What ever happened to private conversations?

I'm pretty sure I could support an entire blog dedicated to nothing more than things I've overheard at Starbucks. Most recently I heaped my things on the main table, took out my notebook, set myself up, and only then took notice of the two men talking in tones of fluctuating volumes. The loud parts were about doctors and tests, the lowered parts were about levels of contagious. All I'm saying is if you're going to have a conversation about how contagious you are (or could be) please please please don't do it at a Starbucks in midtown. And, for that matter, if you're going to have a phone conversation at Starbucks please recognize that we can hear you. So, if you're going to call tech support and ream out the accented technician you can't really hang up and just pretend like nothing really happened.

It's a curious building I live in...

I would have never described myself as paranoid, but I think living on the edge of Boulevard has had its effects. I got home Sunday only to find a Maserati parked out back. I'm convinced we now have drug dealers living or doing business on the premises. This is on the heels of a neighbor randomly showing up with a baby one day. All I'm saying is she was never pregnant and, one conversation would convince you she's not fit for adoption. The only plausible conclusion is that she stole a baby. As if all of that isn't enough, my incredible humping downstairs neighbors have picked up a new hobby -- this one lasts a little longer but nevertheless happens at 3 a.m. -- they've begun playing the bass guitar. I could get down with some good bass, but, surprisingly, these two lack anything that resembles rhythm.

That, in a nutshell, is my Atlanta home life -- crack heads, stolen babies and bass guitar.

Somethings are better not overheard

Today I went for lunch at Chick-fil-a. Shortly after I got my #1 with a diet coke and took a seat a threesome sat down next to me. Let me tell you it is tough to enjoy even the most delicious of delicious chicken sandwiches with three people sitting less than a foot away talking about their sex lives. I knew way too much about way too many strangers in way too short a time. If I haven't even touched my fries and know about your latex allergies...there's a problem. Until today I have never not finished a #1 with a diet coke.

Glory is great but fleeting.

There's always a little part of me that dreads doing work at Starbucks because amid all of the students with their MCAT study books I'm usually the only one drawing marker comps for banner ads to promote the world's ugliest dog competition. Something about tracing an ugly dog for the 10th time in as many minutes feels a little special needs.
When I showed up at Starbucks a couple of days ago and saw a student pouring over a textbook at my table I kicked myself for not pre-sketching my comps. Imagine my surprise when I saw what, exactly, he was studying...salad dressings! I finally felt a little smarter...until a guy sat down next to me with a three inch thick book called "Cognitive Psychology".

I think I've been at the Circus too long...

Last night I met someone and they corrected me on the pronunciation of their name...in my own dream!

Just another weekend in household

Yesterday I had to run to Publix to pick up an onion for our Pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving dinner -- the annual rebaptism of our oven (after of a summer long ban on all oven activities). I should mention that I was entering Publix after a tough workout at the gym...at 2:00...on an empty stomach. You can not hold me responsible for buying more than 1 onion on an empty stomach. So about an hour after I got home Nate pointed to the cake I bought like what the F. I ignored him the first time, but when he wouldn't let it go I started dying laughing. He was like what's so funny...it was all I could do to get out the words "you better not look in the freezer."
Basically, post workout I walked out of Publix with cake, frozen yogurt and 1 onion.
As a sidenote, our prethanksgiving dinner was delicious! Downside -- we now have 10 lbs. of turkey chillin' in our fridge. Two days from now I'll be using turkey as a condiment.

Three Words

At Home Waxing.

yeah, I went there.

I love shopping at Publix. I probably frequent their deli counter approximately two to three times per week. On a recent trip I was getting a pre-football game sub when the lady making my sub decided to strike up some conversation. What I like about Publix is that they are always so friendly and this conversation started out very congenial. She said that she liked my hair which was very kind of her. She then proceeded to say the "two tone" look is very in style right now. I was kind of not sure how to respond to that and a little embarrassed to be called out for having roots in front of some other, very hungry, patrons. When I thought we were done she then added that I "look good with a perm."
Now I may have bad roots, but I do NOT perm my hair!

