![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Overheard and overseen
Mostly just because I'm lonesome and want some company.
The White Sheep: She totally brought me into her voodoo crazy-lady world!
The White Sheep: This place is like a soap opera. The Old and the Senseless.
Me: It's a cruel world.
Kidlet: Which one?
Things you never expect to hear come out of your mouth: "Of course not. No one means for Harry Potter to wind up in the toilet."
The White Sheep: That was the year I graduated from high school.
Me: Really? Then you're ... hm ... fourteen years younger than I am.
The White Sheep: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm really mature, though!
George Clooney: Really, who wants seventy virgins? I want eight pros.
At the coffee shop: Gas is a dollar eighty-six! We need to, like, start saving milk jugs.
At the coffee shop: I'm just really intense. I feel Italian sometimes.
The Head Monkey: He lost a ball in the sun at the opening kickoff and he ain't see it since.
(Background: Pastor Fixit has a magazine with a photo of a scantily-clad woman wearing a car as a necklace.)
The Head Monkey: You gonna get a necklace like that if you buy that car?
Pastor Fixit: No way.
The Head Monkey: Well, sometimes you want to look like a lady and not like a pastor.
Pastor Fixit (coldly): That is no lady.
Spouse: I have some papers that I need to keep safe. Where could I put them?
Me: Safe? Safe from what?
Spouse: From getting lost. From having things spilled on them. They're my parents' financial information.
Me: Oh. You want to put them in a file. There's a folder with your name on it in the file box that's on the desk in the computer room.
Spouse (shouting from upstairs): I can't open this; I don't know the code.
Me: What code? It's a cardboard box ... oh, wait, no, you've found my lockbox, which is on my dresser. The file box is on the desk.
Spouse: OK.
... time passes ...
Spouse: I'm sorry. I just can't see anything like that on your dresser.
Me: Desk. it's on the desk.
Spouse: But what is it?
Me: A great. Big. Box. Full of file folders. On the desk.
Spouse: I think it's time for me to go to bed.
Kidlet: Can I go outside and shake my skirts at the oncoming night?
Florist neighbor: Another day in the petal factory.
Ptom: My brother can be rigid and unforgiving.
Me: I've never seen that in him.
Ptom: You've never borrowed his baseball glove without permission.
Kidlet (reading OotP in the back seat): "Here it says that if you have a cold, you can't do a spell. Like you say 'Stupefy,' but it doesn't work because it comes out 'Stubefy.'"
Me: "If that's true, then Viktor Krum shouldn't be able to do magic at all, because his accent is so heavy."
Kidlet, after a brief pause for thought: "Maybe he's only using spells that were created in his native language."
-----
Pastor Fixit left at the end of April; we're pastorless right now, which is ... peaceful, actually. The spouse is on the governing board; the Head Monkey is on one of his committees; we and the White Sheep are carrying out a quiet coup in which we, like, communicate with people and plan things and stuff.
And, to add to the cast of characters, introducing the Head Monkey: Custodian and general fixing-things guy. Absolutely, totally, fiercely loyal to everybody within what he defines as his tribe; absolutely, totally, fiercely hostile to everybody outside it. Really, really extroverted; when he gets lonesome at his job, he comes and sits at my desk and chats with me, sometimes for an hour at a time. Wide variety of colorful language, much of it cringeworthily bigoted, and yet is so friendly and affectionate that it's hard not to like him just the same.
His wife of forty years once put a note in his lunch that said, "I love you" -- he read it when he came in, and at lunchtime he took it out and read it again and beamed.
Once I watched a woman (a teen mother who uses our day-care center) go from outside the tribe to inside it in one conversation: from "Them people don't take care of their cars anyway" to "I can't have my young ladies out in the parking lot in the dark with a flat tire."
The White Sheep: She totally brought me into her voodoo crazy-lady world!
The White Sheep: This place is like a soap opera. The Old and the Senseless.
Me: It's a cruel world.
Kidlet: Which one?
Things you never expect to hear come out of your mouth: "Of course not. No one means for Harry Potter to wind up in the toilet."
The White Sheep: That was the year I graduated from high school.
Me: Really? Then you're ... hm ... fourteen years younger than I am.
The White Sheep: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm really mature, though!
George Clooney: Really, who wants seventy virgins? I want eight pros.
At the coffee shop: Gas is a dollar eighty-six! We need to, like, start saving milk jugs.
At the coffee shop: I'm just really intense. I feel Italian sometimes.
The Head Monkey: He lost a ball in the sun at the opening kickoff and he ain't see it since.
(Background: Pastor Fixit has a magazine with a photo of a scantily-clad woman wearing a car as a necklace.)
