in medias res

Bobbing for Apple Fritters

Earlier today, when the Boy was trying to compliment me on my looks, I informed him that there had been a tragic accident when I went bobbing for apple fritters earlier that day. I laughed alone at that little gem.

Good evening. I have news.

Well, news for nerds. DID YOU KNOW that you can scan microfilm into a .pdf document? FSU has just acquired this technology. I was giddy until I tried to actually use said technology. It resulted in a lot of whirring and clicking and and zooming and dirty looks from the girl who had just been nice enough to point out the “scan” button to me. And it was one of those awful situations where our workstations faced each other and I had to make a point of turning away when I spaced out so I wasn't giving her the stranger-stare. Very Seinfeld-ian. This was one friend I would not be making.

Hm, maybe I shouldn't have started out with that. But this is the current extent of my excitement. I’m telling everyone. One of my professors shared my excitement, and I felt a little better. Maybe she felt sorry for me. However, much more excitement is pending with trips to Memphis, spring training, Maryland, and many places in between over the next few months. And I get a head-flutter every time I turn the mailbox key. Any day now, the first of eleven letters will arrive. My situation could be helped considerably if our postal technician could be a little more consistent in his delivery times. It feels like a bad relationship, where I’m waiting nervously for him to come around and he is completely oblivious. Perhaps it is time for a little DTR to make sure we’re on the same page. I don’t ask much – just a little consistency on when he’s going to deliver my future. Is that too much to ask?? Perhaps he's just not that into me.

I think I’ve just been watching too much Larry David. One of my friends didn’t realize the potential danger in letting me borrow a season of Curb Your Enthusiasm. I've begun to channel Larry David. I was in a store (that shall remain nameless) two days ago, and I almost donned my Larry David wig and went ape on the sales associate. Granted, the two of us have a bit of a history in that I used to go to NEW YORK & COMPANY (ha! I said it) often because they trick you with chain coupon-ing. You buy something to redeem a coupon, and they give you half off of your next purchase. I think I ticked off this particular ray of sunshine one day when, after over ten minutes of searching for a caring sales associate, I finally used the hook and body on one of the hanging quarter-body plastic mannequins to get another shirt down. She got all huffy, and told me that if I’d be patient, someone would help me. I wanted to inform her that no precedent had been set for me to be able to trust her. Instead, I apologized in a not nice way (one my mom would’ve made me re-do when I was 12).

For this encounter, I was actually at the cash register with Sunshine McGee. I needed to buy a pair of earrings, make a card payment, and go. I bought the earrings, but when I tried to pay the credit card (which takes 43 seconds total), Sunshine McGee told me that the other salesperson would ring me up for that. That’s fine - I waited for her to finish with her customers. Except New Girl was processing a return on a credit card with an etching of the original sales receipt, and needed to call the original store and speak to the original sales associate who was out on maternity leave, or something. It took a long time. And Sunshine McGee moseyed up to the front of the store, then back behind the counter, then she started rubbing clothes hangers together to build a fire…We had all of the elements – sales associate, cash register, and money – with no action. I barely restrained myself from using loud tones to give her an honest evaluation of her customer service skills. My roommate had my back in case things got ugly. You know those little pins they stick into the security tags? Yeah, McGee!

But this isn’t me. I don’t usually send food that tastes so-so back to the restaurant kitchen, or act rude to the salespeople or servers. I blame the media and too much enthusiasm curbing and I’m now trying to go back to my usual self. But that usual self might just involve fantasies about tackling a sales associate. (“I put my pants on one leg at a time. But once they’re on, I make solid gold records, baby!”)

Okay, confession: I’m so random because I’m desperately avoiding rewriting a paper that I have to give at a conference in 38 hours. (Now that I write that, I’m terrified.) I signed up because I thought it would be good for me. I’m going to stop doing that. So if any of you have an extra paper sitting around about The Killing Fields, and you’d care to share…otherwise, I must go back to work. Boo genocide.

posted by tara @ 8:24 PM