I tell Jing that I can't go to her swim meet, because I'm spending the weekend in Boston.

Jing: Are you staying at a hotel?

Me: Yep.

Jing: You should steal all the soaps and shampoos and everything.

Me: I always bring something back.

Jing: When I went on the cruise, there was a razor and shaving cream. I took it, and my mom asked why.

Me: Why did you?

Jing: For my future armpits!

Me: Your future armpits?

Jing: I only have one hair under one of them now, but someday...

I bought this pair of white granny-looking shoes, because they remind me of the ones Duckie wore in Pretty in Pink. I wore them Friday, much to TBID's chagrin.

Me: My white shoes need to be broken in.

TBID: Yeah. I'll help you with that. [A pause] Oops. They fell down the sewer grating.


*

What do you think? Are they really so bad?


At the very least, they look better than Duckie's... Watch and see:

TBID on our ice-skating adventure in Staten Island: "I was afraid I'd break my arms. Not from falling. From flailing."

He's 6'2" and could be on a wrestling team.

But not an ice-dancing one. Good lord.

Tonight I'm seeing Toni Morrison, a writer I've wanted to adopt me for a very long time. I'm planning to sit on her foot and refuse to get up. I will tell her that this is a metaphor, though not one anywhere near as brilliant as one she could craft.

Me: I'm going to see Toni Morrison.

Mike: Oh? The r&b singer?

Me: Uh. Are you kidding?

Mike: Huh? You said Toni Morrison, right?

Me: Right. The writer.

Mike: Oh.

Me: I think you're thinking Toni Braxton.

Mike: Maybe.

Me: Toni Morrison, r&b singer with the #1 single "Unbreak My Slave Heart." Or "Unbreak The Heart Of My Dead Child."

Mike: You've said too much.

It's becoming clearer and clearer by the things I am privy to, that Jing has made me a kind of confidante. I try to be a good role model, but I'm still me.

Jing: My friend wants me to ask you this: What do you do if a bi girl asks you out?

Me: If a bisexual girls asks me out?

Jing: No, my friend.

Me: Oh. Is she interested?

The color drains from her face.

Jing: No!

Me: Then she should say she's not interested.

Jing: Not only is she a girl who likes another girl. She also has a boyfriend.

Me: So?

Jing: So that's cheating!

Me: Meh.

TBID and I had our last debate date last night. We went out to Dirty Bird, this soulful comfort food restaurant, before tuning in. The buttermilk fried goodness and veggies fueled interesting conversation the rest of the evening.

TBID: Everyone loves to hate brussels sprouts.

Me: They're like the Paris Hilton of vegetables.

TBID: No. Too glamorous. I'd say more like the Gilbert Gottfried.

To get his mind off of plane crashes, I start asking Jeffrey what it's like to fly across the country all by himself. He quickly starts to sell the experience to me.

Jeffrey: It's so much fun. All I do is sit there. I don't get scared at all.

Me: What about the flight attendants? Do they check up on you a lot?

Jeffrey: No, I'm fine by myself. But they do give me extra snacks.

Me: Really?

Jeffrey: Yeah. Lots of drinks. And last time I got four bags of the purple chips!

Me: You mean blue corn chips?

Jeffrey: Ewww. They're corn chips? Yuck! I like potato chips.

Me: Corn chips are good. Doritos are corn chips.

Jeffrey: They are?

Me: Doritos are tortilla chips, which are made out of corn-

Jeffrey: Which is made out of potatoes!

Me: Uh, no.

Jeffrey's flying to Los Angeles next week to spend a week with his dad. He's nervous about the flight and looking for reassurance.

Jeffrey: There aren't a lot of plane crashes, right?

Me: Right. Hardly any. There are more car crashes than plane crashes.

Jeffrey: Oh. So when was the last plane crash?

Me: Uh... Yesterday. There was one in Madrid.

I start to giggle.

Jeffrey: Why are you laughing?

Me: Because it sounds like I'm lying to you about how rare plane crashes are, but really, they seldom occur. You will probably not die in a plane crash.

Jeffrey: Probably?!

On my lunch break, tourist parents walk dejectedly into the deli with their chubby little boy in tow. His sulk becomes a smile once he spots the hot and cold bar equipped with everything from Jello to bacon-wrapped shrimp. He starts racing around to peer at each offering.

Little boy: Look! It's a buffet! I already know what I want for dessert!

The dad spies a sign on the side.

Dad: This isn't a buffet. It's $6.99 per pound.

Mom: $6.99 PER POUND?! IT'S $6.99 PER POUND?!

Native diners collectively shrug.

I instant message Life Coach throughout the week. He keeps things in perspective - an interesting perspective.

Me: Get this: He asked if he could rent movies on my Kim's Video account, since I put his name on it when we were dating.

Life Coach: I can't even entertain this anymore. Have you lost your mind? This is why I tell you to cut someone off completely.

Me: I said no, of course.

Life Coach: I think you need to stuff your face with za tonight and not talk to ANYONE.

Me: Did you just abbreviate "pizza"?

Life Coach: Yes.

Me: You're crazy. That word is not even long.

Life Coach: Yeah, I'm the crazy one. Funny how all you broads say that about me, yet you girls are the ones acting a fool.

