“Is that the guy from the hive thing?”
“‘Every sci fi show has a hive of some kind. Â Can you narrow that down for me?”
"That's not writing - that's typing." --Truman Capote
“Is that the guy from the hive thing?”
“‘Every sci fi show has a hive of some kind. Â Can you narrow that down for me?”
“You know, as we were driving up to your house, we almost couldn’t find your exit?”
“Really?”
“Yeah – it’s 404.”
…
…
groan.
“Add edamame to the list. Â I know we already have a couple of bags, but if the apocalypse comes, we’ll need some.”
“I think if the apocalypse comes, edamame will be the least of our worries.”
“Oh, no soybeans are important during an apocalypse. Â Protein. Â Fiber.”
“Seriously – if we’re quickened? Â Swooped? Â What’s the word?”
“Raptured?”
“Yeah.”
“You make it sound like a financial program.”
“You don’t know how disappointed I was to see the doors close just as I reached the top of the escalator last night, then had to wait 20 minutes for the next train.”
“I know.”
“It was one of those, ‘Oh, if I’d just crossed the street a little faster, or gotten behind someone faster at the turnstiles’ – remember that movie Sliding Doors?”
“Yeah?”
“It was just like that.”
“Oh?”
“Except, you know – for the mugging and the pregnancy and dying and finding you in bed with another woman and a lot of other stuff.”
“Right.”
“Yes, exactly like that.”
—————————————–
Reading aloud from DCist’s own “overheard” column, after both of us have indulged in a hearty laugh:
On the Navy Yard Metro platform after Thursday’s Nats game:
Metro policeman: “People, move it on to the middle of the train. Let’s pack the car right Nats fans. You not cherry-blossomers. You people know to do this. You live here.â€
“I think I love that far more than I should admit.”
Me: Are you using Henry* to drain the cooler?
John: Yeah.
Me: Poor Henry.
John: He volunteered.
Me: He’s a giver, Henry is.
John: Yes, he is.
*All fake turtles in our house are named Henry.
“I shall go upstairs and change, and then I shall be returned.”
“You will be returned? Do I get a refund?”
“Minus a 15% restocking fee.”
….because we’re that far around it. This is based on me telling her that John and I made up new words to the Harry Belafonte classic this weekend:
DO-nut
DO-oh-oh-oh-nut.
–daylight come and me want fried bread–
DO-misa-doughmisadough-misado-o-oh-nut
–daylight come and me want fried bread–
Hey mister dunkin-man, fry me up a do-nut.
–daylight come and me want fried bread–
–with glaze!–
Heading to the grocery store, John has some "Top 40 of our misspent teenage years" show on the radio, starring the cryogenically frozen head of Casey Kasem. Inevitably, REO Speedwagon comes on.
Heard it from a friend who…
Heard it from a friend who…
Heard it from another –
"Well, that sounds like an incredibly reliable chain."
"So, is that an information need? Does it involve information-seeking behavior?"
"Sounds more like information transmission to me."
"We’re really geeks, aren’t we?"
"Yes, but at least you’ll get a blog post out of it."
John comes in from hauling the fresh load of wood that was just delivered. He’s in that "third-day-of-a-cold, dammit-I-need-movement" phase. He’ll probably be wiped tonight.
"What’s up?" say I.
"Just want to put my boots on. I almost dropped a piece of wood on my foot."
"Good. Wouldn’t want a husband with a mooshed foot. Defective. I’d have to return you."
"Got your receipt?"
"You’re under warranty. I bought the extended plan."
"That’s power-train only. Hands and feet are accessories – not included."
Good thing he put his boots on.
Imagine, if you will, a fat "plokplokplokplokplokplokplokplokplokplokplokplok" sound from the kitchen.
Me: "What are you doing in there?"
John: "I’m filling the olive oil container. I kind of like the sound it makes."
Me: "Are you going to end up pouring olive oil all over the counter because you like the sound?"
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