As I’m walking in the door, about 5 minutes late to class, Prof. Marathon turns from the class and says “Meg will know! Meg, how would you guard against the Evil Eye?”
I’m quick with my answer, “By yelling insults off a bridge, Professor!”
“No!” my Greek teacher yells. “In Greek art!
“Um, with a curved horn, usually a contrasting color…”
“No!” Marathon says again. “With an erect phallus!”
I’m not entirely sure why he was sure I would know that. But I won’t be coming to class late anymore.
I was at the Hamster Mall with the boys the other day. I don’t get to see my Eric that much now that he’s working about a million hous a week. So when he was out hre, he and Chris went to EB and I was in Deb looking at sundresses for a date with a certain overaged skinny man (more on that later!)
In Deb, there was this adorable little boy, perhaps three or four years, playing with the skirts and babbling to his mom. He was so cheery and well-behaved that I was getting worried about the biological clock ticking and wondering if I might be starting to not hate children anymore. Anyway, a woman with three kids comes in and the kids are screaming and whining for a visit to Kay-Bee toys next door. They are so loud most of the store is staring at them, wondering why their mother lets them act like terrors. The mother gives them a few disinterested commands to be quiet, but of course the little monsters don’t. Then she agrees to take them to Kay-Bee, pays for her clothes, and leaves.
You can see the wheels turning in the little boy’s head. The brats got toys, but he doesn’t. Therefore, whining is preferable to quiet. He looks over at him mother and starts to scream for toys.
I hate kids.
You know what butt shorts are, right? They’re those heather grey gym shorts with a word written across the wearer’s fanny. Unfortunately, I go to UMass Amherst, so our school sells shorts with “UMASS” on the backside. I giggle every time I see these, and I once told Eric and Chris about my plan to make a matching UMBOOBS sweatshirt.
Chris suggested a maroon lanyard that says “FRESHMAN” over and over (Traveling to UMass? The frosh are easily recognizable by their dorm keys on UMass lanyarns and need for direction to Mahar).
One day, when I was taking a Norse Myth class, Eric, Chris and I came up with a second line of butt shorts. We’re going to print “Freyja” and “Thor” on the rear.
Anyone else want to buy stock in our Asgard line?
The other day, I said something and Stick asked “Who’s Edward Hopper?”
“Chop suey? Dark paintings cropped funny?” I tried to tell him, leaving out the bit about my sister Bethie jumping up and down in front of the calender, but Stick was still looking blank, “Ok, you’ll know this one, it’s a classic. It’s called Nighthawks, it’s got two guys and a girl in red dress in a yellow-lit diner at night, and the rest of the — what are you laughing at?”
“Two guys and a girl?” He repeated, still chuckling.
“Yeah. Oh, and the soda fountain guy, and why are you laughing?”
“It’s MARILYN MONROE and JAMES DEAN and ELVIS, Meg!”
Sometimes I don’t think we live in the same universe.
When I first met Stick and we exchanged numbers, we relegated each other to forty-something on the cell phone speed-dial list. It eventually came up that one and two in the phone book of Stick are his ex-girlfriend’s cell and apartment numbers. I was a little worried about this, in fact I started to feel a little jealous. And by “a little jealous,” I mean terrified and threatened. In fact, it bothered me so much that I hit speed-dial one on my own phone and asked Eric if he thought this was okay.
Just heard from my sister that our grandfather has a new dog. A golden retriever. He’s named it Kitty Kitty Kitty, so he can say “Here, Kitty Kitty Kitty!” and the giant retriever comes. No, I’m not kidding.
Sometimes people who know both my sister and me want to know who got the weird genes in the family. I think this proves there’s more than enough to go around.
You know what sucks about Puzzle Pirates? There’s no pause button. So if you’re, say, playing the drinking game and, say, beating Pat senseless and then the phone rings, there’s no way to pause it. So if the person on the phone is Allison, and she’s calling to say she’s GETTING MARRIED, you have to shout “Chris! Eric! Take over my game!” as you jump over furniture and run out the door to squeal and cry in the parking lot.
I think that’s a serious design flaw.
