Back when I lived in No. Virginia ages and ages ago, I frequently went to the IHOP in Alexandria with my friend, Teri. Actually, there were two IHOPs in Alexandria, but once we discovered the second, we never went back to the first. Sure, the first one had good pancakes, but the second. Well, the second one had dinner and a show for the same price! She was there every night we went, leading me to surmise that she simply lived at work, possibly in a stall in the bathroom. She was our Crazy Waitress and we looked forward to seeing her every time. Crazy Waitress would wander from table to table taking people's orders while simultaneously carrying on her own long-running conversation with herself. "I told him, I tells him, hi ladies, can I take your order? I tells him "If you think I'm working this Sunday, you've got another thing coming!" and I'm afraid we're out of that drink, how about a Coke instead? and my boss continues to yell at me so I tells him, you want that with the pancakes or the hashbrowns ma'am? OK, so I tells him that if I don't get off Sunday I'm finally quitting! and how would you like your eggs done? I'm telling you, your order will be out shortly, I'm telling you I'm not doing this anymore!! We'll have words and...." And the conversation would fade as she moved on to the next table of enthralled, incredulous customers. When Teri moved away I never went back to that IHOP, but I sure hope Crazy Waitress patched things up with her boss because I would hate knowing the establishment had thrived without her.
I was at the mall the other day munching on a slice of pizza in the food court. We sat right next to one of those Tetris-like stand-alone games called "Stacker." The prizes you can win ranged from crappy, cheap stuffed animals to PlayStation 2s. I was entertained by two young future juvenile hall candidates who were thrilled out of their brains that they could possibly win a PS2 just by playing a lousy mall game. I was even more entertained noting that they didn't bother to notice that the PS2 box they so lusted after was twice as big as the prize claim chute and door they would supposedly retrieve it from. How can such a thing not totally make my day?
I saw a bumper sticker on a car in the mall parking lot one day. It said "Fat people are harder to kidnap." I've pondered the depth of this statement and have come to the conclusion that truer words have never been communicated via car appendage. I'm going to switch from eating donuts for breakfast to serving them for dinner instead.
I had a friend in elementary school named Joey. He was a delicate, sensitive boy, and the only boy among several sisters; he was spoiled like crazy. Joey, the little flower, had a penchant for passing out when he saw gross things. In 5th grade we were watching a film of a woman being X-rayed while eating an apple. When the apple began to move through her digestive system, we heard a loud SMACK on the floor. The teacher turned on the lights and we all crowded around the limp form of Joey sprawled out on the floor. The teacher, an elderly lady (she was our 6th grade teacher's teacher back when he was a boy, if that's any indication), grabbed his hand and dragged a newly conscious and confused Joey down the hallway to the nurse's office. The next year, we were watching Eskimos gut a seal when, again, a loud WHAP disrupted our fascination and turned it toward Joey's body. Andy had the sensitivity to inquire if Joey was dead this time around. The teacher, a fairly large and fit man, kindly carried poor confused Joey to the nurse's office. I think Joey got notes from his mom after that. Later, his mom confessed that Joey frequently passed out while watching TV at home, which only raised even more obvious questions like "What the hell are you letting your son watch at home?" and "Why are you letting him watch it?" *Sigh* Poor sensitive, girly Joey. He's making a dollar-a-minute as a concert pianist now, so I guess it all worked out for him, especially considering the comparative lack of gross things associated with piano-playing and all. And I guess classical concerts in general.
And finally, Stephenie Meyer. Ah, Stephenie. Do you hate us that much? Or did you just get bored and decide to stop writing? You know, before the last Indiana Jones film came out George Lucas said he knew some people would hate the ending. I said at the time, "Well I refuse to be one of those people!" Well, I hated it. Before Breaking Dawn came out, Stephenie Meyer said she knew some people were going to hate how it ended. I thought, "Well I'm not going to be one of those people!" Again, I hated it. I've come to the intelligent conclusion that I am in fact "some people" and "one of those people." I think I should just start listening to folks when they tell me I'm not going to like their work and take their word for it.