If for no other reason, you should read this post because one of my sixteen-year-old buds gets completely owned by an old German lady at McDonald's. Talk about the tensions and mysteries of humanity...
This should be preceded by saying that Luke, the sixteen-year-old, is completely kind and chivalrous. I appreciate Luke; what makes this story so ironic and funny is that the one time he slipped up, Fate was there to give him a vigorous noogie.
Once upon a time, Luke decided to spend 72 hours awake for the fun of it and the elite glory of being able to claim he had done so. At the time this story occurred, he had been awake for 32 of his allotted hours. In brief, he was exhausted. He, his brother (my Levi!), myself, and another young gentleman that was to join him on his somnolent journey congregated at McDonald's for a short quiescence. There was general fun at McDonald's. Then we decided to go to the library. (Fun fun fun!)
This is where the tense complications take place: We're headed out the door. If I remember all this correctly, I walk out, Luke and his friend come out next, followed by an elderly German lady wearing a track suit, while Levi holds the door open for us all (win!)
The woman stops Luke and the other young man in their tracks and gives them a pretty epic speech that goes something like this, just to cover the high parts:
"To be a gentleman means to be gentle to all men, women, and respect the elderly. When there is a woman coming through the door, you do not walk in front of her. You hold open the door for her and let her go first as he did"--(gestures to Levi. Double win, dude.)
The speech went a little longer and Luke stared at German track suit lady numbly with bloodshot eyes. He listened very attentively, respectfully and also looked a little frightened, and, needless to say, I was about to lose it. Levi and I made an escape towards the car as the German accent faded out of earshot.
So, to review the scores:
Me--Neutral
Luke's Friend--Fail
Levi--Win
Luke--Epic Fail
Grandma--Epic Win
Friday, August 27, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Special Days
There are some events in a young girl's life that they never forget--and leave them changed forever.
For instance, the time about three years ago when all the people on our dirt road decided to get together for a "block party." What this meant was that, since our house was located on this road, we were qualified to attend a gathering of lonely, socially deprived people, sitting in lawn chairs, holding styrofoam plates of food, staring at each other with hungry eyes. I'm what you would call an introverted person. I was dragged to aforementioned party whimpering just moments after my teddy bear was ripped from my fingers. A flogging or a bath in warm acid would have been preferable for me. We drove a few miles down the road to the destination of our party. I watched the billows of dust rise into the air behind our car and hoped that my dread was unfounded.
All I'm gonna say is that I hate it when I'm right.
A few minutes into our visit, I met a very sweet and ambitious elderly lady who determined after our brief exchange that I was her grandson's soul mate. We spoke for several minutes about how ravenously wonderful and attractive her grandson was, as well as how compatible I would be with said Prince Charming (the fact that I owned an ATV sealed his heart).
P. Charming showed up about an hour later. How can I describe him?
About 5'8. Oily. Relatively overweight. Oozing with bad attitude.
We were introduced and Mr. Charming looked at me as though he would enjoy seeing lightning bolts strike me in the face. Apparently this was not the first time Grandma had played matchmaker for him and he didn't like the look of me or my face. He took one look at me and found something else to do. I praised God as he escaped me, to the chagrin of his grandmother.
The funniest part of this story is when Grandma tracked him down and spoke to him very forcefully and aggressively. It was undoubtedly about me because immediately afterwards he gave me a withering death glare and returned to his friends.
My evening culminated in a vigorous game of "Gotcha" with the golden retriever chained up in the backyard.
Of course, there are other memorable days in a young girl's life. Like the time when I learned that my brother and I had been using the same toothbrush for some weeks without either of us realizing it.
When your routines never cross, bad things can happen.
Bring it on, life.
For instance, the time about three years ago when all the people on our dirt road decided to get together for a "block party." What this meant was that, since our house was located on this road, we were qualified to attend a gathering of lonely, socially deprived people, sitting in lawn chairs, holding styrofoam plates of food, staring at each other with hungry eyes. I'm what you would call an introverted person. I was dragged to aforementioned party whimpering just moments after my teddy bear was ripped from my fingers. A flogging or a bath in warm acid would have been preferable for me. We drove a few miles down the road to the destination of our party. I watched the billows of dust rise into the air behind our car and hoped that my dread was unfounded.
