A few months ago I was at a "First Friday" gathering of history department folks where we drink beer and talk almost incessantly about work. I've been trying to not be quite so image conscious and work minded with my fellow grad students and my professors. So I thought I'd reveal a bit more of my personalty, with interesting results.
One of the new grad students told me she was from Parkersburg, and I asked her a bit about her town. She ended up telling a story about working in a department store and being asked out to dinner by a male customer. She accepted, and at the restaurant, told the guy a funny anecdote about how the first time she undressed the manequins, she was taken aback by the size and shape of their nipples. The guy laughed at her story. After a beat, he asked, "How big are your nipples." She told him it was none of his business.
We laughed a bit at her story. I, as usual, had some follow-up questions. Then there was lull. I thought, maybe I should share something about myself. Let's see...nipple story. I flipped through the anecdotes filed under "Nipple--Humorous," and came out with this gem:
"I got an injection in my nipple once when I was five years old."
My opener was met with silence. I followed with, "It was really strange because to this day I have no idea what the injection was about."
Then there were questions. Could you have dreamed it? Maybe it was a testosterone injection? Does it not work anymore? I did say that it responds differently to cold, at which point my friend John said he didn't know whether I was full of shit or serious.
About a month after that I told another group about the experience of telling that story and how it brought conversation to a screeching halt. Ironically, it had the same effect the second time.
Well, let's just say project reveal-more-of-myself-to-coworkers had a rough start.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
A Night on the Town
I decided to take my lady out for a night on the town. So, we dressed in our fineries and headed up to the big city of Pittsburgh to see Sweeney Todd at Heinz Hall. I told her to pick any restaurant for our pre-show meal.
On our way up, she mentioned that her co-worker was taking a young woman to see Todd the next day. This guy just moved to Pittsburgh, and whenever I talk to him or Krista tells a story about him, he's buying goat cheese at Whole Foods or fresh-roasted coffee from the Strip, or he's attending art showings or finding an Ecuadorian restaurant or having brunch with the Rooney family and so forth. Here I thought we'd be one up on him going to the musical at Heinz Hall.
Krista chose an Indian restaurant in Carnegie, and we followed a new GPS guiding system on her cell phone. Right on Jones, Left on Smith, Right on Main Street...A couple of times I missed the turn off and the GPS recalculated our route. Then one time it said, "Recalculating route...Make the next legal U-turn." By the time we arrived at our "destination," a dark, dead-end street with no discernable restaurants, we were starting to run out of time.
So we decided to try to find another Indian restaurant and quick. After driving around some more, we realized we would be really pressed for time. I suggested that we just do fast food and that we do the restaurant another night.
Still wanting some foreign food, we chose the Taco Bell. I ordered for both of us and drove around to the window. We sat literally for ten minutes waiting on our food. Eventually, the cashier/waitperson asked, "Did you order the Seven-Layer Burrito, the Cheesy Fiesta Potatoes..." I replied that that was indeed our order, and I asked him how much of the order was already prepared and in the bag. He said that he did not know and would have to talk to the food preparers. I clarified that I wanted to know how much he already had in the bag just to his right. He said nothing. I said that I wanted my money back.
So I gave him my debit card back, and he got the assistant manager. After another two or three minutes, she said that she might not be able to give us our money back because she couldn't get her commerce apparatus to cooperate. I said, "Just give me my card back." We drove on, near starvation, until we found a Wendy's to our liking.
After that, I took a wrong turn and ended up on a highway leaving Pittsburgh. By the end, we were driving frantically to find a parking garage, falling in mud puddles, running from angry hobos, and making a gypsy woman our lifelong enemy.
I told Krista that her co-worker would probably take his best gal to a secret restaurant under the river, mermen would take them to the water's edge where a coach and horses would be waiting, and that they would not only have backstage passes but also backstage seats.
Incidentally, Sweeney was fun. The actors remained on stage the whole time and also played all the instruments, which sounded great. I could quibble about some awkward blocking and the set, but I was really just glad to get home without further incident.
On our way up, she mentioned that her co-worker was taking a young woman to see Todd the next day. This guy just moved to Pittsburgh, and whenever I talk to him or Krista tells a story about him, he's buying goat cheese at Whole Foods or fresh-roasted coffee from the Strip, or he's attending art showings or finding an Ecuadorian restaurant or having brunch with the Rooney family and so forth. Here I thought we'd be one up on him going to the musical at Heinz Hall.
Krista chose an Indian restaurant in Carnegie, and we followed a new GPS guiding system on her cell phone. Right on Jones, Left on Smith, Right on Main Street...A couple of times I missed the turn off and the GPS recalculated our route. Then one time it said, "Recalculating route...Make the next legal U-turn." By the time we arrived at our "destination," a dark, dead-end street with no discernable restaurants, we were starting to run out of time.
So we decided to try to find another Indian restaurant and quick. After driving around some more, we realized we would be really pressed for time. I suggested that we just do fast food and that we do the restaurant another night.
Still wanting some foreign food, we chose the Taco Bell. I ordered for both of us and drove around to the window. We sat literally for ten minutes waiting on our food. Eventually, the cashier/waitperson asked, "Did you order the Seven-Layer Burrito, the Cheesy Fiesta Potatoes..." I replied that that was indeed our order, and I asked him how much of the order was already prepared and in the bag. He said that he did not know and would have to talk to the food preparers. I clarified that I wanted to know how much he already had in the bag just to his right. He said nothing. I said that I wanted my money back.
So I gave him my debit card back, and he got the assistant manager. After another two or three minutes, she said that she might not be able to give us our money back because she couldn't get her commerce apparatus to cooperate. I said, "Just give me my card back." We drove on, near starvation, until we found a Wendy's to our liking.
After that, I took a wrong turn and ended up on a highway leaving Pittsburgh. By the end, we were driving frantically to find a parking garage, falling in mud puddles, running from angry hobos, and making a gypsy woman our lifelong enemy.
I told Krista that her co-worker would probably take his best gal to a secret restaurant under the river, mermen would take them to the water's edge where a coach and horses would be waiting, and that they would not only have backstage passes but also backstage seats.
Incidentally, Sweeney was fun. The actors remained on stage the whole time and also played all the instruments, which sounded great. I could quibble about some awkward blocking and the set, but I was really just glad to get home without further incident.
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