I'm in the room I share with four guys at work. Two of the guys, one gay and one straight, are teasing each other about something. At one point, I hear, "I don't think Amanda's gay."

Co-worker 1: We're a shifty group, and watch out, we recruit.

Co-worker 2: Like a sexual Jehovah's Witness. A JeHOMO'S Witness!

We don't have an official employee handbook...yet.

After getting an email regarding Hurricane Dolly and then seeing storm coverage on Yahoo!, I decide to call home and check on my parents. I leave a message and then hear back from my dad immediately.

Me: Hey! What's going on with the hurricane?

Daddy: There's a hurricane.

Me: Okay... So you guys are alive?

Daddy: Yep.

Me: Is it raining?

Daddy: Yep.

Me: Did Corpus get evacuated?

Daddy: Yeah. We're evacuating.

Me: You guys are going to evacuate?

Daddy: Yeah, I just evacuated my office and went to the living room.

The 1 train, which could connect me to the 2/3 train and get me home, isn't running. I realize I will have to go to another train station nine blocks away or just walk home. It is almost 10 p.m., and I feel like hunger is drilling holes into my brain.

So I call my mom.

Me: I'm exhausted and starving and the 1 train isn't working, so now I'm walking home. I think I'm just gonna order a pizza...

Mama: You should do that.

Me: But what if the delivery guy gets to my apartment before I do? Maybe I should just go to the store and wait for the pizza. Maybe I could convince the guy to give me a ride to my place on his bike.

Mama: [much laughter]

Me: No, I'm serious.

Woman #1: Oh, Jewish guys. They're the best boyfriends.

Woman #2: Yeah! So sensitive-

Woman #1: "What's wrong? What are you feeling?" And they listen!

Woman #2: I think it's the mothering.

Me: Well, they are the Chosen People.

Jeffrey is revising some of his writing when a complete non sequitur strikes him. As usual, I am too amused to be annoyed.

Jeffrey: What's the difference between a Christian and a Catholic?

Me: Christians believe in Jesus and God. Catholics are one type of Christian.

Jeffrey: My mom said that Catholics believe in the Father, the Son, and something else.

Me: The Holy Ghost.

Jeffrey: Huh?!

Me: Catholics believe in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

Jeffrey: Holy Ghost... That sounds creepy.

The new kid I tutor, Jeffrey, is the most outspoken fourth-grader I've ever met.

Jeffrey: What kind of girl are you? The kind that just stands around and talks, or do you run around and get loud?

Me: During recess, you mean?

Jeffrey: Yeah.

Me: Well, I don't have a recess. I haven't for a long time.

His eyes widen, and he nods sympathetically.

Me: But when I did, I guess I'd do both. Sometimes I'd talk; other times I'd race some of the boys.

Jeffrey: You can run fast?

Me: I used to.

He sighs.

Jeffrey: My mom says the same thing. "I used to run fast." I tell her, "Mom, you're not paralyzed now!"

Jing is always up for digressions and fortunately, they often lead to teachable moments. Except when I don't do the best job of explaining something.

Jing: What's an oxymoron?

Me: It's when a description of something contradicts itself, like... Well, like dull roar or tidy mess.

Jing: Or pretty ugly?

Me: Kind of, but "pretty" is being used more like an adverb there.

Jing: Or smart homeless person?

Me: Ummm, NO. And that's not necessarily a contradiction.

Jing: Homeless person who smells good?

Me: JING! That's not appropriate. What's with you?

Jing: Alright. Britney Spears with hair?

Me: No, no, no. That's not an oxymoron. And she has hair now.

I told my co-workers about it yesterday and printed out poems for everyone.

Me: Tomorrow is Poem in Your Pocket Day.

Phil: Ewww. Do I even wanna know what that's about?

Me: April is National Poetry Month. So tomorrow is Poem in Your Pocket Day.

Phil: Oh! I thought you said Palm in Your Pocket.

*

This morning, I picked one poem for each co-worker. Phil came into work today and found "The Owl and the Pussycat" on his desk.

Phil: Hmmm... Is this one as good as "Stopping by Woods on an Overrated Evening"?

*

Later, the boy I'm dating (TBID) shared some poetry he'd stumbled upon in his in-box.

TBID: Spam subject line: "Bomb her womb from your huge cannon!"

Me: Ewww. But I gotta admire the figurative language.

TBID: Yeah, I know. That's great. Is there any word for words that look like they rhyme on paper, but don't rhyme in actual speech? Like bomb/womb?

Me: Eye rhymes, but I think there's a more technical term.

*

Happy Poem in Your Pocket Day!

It's after lunch, and somehow the people in my office have started discussing sexually transmitted diseases.

Jim: HPV? What's that one?

Mike: Human papillomavirus.

Jim: Do guys get that, too?

Me: They're pretty much just carriers.

A brief moment of quiet reflection.

Jim: [whining] Why do men gotta carry everything? Why don't you carry my disease for awhile?!



*Learn more about HPV here.

(If you're wondering if I think your son or daughter, niece or nephew, etc. should be vaccinated against HPV, let me assure you that I absolutely do).

I'm looking out the window of my office building, wondering if I should wear my scarf when I go out to grab lunch.

Me: Is it chilly out there?

Phil: No, it's more of a bisque.