Adventures on I85

I spent this past weekend at my alma mater, Furman University's, annual Homecoming. I managed to convince Nate to join me in the type of reveling you can only enjoy on a completely dry campus. We left a cold and drizzly Atlanta at 9:00 sat. morning and arrived at a slightly colder and more drizzly Greenville about 2 hours later.

I've resigned myself to the fact that the older I get the more sentimental I become. Our first stop on campus was the bookstore...a place I probably visited twice (mostly as a shortcut to somewhere else) in four years of higher learning. On this particular trip I managed to snatch up all things purple and only drew the line at a mug that said "Furman Grandparents" (after spending a moment trying to justify it).

Leaving the bookstore and strolling out the doors of the newly remodeled Pala'den Nate turned to me and said Furman's motto should be "Furman, for the privileged and sheltered." I immediately turned to him and said "I don't think so, now take my picture in the safety of the grotto in the rose garden!" (insert picture I can't figure out how to upload but is available for your viewing pleasure on Facebook).

After wandering around campus a bit we made our way over to the football game which may have doubled as the south's largest young republicans meeting. (insert picture)
Biggest memory of the game was me wishing I wore socks.

Unfortunately I didn't see too many people from around my year. That didn't stop me from looking later that night downtown. Didn't find any old friends but met some new ones in the form of a charismatic young dermatologist. A few melanoma stories later we were ready to call it a night.

We ended Saturday night pretty late and started our Sunday morning all too early. All in all it was a pretty good jam packed 24 hours of Greenville lovin'.

OMG!

My new single source of greatest entertainment comes from watching my parents text me. To them the whole concept is still kind of a novelty to be enjoyed like 8 tracks and tetris circa 1988.
In the beginning my mom couldn't figure out how to turn off the short cut feature so I would get a lot of weird randomly timed texts that read like Buddha sayings. It was all very Zen and for a while I felt very enlightened if not clueless to anything my mom was trying to communicate. Now that she's figured out the buttons she's moved on to lingo....lingo that I don't think she really understands. I'm getting a lot of texts that read something like "Drive safe, lol."
Frankly, I don't know what's more disturbing, the fact that my mom sounds like a highschooler or that that highschooler has now sent me a friend request on Facebook.

Another reason to be thankful that I'm not anorexic

My boyfriend, Nate, and I are about to celebrate 5 years together. It's tough to appreciate just how long that is until I look at the way our arguments have devolved into the most trivial things. We used to argue about all kinds of things that seemed rather important at the time...and now? Mostly we argue about what's for dinner.

Sample argument:

Me: What do you want on the pizza?

Nate: How about pepperoni?

Me: I'm not in the mood for pepperoni, what about green peppers?

Nate: I don't like green peppers. What about sausage.

Me: I could do sausage. What about mushrooms with sausage?

long story short we usually end up ordering a large pizza with extra cheese, and, if we're feeling frisky, a side of buffalo wings, but, regardless it always takes us 20 minutes to get there. (note: on the one occasion I won and we deviated from the norm and got extra sauce it proved a big mistake...no one should ever have to eat pizza with a spoon.)

The best part isn't that this is the kind of thing we'll argue about...it's that I will unflinchingly have this same conversation on my cell phone in a public space. I could be at Starbucks and the kid sitting across the table from me is working on his senior thesis or med school application and I'm there starting at marker comps and and taking inventory of what's in the fridge for dinner..."you want pastrami...a pound and a half...yeah there's swiss cheese...no I think we used all the thousand island dressing...we could still do a salad...there's still half a cucumber..." Depending on the day of the week that could go on for a while.

I guess there is some comfort and familiarity to this routine that only gets played out when you've known someone for so long....but damned if next time I really am going to get green peppers.