January 22, 2010 3

Dumb diddy dumb

By in Griping, haha, work

Last night, on my way home from quilting class (which, just to be clear, I LOVE!), I was on the bus, headphones deep in my ears blaring Howard Stern when 2 LDS guys got on. I think, if I remember correctly, their names were Elder Brainwashed and Elder Superdoy. Anyway. One leaned towards me and said something that I couldn’t hear because Howard was in the middle of moderating an arguement between Bababooey and that filthy clown guy.  So I pulled a headphone out of one ear and asked him to repeat himself.

“Is that a bag?” he says, gesturing to my-get this-bag.

So I asked him to repeat himeself again and I guess I’d heard him right the first time.

“Is that a bag?”

How does one even answer the world’s stupidest question? It was very difficult to keep the sarcasm at a minimum.

“Yes” says I, slowly. “It IS a bag. I mean, my bag…it’s a bag.” Then I smiled kindly. That kind of dumb you don’t want to anger. Then I put my headphone back in my ear and turned away to discourage more silliness.

Fast forward 24 hours.

After work this evening I was on the subway, minding my own business, knitting and listening to Howard again. A man sits beside me-ok, not beside, but I was facing forward, he was facing sideways, so our knees were pretty much touching-and he’s eating out of a giant bag of movie popcorn. Watching me knit. Then he dropped a popcorn onto his coat without noticing and it tumbled down between us, maybe landing on my boot. No big deal. Then he speaks:

“I bet my popcorn bothers you!” in a playful way but as he says it, a piece flies OUT OF HIS MOUTH, landing on my purse.

It didn’t bother me at all until that exact moment. Thanks.

3 Responses to “Dumb diddy dumb”

  1. Steph says:

    Reminds me of a time I was on the bus and this guy’s lollipop fell out of his mouth and rolled under my shoe. I didn’t notice until he picked it back up and popped it into his mouth.

  2. Caitlin Jane says:

    Ok, Steph, that’s just gross!

  3. Laura says:

    Oh man. All your stories make me miss the awesomeness of living in Toronto.
    In small town England no one cares enough to spit popcorn on your boot.

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