All I'm gonna say is that I hate it when I'm right.
A few minutes into our visit, I met a very sweet and ambitious elderly lady who determined after our brief exchange that I was her grandson's soul mate. We spoke for several minutes about how ravenously wonderful and attractive her grandson was, as well as how compatible I would be with said Prince Charming (the fact that I owned an ATV sealed his heart).
P. Charming showed up about an hour later. How can I describe him?
About 5'8. Oily. Relatively overweight. Oozing with bad attitude.
We were introduced and Mr. Charming looked at me as though he would enjoy seeing lightning bolts strike me in the face. Apparently this was not the first time Grandma had played matchmaker for him and he didn't like the look of me or my face. He took one look at me and found something else to do. I praised God as he escaped me, to the chagrin of his grandmother.
The funniest part of this story is when Grandma tracked him down and spoke to him very forcefully and aggressively. It was undoubtedly about me because immediately afterwards he gave me a withering death glare and returned to his friends.
My evening culminated in a vigorous game of "Gotcha" with the golden retriever chained up in the backyard.
Of course, there are other memorable days in a young girl's life. Like the time when I learned that my brother and I had been using the same toothbrush for some weeks without either of us realizing it.
When your routines never cross, bad things can happen.
Bring it on, life.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
My Friends!
Dear Books,
I enjoyed my visit with you today tremendously. And to see all of you again at the bookstore--so many in one place! I had forgotten how much I feel myself when I am in your refreshing and comforting presence. Forgive me for neglecting our friendship for so long. I have missed to smell your pages, touch your illustrations, giggle and sigh with your turning moods. It is amazing and touching to me to see your authors' gem of creativity--the different ideas, as different as their personalities!--finally crowned on the shelf for me, and all other readers, to enjoy.
Nothing shall replace you!
Emily
I enjoyed my visit with you today tremendously. And to see all of you again at the bookstore--so many in one place! I had forgotten how much I feel myself when I am in your refreshing and comforting presence. Forgive me for neglecting our friendship for so long. I have missed to smell your pages, touch your illustrations, giggle and sigh with your turning moods. It is amazing and touching to me to see your authors' gem of creativity--the different ideas, as different as their personalities!--finally crowned on the shelf for me, and all other readers, to enjoy.
Nothing shall replace you!
Emily
Saturday, July 10, 2010
The Zen Power of the Wide-Angle Lens
Today, my dear Levi and I had this intelligent and enlightening conversation at a Quizno's as we discussed our meal options.
LEVI: Hey! Instead of getting two sandwiches, do you want to just get one big one?
ME: Oh! Sure.
LEVI: Ooh! (pointing to photograph of large, delectable sandwich) That looks really good.
ME: (noticing how wide and long aforementioned sandwich is as it scales boldly out of its wrapper, dreaming of pleasant toasty fullness) Yeah. Ok, let's get that one.
LEVI: (to Quizno's employee) Ok, we're gonna get a Torpedo.
QUIZNO'S EMPLOYEE: Which one?
LEVI: Uhh, an Italian, please.
(Quizno's employee gently and unassumingly extracts a piece of bread that would be frightened of a hot dog bun and begins to put the ingredients of an Italian sandwich on it).
ME'S THOUGHTS: Oh my gosh! That cute little thing wants to be a sandwich when it grows up! We have been deceived!!
(Levi and Emily share a stricken glance)
LEVI: Um, do you want to get two?
ME: Um...yeah. Oh yeah.
LEVI: Hey! Instead of getting two sandwiches, do you want to just get one big one?
ME: Oh! Sure.
LEVI: Ooh! (pointing to photograph of large, delectable sandwich) That looks really good.
ME: (noticing how wide and long aforementioned sandwich is as it scales boldly out of its wrapper, dreaming of pleasant toasty fullness) Yeah. Ok, let's get that one.
LEVI: (to Quizno's employee) Ok, we're gonna get a Torpedo.
QUIZNO'S EMPLOYEE: Which one?
LEVI: Uhh, an Italian, please.
(Quizno's employee gently and unassumingly extracts a piece of bread that would be frightened of a hot dog bun and begins to put the ingredients of an Italian sandwich on it).
