A few days ago, while at Starbucks, looking for some caffeine, I placed my order and then they wrote something down. "Paulie?" "sure." The barista then asked me to say my name again and I said "Molly."
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Paulie strikes back
First things first, I don't go to Starbucks that frequently. And, when I do, I say my name and then if they hear me correctly, great and if not oh well. I'll take my drink and be on my way.
A few days ago, while at Starbucks, looking for some caffeine, I placed my order and then they wrote something down. "Paulie?" "sure." The barista then asked me to say my name again and I said "Molly."
AGAIN??? How many girls are named Paulie? And how many spell it that way? I had no idea that this was a common enough spelling/name to happen not once but twice at Starbucks.
Thanks Jersey Shore, I'm pretty sure you had something to do with this.
A few days ago, while at Starbucks, looking for some caffeine, I placed my order and then they wrote something down. "Paulie?" "sure." The barista then asked me to say my name again and I said "Molly."
Boogie Knights
Remember when I went to LA for a week to help Natalie with her house? We were so busy with projects and having fun that somehow I forgot to blog. But now that I am back home, I have to tell you about a friend I made on one of our many trips to the home depot.
As most of you know, I like disco far more than anyone should. (Especially anyone who wasn't alive and on mescaline or amyl during its heyday.) It is just so infectious and dancey, how can I resist but singing along? I didn't resist walking down the moulding aisle looking for a very specific piece we needed like 6" of (measuring before buying stuff is an important thing- just so you know.) As I searched (in vain) for this moulding, I sang along to Boogie Oogie Oogie*, the classic by Taste of Honey, apparently not as too-myself as I thought I was. A friendly man with one of those huge orange lumber carts totally full announced, "You don't know anything about that!" I was taken aback. Here I was, knowing all of the lyrics - clearly I felt I did in fact know something about that. He started laughing, "You're way too young! That was the year I graduated high school. " He then went on, "I was a group called the 'Boogie Nights' we played at [specific LA club] and [specific LA club] and the old [yet another specific LA club] at [insert intersection here]." As he rattled off these club names, I recognized one, but he clearly expected me to know all three of them, so I pretended I did. He even did a little dance like in the good old days. And he had some moves. I said, "Boogie Knights - like k-n-i-g-h-t's? That's an awesome name!" (Seriously though, such a good name.) He responded, "no, nights--like jousting." Here's where I should tell you that I feel like there are specific guidelines for interaction between young melanin-deficient blondes and older men (and women) of color. For example, even though he can tell you that you know nothing about disco despite the fact that one of your all-time favorite songs is "Native New Yorker," and you have an oft played playlist of about 150 songs called "disco inferno," you can't tell him that he's spelling knights incorrectly, especially when it is 35 years past the time when an editor would have come in handy. So I tabled my know-it-all-ness. (I should do this more often.)
I listened and was thoroughly entertained by him, when Natalie and her little boy found us. I asked him, (because his cart over-floweth with wood) if he was familiar with this section of the store and if he knew if there was any more moulding on another aisle. Natalie, kindly pointed out that he didn't work at the store. I said, "I know, but we're brand new BFFs." He laughed and said that I was his BFF and he was my BFM. We were a little confused until he explained, Best Friend Female and Best Friend Male.** He did help us try to find it, and pointed out an actual home depot employee who was less than helpful. In the end, we all said our goodbyes; we went to a Lowe's and then another Home Depot and finally found the moulding we needed, and my new BFM presumably went his way and made something awesome with all of that wood.
* How have I not learned yet? In April 2007 I broke out rapping to Common and Kanye's "The Food" in the middle of the PN section of the HBLL right before finals week. Let's just say, people were not entertained, "I got two kids, but my baby mama late, uh oh uh oh uh oh, so I had to did, what I had to did..." Good times.
** Again, I probably could have told him that the kids say BFF and mean "best friends forever" but I let it slide because there are rules about these things.
As most of you know, I like disco far more than anyone should. (Especially anyone who wasn't alive and on mescaline or amyl during its heyday.) It is just so infectious and dancey, how can I resist but singing along? I didn't resist walking down the moulding aisle looking for a very specific piece we needed like 6" of (measuring before buying stuff is an important thing- just so you know.) As I searched (in vain) for this moulding, I sang along to Boogie Oogie Oogie*, the classic by Taste of Honey, apparently not as too-myself as I thought I was. A friendly man with one of those huge orange lumber carts totally full announced, "You don't know anything about that!" I was taken aback. Here I was, knowing all of the lyrics - clearly I felt I did in fact know something about that. He started laughing, "You're way too young! That was the year I graduated high school. " He then went on, "I was a group called the 'Boogie Nights' we played at [specific LA club] and [specific LA club] and the old [yet another specific LA club] at [insert intersection here]." As he rattled off these club names, I recognized one, but he clearly expected me to know all three of them, so I pretended I did. He even did a little dance like in the good old days. And he had some moves. I said, "Boogie Knights - like k-n-i-g-h-t's? That's an awesome name!" (Seriously though, such a good name.) He responded, "no, nights--like jousting." Here's where I should tell you that I feel like there are specific guidelines for interaction between young melanin-deficient blondes and older men (and women) of color. For example, even though he can tell you that you know nothing about disco despite the fact that one of your all-time favorite songs is "Native New Yorker," and you have an oft played playlist of about 150 songs called "disco inferno," you can't tell him that he's spelling knights incorrectly, especially when it is 35 years past the time when an editor would have come in handy. So I tabled my know-it-all-ness. (I should do this more often.)
