a large soup and a life story

Things I discovered about my cashier while paying for my soup at Hale and Hearty today:

:: He received an Easy Bake Oven as a gift at the age of eight
:: He credits the device as one of the leading causes of his addiction to food as an adult
:: He blames the rest of his addiction on his mother, with whom he shares a love/hate relationship
:: His cousin home schools his children
:: Those kids "dress funny" and "drink a lot"

What I said to prompt this revealing slice of life: "Hello!"

Lesson learned.

i'll have the big gulp, thank you

Okay, so there's this woman at work who's relatively new and, I swear to God, I CANNOT shut up around her.

Did you ever know one of those people who, despite your best efforts, you simply cannot help but yammer incessantly whenever they are near? Well, it happens to me occasionally and it sucks. I don't know what comes over me sometimes. It's like a sickness.

Believe it or not, I'm considered quiet at work... [I'll pause for the incredulous, "Youuuuuuuuuu?!" response. To which I say: "How very clever and unexpected! Now, suck my left nut and let me get on with my story!" Mama has the PMS, you see...]

So, as I was saying before I was hypothetically interrupted, I'm considered one of the less talkative people in the office. This woman, however, would be inclined to disagree.

It's not that she even makes me nervous or flustered. I don't like her or anything like that. I mean, she's nice and stuff but I'm not stricken chatty because I have a crush on her. I swear I don't. I realize that I'm opening myself up to accusations that I doth protest too much but those of you willing to levy such a charge can taketh thine Shakespeare and shove it up thine arse(s). Me lady is not even me type.

Anyhoo, I think I may have discovered the root of the problem. The first time she and I spoke, I had just emerged from a day of not really socializing with anyone. I was really busy all day and didn't have a chance to chat with any of my coworkers. I bumped into her in the pantry late in the day and SPLAT! Verbal fucking diarrhea. A day's worth of pent-up chit-chat, small talk and mindless banter exploded from my mouth with such speed and force that I could NOT put a cork in it. I had the oral runs. The talkative trots, even. The spoken shits, if you will.

I caught myself jawing away and was actually telling myself to shut up in my head. But I couldn't reel it in. What spewed forth was an unending stream of uninteresting, useless, overly-detailed information, observations and the like. I was holding that poor woman hostage but could.not.make.it.stop. I felt like Ted Striker constantly talking about the war to his fellow passengers in Airplane! How this woman wasn't dangling from the rafters or sucking on a bullet by the time our conversation ended is nothing short of a miracle.

And now whenever I see her, I try so hard to be cool and not talk a lot that I get nervous and well, the incessant babbling begins. I feel like emailing her and saying, "Look, I'm not usually such a talkative fucktard. I swear I'm not. May we please wipe the slate clean and begin again?"

Maybe I should invest in a sedative. I can have it on me at all times like an EpiPen so that I can just jab myself in the thigh whenever I feel an attack coming on. That should do it. OR!!! I can follow her into the bathroom every time she goes in. At some point, she's bound to emit an embarrassing noise or odor and then won't she be ashamed that I witnessed it! The balance of power will finally be restored!

Ooh, there she goes! Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go "fix my hair."

taxicab confession

I seem to be stuck in a cycle where strangers feel completely comfortable telling me rather intimate details of their lives. I think I emit some sort of pheromone that attracts highly-personal relationship-gone-wrong stories and detailed (and usually very graphic) medical histories. Seriously, I've been pretty patient about it up to now but I am instituting a zero tolerance policy when it comes to discussing certain ailments. If your condition involves phlegm, fungus or oozing... move on. Please note that this is not an exhaustive list -- I'll update it as the need arises.

But I digress... in a cab ride from the Upper West Side to Brooklyn tonight, I discovered that my cab driver:

:: is against the upcoming fare hike
:: hates Bloomberg and is concerned for all New Yorkers about the rising cost of living in NYC
:: lives in a 3-bedroom in Elmhurst and only pays $550/month
:: will be evicting a freeloading woman he's been shacking up with for the past seven years... TOMORROW. Apparently, she's been lying to him and bleeding him dry and he "can't have that." Girlfriend will be pounding the pavement tomorrow if all goes according to plan. ::snap snap::

I actually didn't mind my verbose driver and this very personal exchange. He totally disarmed me and I even answered some of his questions and politely dodged the ones about the whereabouts of my boyfriend. I think it was his soon-to-be-single status and the toothpick dangling from his mouth that made me stonewall him during certain portions of the getting-to-know-you exercise. But he redeemed himself after I paid my fare... he removed the toothpick and blew me a kiss of thanks without being gross about it. I almost offered to go to Queens to help him evict the dirty skank.