ME'S THOUGHTS: Oh my gosh! That cute little thing wants to be a sandwich when it grows up! We have been deceived!!
(Levi and Emily share a stricken glance)
LEVI: Um, do you want to get two?
ME: Um...yeah. Oh yeah.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Extraordinary?
Idealists always fall--with quite a similar stricken cry as the visionary when their eyes get plucked out.
But that's okay.
But that's okay.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
We have an above-ground pool at my house that came with the purchase of the residence those years ago. When I was a young and impetuous child, I assumed that I would love to have a pool, and to avoid my readers writing me off as a bratty, overfed, underworked, conceited American, I admit that 80.5 % does love that pool. But consider for me what happened to an enchanted princess in an enchanted land one enchanted yesterday...
Our pool contains a removable set of plastic steps; hollow so that they can hold two sand bags about as heavy as sin. I imagine that sin is also covered with an inch of algae, so that's something else they have in common. Every autumn, these steps and the sand bags attract leaves and algae, according to the laws of the universe that state that nothing enjoyable will ever come easy, and accumulate about an even inch of scum on every square millimeter of its surface. Even when the pool is covered I can guarantee that the steps will be unrecognizable by the time April comes around.
It is therefore the task of we, the pool owners, to extract the steps from the pool. This may strike you as relatively simple, and it probably should be, but certain authority figures over me determined that it would be better to keep the 70-pound sand bags in their place (to keep them from feeling any nervousness or discomfort, of course.)
Yesterday afternoon I set my determination upon cleaning these steps, since I am the right size to climb inside the steps and have acquired the proper agility and disregard for my health to do so. I was armed with nothing more than a scrub brush and a real bad attitude, which science has proven scares the pants off most microscopic animals. In an effort to dress appropriate to my task, I was wearing a fashionable pink sundress.
I worked on the outside of the steps for about an hour and found that a maniacal sawing motion yielded the greatest results. As I set about scrubbing the inner portions of the plastic, I avoided thinking about many things, such as how accurately I was beginning to resemble a child's rendering of a dinosaur (that is, pink with green polka dots. Lots of green polka dots.)
I also avoided thinking about the illustrations of bacteria I had seen in Biology 207, which at that moment were most likely having a nice tea and chat underneath my fingernails.
Similarly, it never crossed my mind that the thing alternatively smelled like a river and an outhouse.
I was rewarded in the end by seeing the textured white underneath begin to shine through. And I don't think I've ever been more grateful for a shower.
Our pool contains a removable set of plastic steps; hollow so that they can hold two sand bags about as heavy as sin. I imagine that sin is also covered with an inch of algae, so that's something else they have in common. Every autumn, these steps and the sand bags attract leaves and algae, according to the laws of the universe that state that nothing enjoyable will ever come easy, and accumulate about an even inch of scum on every square millimeter of its surface. Even when the pool is covered I can guarantee that the steps will be unrecognizable by the time April comes around.
It is therefore the task of we, the pool owners, to extract the steps from the pool. This may strike you as relatively simple, and it probably should be, but certain authority figures over me determined that it would be better to keep the 70-pound sand bags in their place (to keep them from feeling any nervousness or discomfort, of course.)
Yesterday afternoon I set my determination upon cleaning these steps, since I am the right size to climb inside the steps and have acquired the proper agility and disregard for my health to do so. I was armed with nothing more than a scrub brush and a real bad attitude, which science has proven scares the pants off most microscopic animals. In an effort to dress appropriate to my task, I was wearing a fashionable pink sundress.
I worked on the outside of the steps for about an hour and found that a maniacal sawing motion yielded the greatest results. As I set about scrubbing the inner portions of the plastic, I avoided thinking about many things, such as how accurately I was beginning to resemble a child's rendering of a dinosaur (that is, pink with green polka dots. Lots of green polka dots.)
I also avoided thinking about the illustrations of bacteria I had seen in Biology 207, which at that moment were most likely having a nice tea and chat underneath my fingernails.
Similarly, it never crossed my mind that the thing alternatively smelled like a river and an outhouse.
I was rewarded in the end by seeing the textured white underneath begin to shine through. And I don't think I've ever been more grateful for a shower.
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