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July 28, 2005
Tales from the darkest Mission
One of the companies that shares our office is run by a man named Temp. "Were your parents expecting a more permanent child to come along later or something?" I asked, but weirdly he did not think this was very funny.
There is a conference of math teachers meeting here this week and the hipster-looking one told me I always look despondent, except he didn't use that word because he teaches math, not English. I'm dismayed to hear it because I try to give the impression of being a cheerful, slightly vacant girl, which encourages people not to give me too many things to do at one time. Apparently I'm coming off as sullen instead. I had my revenge, though. We got to talking about books and I confessed I am in the middle of yet another volume of Anais. "Anais Nin," he exploded. "That woman couldn't write her way out of a house of cards. She used adjectives like other people use nouns."
"She was my grandmother," I said. For the first time ever, a hipster turned beet.
Posted by didofoot at July 28, 2005 04:41 PM
Comments
Beet.
[beat]
Nod.
Posted by: Dianna at July 28, 2005 06:02 PM
ahhh! grand.
Woman, you rock.
Posted by: kati at July 28, 2005 06:06 PM
You're horrible. I could never do that. I would feel so bad, plus I don't think I could pull it off with a straight face.
Posted by: nuala at July 29, 2005 09:23 AM
well, it's no lie.
Posted by: didofoot at July 29, 2005 09:29 AM
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