This is dedicated to Buddy and Lady B who asked me to hang out in the computer room more and spy on Baby Talk Man’s conversations. Since he now seems to be afraid of me, I thought I would tell you a couple stories that you might like. And vant a little. But you know this is the way you like me to be, funny and a little bit scary.

Look, world, may I just say enough already? I’m really happy for those of you that have found true love or even true lust for that matter, but that doesn’t mean I want to watch you exchange spit on the sidewalk.

Here are some things that really annoy me when I am in public:

Long tongue kisses in the mall.

Baby talk to anyone who is not a baby. Actually, you know what, I pretty much just hate baby talk.

Your hand shoved down the girl/boy friend’s back pocket. Touch his/her ass at home, okay?

Matching outfits.

Here’s what I’m okay with:

Hand holding.

The hand is resting on the small of the back or higher. Away from the ass.

A sweet peck on the cheek/lips when parting.

Matching sunglasses.

So, here are the stories:

Crazy Hair Lady and Brown Dude

I used to work for the Dark Side Bank, in the trust department. And, in order to get to work, I would take the bus. I hate taking the bus. It’s not that it’s a perfectly legitimate form of transportation, it’s just that I don’t like people all that much and, on the bus, you are surrounded with them. Hordes of unwashed, desperate masses of people. Yuck. So I would busy myself with a book because that seemed to discourage people from striking up a conversation with me (Ah. She is reading. She is obviously an intellectual who will mock our puny brains (Yep. The intellectual who reads romance novels. Don’t mess with me, unwashed person)).

This did not stop me from people watching (I still like to do this. I carry a small notebook around with me now in case something interesting strikes me about the person that I want to implement into a character or blog about). There was this couple that rode the bus. One of the reasons why I am not a rich and famous author is because I am horrible at descriptions. Can’t do them justice. Dialogue, I can handle. Anyway, I will try to describe these people for you and hope you can understand the horror that awaited me daily on the bus.

Her: Long, flowered skirts. Long, flowered sweaters. Crazy, swirly hair exploding out of her head, some sort of brown color intershot with gray. It was wiry and looked to have the texture of a brillo pad. I can’t fault her for being a large person because I am one myself but she had absolutely no taste in clothing. None. And she smelled funny. Her sweaters had long gray hair and cat hair scattered all over them.

Him: Brown. Brown hair. Brown turtleneck. Brown corduroy pants. Brown shoes. Also a large person. Wore his turtleneck tucked into his pants. If you ever saw Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, imagine Violet but dressed in brown. Seriously. He was that round. He had greasy hair that was limp and hung flatly in his eyes, well, actually in his glasses. Did I mention that they both wore glasses?

So anyway, they would get on the bus. He would sit on the right side of the bus, next to the window. She would sit next to him. Then they would start making out. Okay, slight exaggeration. What would actually happen is that he would sit down, swivel in the seat and hold out his arms to her. She would slide into the seat and they would embrace, she would end up resting her head on his shoulder and then they would occasionally kiss. There was tongue involved at times. This happened every day.

I don’t know why it took me so long to figure out that they worked in my building but one day, a month after I talked a friend into picking me up in the morning so there was no more damn bus!, I was on the elevator and they get on. Oh, Lord. The elevator is fairly full so they are standing less than two inches away from me. Have I ever mentioned that I’m claustrophobic and having a lot of people on the elevator makes me really nervous? Well, it does. So I’m freaked out because all these people are crowding me and also, Brown Dude’s hair is getting really close to my face. Eew!

Anyway, the elevator stops, he starts to leave and a few other people start walking out as well. But then everything is brought to screeching halt when Brown Dude realizes that he hasn’t kissed Crazy Hair Lady goodbye! Oh, the horror! He quickly turns and grabs her as though he is going off to war and they will never see each other again. There is the kissing and the smacking of lips and some tongue. This is 30 seconds of my life that I will never get back. This is 30 seconds that is branded into my brain. This is 30 seconds too many!

Breakfast Links Are Not Sexy:

Talking to Lady B and Beth about Baby Talk Man set us off on the topic of couples who sit next to each other at the booth instead of across from each other and how annoying that is. I was reminded of the time I, well, had less than stellar taste in men and, long story short, started the weekend with one guy and ended up with another. Anyway, the second guy (and this was a long time ago so I really don’t remember his name – John? Steve? Ringo? Probably not Ringo, I think I would remember that) had come to my rescue when the first guy took off with my paycheck and left me at a bar and never came back. 2nd guy took me someplace (Perkins? Embers?) to eat and I was so cold and pissed off that I started shaking. 2nd guy came over and put his arm around me to help calm me down. This was kind of nice. What became a little irritating was when, after I stopped shaking and our food had arrived, he started feeding me my breakfast. I really wanted to slap his hand and say “Thank you, but I can eat the sausage all on my own.”

I mean, seriously, dude, what subliminal message are you sending here? On the one hand, it’s sausage and ooh, you have a sausage of your own, how very hot is that. On the other hand, it’s breakfast links and that’s not putting any He-man images in my head, I tell you what.

“Hi. My name is Dana and I’m a loseraholic. It’s been 7 years since my last loser (or kiss, for that matter. I really miss kissing. Losers? Not so much).” “Hi, Dana!”

Baby Talk Man Returns!

Today being Friday and therefore my day off, I decided to do something fun and exciting. Going to work for overtime. The exciting part is that I only work from 10-2 and Keem works from 7:30 to 4. So that is 4 1/2 hours that I get to blog and surf the internet! 4 1/2 hours! My life could not get anymore exciting! Or fun!

Oh, yes, it could because here comes BTM and he is heading for the phone. “Hi, Sweetie, I wanted to call and tell you I made it to work okay because I know you were worried about me. So I am here and I love you and I have to go to work and I know you have to get ready for work.”

Now, the burning question I want to ask is “Dude, where the hell do you live? Do you live in The Tundra? Were you chased by wolves this morning? Is there an evil genius after you with his robotic killing arm?” Because, honestly, is there any reason to call someone when you get to work when it’s a fairly nice day in Minnesota? Are there any killer bees reports lately? Maybe I’m missing the obvious terror of commuting since I don’t drive.

And then tonight, when I am waiting for Keem to finish working, here he is again. “Hi, it’s Baby Talk Man. I wanted to let you know that I won’t be home right away from work because we need some milk and I am going to stop and get some. And I love you.” At first I was surprised because there wasn’t the whole annoying falsetto voice he uses when he’s talking to her. And then I realized he was leaving a message.

You call her when you get to work. You call her when you leave work. Baby Talk Man, either you are totally whipped or she is the most insecure woman on the planet. Please, for the love of God, shut up already.

But maybe I’m just bitter because of the no kissing for seven years thing.

Previous Comments:

At 2:40 AM, brooksba said…

Ah Dana, I love this! Thank you for sharing these stories. Even though I heard them at work, I loved reading them at home. About the kissing thing, I have a picture of you locking lips from not too long ago. It’s right next to my computer. Remember? And no, we don’t need to rehash that entire party. Maybe that’s why you didn’t mention it. Your kiss was the highlight. Except for, “Oh my God! Oh my God! You slept with Stacy!!!”

Maybe Buddy and Lady B will remember that.

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