The Head Monkey: You gonna get a necklace like that if you buy that car?
Pastor Fixit: No way.
The Head Monkey: Well, sometimes you want to look like a lady and not like a pastor.
Pastor Fixit (coldly): That is no lady.
Spouse: I have some papers that I need to keep safe. Where could I put them?
Me: Safe? Safe from what?
Spouse: From getting lost. From having things spilled on them. They're my parents' financial information.
Me: Oh. You want to put them in a file. There's a folder with your name on it in the file box that's on the desk in the computer room.
Spouse (shouting from upstairs): I can't open this; I don't know the code.
Me: What code? It's a cardboard box ... oh, wait, no, you've found my lockbox, which is on my dresser. The file box is on the desk.
Spouse: OK.
... time passes ...
Spouse: I'm sorry. I just can't see anything like that on your dresser.
Me: Desk. it's on the desk.
Spouse: But what is it?
Me: A great. Big. Box. Full of file folders. On the desk.
Spouse: I think it's time for me to go to bed.
Kidlet: Can I go outside and shake my skirts at the oncoming night?
Florist neighbor: Another day in the petal factory.
Ptom: My brother can be rigid and unforgiving.
Me: I've never seen that in him.
Ptom: You've never borrowed his baseball glove without permission.
Kidlet (reading OotP in the back seat): "Here it says that if you have a cold, you can't do a spell. Like you say 'Stupefy,' but it doesn't work because it comes out 'Stubefy.'"
Me: "If that's true, then Viktor Krum shouldn't be able to do magic at all, because his accent is so heavy."
Kidlet, after a brief pause for thought: "Maybe he's only using spells that were created in his native language."
-----
Pastor Fixit left at the end of April; we're pastorless right now, which is ... peaceful, actually. The spouse is on the governing board; the Head Monkey is on one of his committees; we and the White Sheep are carrying out a quiet coup in which we, like, communicate with people and plan things and stuff.
And, to add to the cast of characters, introducing the Head Monkey: Custodian and general fixing-things guy. Absolutely, totally, fiercely loyal to everybody within what he defines as his tribe; absolutely, totally, fiercely hostile to everybody outside it. Really, really extroverted; when he gets lonesome at his job, he comes and sits at my desk and chats with me, sometimes for an hour at a time. Wide variety of colorful language, much of it cringeworthily bigoted, and yet is so friendly and affectionate that it's hard not to like him just the same.
His wife of forty years once put a note in his lunch that said, "I love you" -- he read it when he came in, and at lunchtime he took it out and read it again and beamed.
Once I watched a woman (a teen mother who uses our day-care center) go from outside the tribe to inside it in one conversation: from "Them people don't take care of their cars anyway" to "I can't have my young ladies out in the parking lot in the dark with a flat tire."
no subject
= PRICELESS!
no subject
no subject
no subject
But how do I know you've replied to my comment? I never look at Dreamwidth! *scratches head*
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
This time, I particularly loved the dry exchange starting My brother can be rigid and unforgiving.
no subject
"Of course not. No one means for Harry Potter to wind up in the toilet."
You gonna give us context for this one? :P
no subject
no subject
Squid asked me the other day in the car, "Mommy, are you a lady?"
I said, "Yes, I am --"
...and my husband burst out laughing.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
I'm just really intense. I feel Italian sometimes.
I have to share that the best director I ever worked with didn't do "speed through" rehearsals before shows and during the run, he did ITALIAN THROUGHS. He had the actors make a list of all the things they thought were Italian (which was written up on the wall backstage; I remember juicy tomatoes, spicy food, women with big butts, Romans, wine, and sex) and then had us Italian up the show, which was an English comedy of manners. I have never laughed so hard in my LIFE.
Italian-throughs. YES!
no subject
Q: Yep. That's my QiaoMiao.
LTYOS, indicating chair in which Qiao is reclining overstuffedly: This your chair?
Q: Yep. That's my desk chair.
LTYOS, after some consideration: I think it not your chair any more. It the cat chair now.
Q: ...kid, you may be right about that.
we and the White Sheep are carrying out a quiet coup in which we, like, communicate with people and plan things and stuff.
Isn't that against the law in most of this country?
no subject
...and I have known many people like your Head Monkey. He sounds like quite a character...
no subject
One of my brothers very much resembles this description. That last sentence especially is really great and makes me feel better for still liking him. I mean, I have to love him- he's my brother. At least I can (and do) explain to him that his bigotry is ignorant and jackhole-ish. Also, I very much want my nephew to be gay so that my brother who loves the boy more than life itself will finally be forced to buy a clue.