principal's office now.

C: Once bitten, twice shy, thrice less shy.

Me: Knock thrice on the ceiling if you want me! Twice on the pipes, if the answer is nooooooo!

C: Honestly, it was an honor just to be nominated...thrice.

Me: Lefty loosey, righty thricey.

C: If I've told you thrice, I've told you thrice-thousand times.

Me: If at first you don't succeed, try thrice.

C: You're thrice the woman I'll ever be.

Me: The tacos come with thrice and beans.

C: No, ANNIE!

Me: IWINNNNNNNNN!

C: Fine. You're thrice as good at this as me.

Overheard at Work, vol. II

Week 2 is IN THE BAG!

This was a weird week because Boston Public Schools were closed for TWO days--we had a huge storm on Wednesday--and so we had our own snow day and then were open all day on Thursday, with no structured time.

I ran a few theatre demos to get the kids interested/inquiring/excited about the developing theatre program. Tuesday, I had nine kids show up. Today, just one. But that's OK. It's only the second week.

Kid (with a lateral lisp): I hate haircuts.
Me: Why?
Kid: Maybe your mom accidentally shaved your head.

"That's his Go Phone. It's the kind of phone where you can only call 911 and your mom."--one of the music students making fun of the music teacher's non-Smart Phone.

This was the same day that the music students were working on some theory and the music teacher was demanding that they do it "in time." When I said it sounded pretty good to me, the kids said "She says it's in time, and she's your boss" to the music teacher.

I walked in the art room and saw that one of the girls had bogarted the glitter and was making "grog." The concoction was a clear brown color, with clumps of glitter floating at the top. I asked her what was in her grog, and without hesitation, she rattled off, "Glitter, barf, poison, spaghetti." I almost peed my pants laughing.

"That's gonna cause a lot of injury. Especially among myself."--one of my bosses, hurling herself over the new hurtles bought for the fitness program.

Kid: They got Turbo Yahtzee?! (examining the game on my desk) How you gonna make Yahtzee more turbo? That looks mad gangsta!...I got the original.
Me: With the little cup?
Kid: Yeah, I didn't know what to do with it. So I use it to put my cologne in.

"It's The Wiz, made illustrated by Michael Jackson."--a girl explaining the play she was in at school.

"Can you turn the lights off now? My molecules hurt!"--a girl playing Rock Band. We figured out she meant "pupils."

The odd kid singing, "Jingle ribs, jingle ribs. Jingle all the ribs!" He also called me "Boss Lady" last week.

(Can you tell I love my job?)

One Thousand Four-Hundred and Sixty Days Ago...

After I graduated from college, I filled the miserable hours during that first summer back in New York with writing. I continued this writing for about a year and a half, and I started talking about it.

I remember telling a good friend about the things I had written when I visited her over the holidays at the end of 2006. We were sitting at a restaurant on Shattuck Avenue or somewhere thereabouts and she suggested I start a blog.

I went home and wrote my first entry on January 10, 2007. I spent that year chronicling my “thoughts of the moment,” stories of my commutes to and from the work I hated, being back in my hometown, grasping at any creative outlet I could reach, and ended up racking up nearly 200 posts that first year (still the most I've ever written).

Four years later (which I realized tonight is as long as a person spends at a university!), this is what it’s become.

A place where I write desperately about my attempts at dating.

Where I share successes and failures in school and work.

Where I write about food. A lot.

Or Taylor Lautner. And the other guys I’m a little ashamed to admit I think are hot.

It has become something I am very proud of, something that continues to evolve, something that keeps me grounded and sane.

And I want to thank all of you for your continued interest, support, and comments.

And, thanks, Mel. For the great idea.

I owe you one.

Overheard at Work, vol. I

I survived my first week of work! Yay for me!

It's pretty great.

I haven't quite figured out how to eat during the day in a way that keeps me from coming home around 8 PM and feeling like sticking my head in the refrigerator and eating everything in sight.

And yet, I feel like I eat all day long. My hours are 11 AM to 7 PM, with about a 50 minute commute, so I eat a good breakfast, snack when I get to work, eat lunch around 2 PM, snack around 4 PM, and then come home starving.

Ahem.

Anyway, obviously being around kids all day and the equally hilarious staff I work with has provided some great comic relief, and, lucky you, I'm sharing it with all of you!

So, welcome to another incarnation of "Overheard."

"Who's your favorite singer? I know mine. Me!"--I'm glad this 11-year-old has so much confidence. May she never lose it.

"I do like a tight jean."--My supervisor, as we discussed the appropriate staff dress code.

The pre-teens I sat with one day used the word "ninja" instead of the n-word, referring to their friends, and called kissing "french fries." Kids are weird.

Kid: Can you please tell me why hiccups are mysterious?
Me: Do you know what causes hiccups?
Kid: No.
Me: That's why they're mysterious!
--an exchange during a Girls' Game of Apples to Apples

"My godbrother is 21. He wears his jeans all the way down to here, so we can still call him a teenager."--one of the girls I bonded with while observing the art class. Speaking truths.

"I don't have ribs. Boys don't."--this came out of the mouth of one of the oddest kids I've ever met. His answer to everything is "Ribs." From 6-7 every day, he makes paper airplanes in art and throws them around. He calls people "jerk" without knowing what it means, and he screams out, "Girls, do some squats" at random and inopportune times.

"And now we have a spicy, new neighbor."--the bookkeeper, referring to me, as he left for the week. He probably called me spicy because about three minutes after I met him I told him he had a fantastic head of hair.

"I did buy some really cute lingerie, so when we learn how to cut each other out of our clothes..."--a staff member, as she prepared for Wilderness Training, which is required for her to run the Girls' Summer Camp.

"I've got metaphors for days."--a teenaged boy, urging a staff member to help him with a rap he was writing.

If this is any indication, this year is going to be weird.

My friend, KL, has been in town since Wednesday, to celebrate the new year and to do important things like hat- and boot-shopping, and lots of cooking and eating.

After staying up for New Year's until about 4 AM and watching When Harry Met Sally on lots of wine and champagne, we had a very lazy day yesterday, the first of the year.

We stayed in our pajamas all day, ate at weird hours, and KL cooked a large meal for the house, which we consumed over about three hours.

By the time we were lolling about at the end of the day, it was already very late.

But she and I ended up playing an hours-long game of "Marry, Bury, Screw," where each player identifies three people (that you know or that you know of) and the players have to decide who they would marry, bury, and screw among them.

KL and I played a version where we were presenting three people to the other person, sort of as a challenge.

We had benign combinations (Martha Stewart, Oprah Winfrey, Michelle Obama) and mean ones (George W. Bush, George Bush, Barbara Bush). Totally silly ones (Nemo, Woody, Shrek) and totally sick ones (your sister, your father, your mother).

By almost 2 AM, we were throwing out totally stream-of-consciousness trios.

and

And another,

and

Finally, KL said, "Telephone pole, water bucket, stairs."

Without another thought, I said, "It's time for bed.

But I'd totally marry stairs."

*No disrespect intended to either Brian Dennehy or Jane Goodall.