- My local coffee place takes friendliness to an almost embarassing level. The moment you set foot in the door there's a chorus of "Hello Andrew!" Good morning Andrew!". Ok, it's nice, but unless I'm really up for it I can usually just manage a sheepish "um, hey" kind of response.
- Sometimes I boom a big "Morning!" at 'em, just to keep them guessing. They probably think I'm bipolar.
- People, you need to let it go. Seriously. It's February, time to take the Christmas wreath off your front door. You don't get a second dip at the Santa action for a whole year yet.
- Likewise the faded cards poked into your venetian blinds. Be brave, they've had their moment of glory.
- There's a guy who gets on my train in the morning who once caught me checking him out. I don't think he was particularly buoyed or encouraged by the attention, so ever since I've been actively not looking at him. You know? Except I keep accidentally looking at him. Like I'll look up from my book at the exact moment that he is walking by. So of course he doesn't get that I'm not looking at him, because as far as he knows I'm looking at him. Or, not not looking at him. Poor bastard, I can tell I'm freaking him out. Do you think it would help if I chased him up the platform explaining that while it appears I'm not not looking at him, that's just the cruel hand of coincidence?
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
5 Tuesday Morning Commute Thoughts And Observations
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
10 comments:
I suggest looking at him while drooling. A little bit of spittle can make all the difference!
I've heard that. Somewhere...
heh.
It's only Monday, but I'll just dispense with the formalities and declare #5 the favorite thing I read this week.
Been there.
We are cut from the same cloth. (Something glittery would be my guess. Sequined?)
Yes, yes, we're highly reflective, but mostly I just love the way you wrote that.
Thanks! Reflect on that.
Andrew, get in another carriage. That poor boy! (and see if he follows you...)
I used to pass the same cute looking man at a city bus stop each morning as I walked to work. He always seemed to be looking well away from me and I assumed he wasn't aware of my admiring stares. This went on for months until one day out of the blue he suddenly lunged at me with his umbrella and asked me not to stare at him. Boy was I embarrassed.
Victor, I can only imagine! Oh that's like my worst fear. I'll bet you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you.
Post a Comment