Thursday, June 09, 2005

The Young Turks

Ah, the young turks are indolent in the conference room. The tall redhead, her doofy boyfriend Pete, and Summer Faust Reading Lambchop. Tall redhead and the b-friend look like brother and sister; they convey a wholesome conjoinity. However, the scoop on him is, he's the one who "slept with everyone last summer." That came out at our "grownup" staff meeting. Good to know! Edie revealed that nugget and was summarily chastised by the eviscerating (but lovable!) Maddie. I, of course, lapped it up and have been viewing young Pete with disdain and disapproval ever since. Redhead is besotted with him and he looks all smug with his penguin gait.

My husband just IMed me: "I got the guns. They are small but the guy said they are better quality and shoot farther." It took me a second to process that. Water guns. Nick's birthday party Saturday. I had to take him to an appointment yesterday so took the afternoon off and we went to the party store afterwards. We got a bunch of Hawaiian-themed luau stuff including a sign with a parrot on it that says "Luau Party." We also got a table skirt made of hula grass, festooned with lei flowers, and a Hawaiian Punch Guy--Punchy to you--hat. The hat is hilarious.

Anyway, back to the Young Turks. They intimidate me with their youth. I have this strange disconnect of really, really not being able to understand that I am older than they are and have a much nicer office. They approach me with this youthful reticent reserve, because I am not one of them. I am a grownup, an adult, an office iguana. I have become an iguana. When I was a young office gal I used to call all the bosses "iguanas" because they looked like wizened old reptiles. Color me iguana.

I broke the ice with Summer Lambchop with a spectacular June Cleaver bellyflop. We had a "pizza day" and the young brooding lad was in the kitchen, his hands buried in his rich brown curly locks. I wanted to say, "Excusez moi, je parle pretentious intellectualle aussi, vraiment!" But instead, since I am such a suave interlocutor, I said, "Did you get some pizza!" and stood there like a cheerful second grade teacher, beaming effusively. He said, "I don't eat cheese." Okay then! I said, "Where's the fun in that!" And walked off diminished, marginalized. Vegan intellectual. Be still old reptilian heart.


Cynicism is another word for reality

Email me, you derelict wastrel

Image hosting by Photobucket

  • Downing Street Memo
  • Presidential and Musical Love Quandries
  • La Vida Loca
  • Zoo Story
  • Summertime at the Goose Preserve
  • Ratalie
  • Working Hard or Hardly Working...
  • Existential Questioning of Life Direction
  • The Retro Slut
  • Monday, Monday

  • Gargoyle Magazine
  • Paycock Press "Enhanced Gravity: More Fiction by Washington Area Women"(JUNE 2006!!!!)
  • Chattahoochee Review Winter 2002
  • Main Street Rag, Volume 7, Number 4, Winter 2003
  • Pangolin Papers Spring 2001

  • Gargoyle Magazine
  • Gorgeous Cape Cod Paintings
  • Mimi Smartypants
  • The New Yorker
  • ninjapoodles
  • Rabbit Blog
  • Reader of Depressing Books
  • Sexy Brussels Lady
  • Suburban Bliss
  • Thumbless Wonder
  • The Washington Post
  • I'm Not a Girl, Not Yet a Wino
  • Weaker Vessel
  • Gingajoy
  • MOM101
  • Suburban Turmoil
  • The Wit Memo
  • - Crazy/Hip Blog-Mamas+

    Designed by Troll Baby Graphics