I listened and was thoroughly entertained by him, when Natalie and her little boy found us. I asked him, (because his cart over-floweth with wood) if he was familiar with this section of the store and if he knew if there was any more moulding on another aisle. Natalie, kindly pointed out that he didn't work at the store. I said, "I know, but we're brand new BFFs." He laughed and said that I was his BFF and he was my BFM. We were a little confused until he explained, Best Friend Female and Best Friend Male.** He did help us try to find it, and pointed out an actual home depot employee who was less than helpful. In the end, we all said our goodbyes; we went to a Lowe's and then another Home Depot and finally found the moulding we needed, and my new BFM presumably went his way and made something awesome with all of that wood.
* How have I not learned yet? In April 2007 I broke out rapping to Common and Kanye's "The Food" in the middle of the PN section of the HBLL right before finals week. Let's just say, people were not entertained, "I got two kids, but my baby mama late, uh oh uh oh uh oh, so I had to did, what I had to did..." Good times.
** Again, I probably could have told him that the kids say BFF and mean "best friends forever" but I let it slide because there are rules about these things.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Compliments and the Unidimensional
In today's reality tv society where people are diminished to being one-dimensional caricatures of actual people, I find I am resentful when people think I am mono-dimensional. I know what you're thinking, 'old quick-to-judgment Molly is being more than a bit hypocritical.' But I have to say I really don't think people are only one thing or one way, (except for very few exceptions), I'm just not interested in seeing certain people's multi-faceted-ness. (In some cases, I'll make up elaborate back stories of people for my own amusement. Or I decide what a stranger's life must have been like and then chat them up to try to get as many details as possible to see how accurate I was. Both of these activities I have done since film school - it's a great activity, you should try it.) There is a bush and I am beating around it.
At church recently I was informed that I hated sports. I told the super-cute girl who suggested this that I was glad to have an attribute assigned to me like that and to have been informed of it. When she presented her evidence as being that I don't ever hang out or join in when people are playing sports at church*, I countered with, "I like music but that doesn't mean I'm going to listen to a middle school band perform just to hear some."
The other day, I got to spend some time with my three year old brother Isaac. During part of the time, he was playing with the four year old neighbor girl. Her mom came over after a few minutes, and we had a nice chat. The next day, I went again to my dad's house, this time to steal some tools and drop off the myriad of clamps I absconded away with, when my dad's neighbor's husband stopped me, "You know, [my wife] told me that you were really great with kids." This statement, meant as a compliment, was stripped of all of its good-intention before it even finished leaving this man's mouth because he said it with a tone of such complete awe and surprise - it was a concept he had never even begun to consider. To him, I am just Drew's sarcastic and liberal** daughter who only comes over to use power tools.
To these people, I would like to say: 1. I don't like sports as much as you do, as I would never play at church knowing that my nose could be broken, like yours was last week. And 2. compliments sound less like compliments the more surprised you sound, but no hard feelings, because I see you as my dad's talkative, uber-conservative neighbor who called me old. My, that kettle sure is black, isn't it!
*In actuality, I don't "hang out" or "join in" at church like....ever. It's not exclusive to sports.***
**Everyone is liberal compared to him.
***I actually feel like Mormons should not be allowed to play team sports like basketball because there are such high levels of competition that injuries and animosity always occur.
At church recently I was informed that I hated sports. I told the super-cute girl who suggested this that I was glad to have an attribute assigned to me like that and to have been informed of it. When she presented her evidence as being that I don't ever hang out or join in when people are playing sports at church*, I countered with, "I like music but that doesn't mean I'm going to listen to a middle school band perform just to hear some."
The other day, I got to spend some time with my three year old brother Isaac. During part of the time, he was playing with the four year old neighbor girl. Her mom came over after a few minutes, and we had a nice chat. The next day, I went again to my dad's house, this time to steal some tools and drop off the myriad of clamps I absconded away with, when my dad's neighbor's husband stopped me, "You know, [my wife] told me that you were really great with kids." This statement, meant as a compliment, was stripped of all of its good-intention before it even finished leaving this man's mouth because he said it with a tone of such complete awe and surprise - it was a concept he had never even begun to consider. To him, I am just Drew's sarcastic and liberal** daughter who only comes over to use power tools.
To these people, I would like to say: 1. I don't like sports as much as you do, as I would never play at church knowing that my nose could be broken, like yours was last week. And 2. compliments sound less like compliments the more surprised you sound, but no hard feelings, because I see you as my dad's talkative, uber-conservative neighbor who called me old. My, that kettle sure is black, isn't it!
*In actuality, I don't "hang out" or "join in" at church like....ever. It's not exclusive to sports.***
**Everyone is liberal compared to him.
***I actually feel like Mormons should not be allowed to play team sports like basketball because there are such high levels of competition that injuries and animosity always occur.
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