On that note, I hate the word knapsack.
I've been cleaning out my work e-mail, which is taking forever because there are literally thousands of them, both personal and work-related. The good thing is, they are in large part hysterical, and they also serve as a journal of my life so I don't have to keep one on its own. The bad thing is, there are thousands of them.
I found this one, which I enjoyed and thought I'd share with you. I sent it to myself on October 23, 2007, just after I'd gotten off the train and came into the office. The subject line is "Oogy couple." For very obvious reasons, I wanted to remember these people.
She has a long skirt on and is carrying an oversize orange leather shoulder bag, one that doesn't look like there's much in it. He's wearing a leather jacket slung over his shoulders, but his arms aren't in it. He's wearing black and blue checked cotton wrestler pants, but he's slight and older, and he's carrying a backpack. She asks him, "Do you want to hold this?" He asks her to repeat. She holds out her jacket. "This is heavy. Do you want to hold this? Do you want to put it in your knapsack?"
Um, duh.
He says, "Well, no, I don't want to, but you're asking me to, so I will." He keeps saying he doesn't want to but he will. She passes it over. I look up. It's a jean jacket. She's carrying a giant heavy shoulder bag but won't carry her jean jacket. He seems to despise her.
We get on the train. There are only single seats scattered here and there. She sits in an end seat, and he sits next to me across the way. There's plenty of room, but he sits practically on top of me, and his leather jacket is poking me. He crosses his legs and starts grading English essays. He smells like glue.
I found this one, which I enjoyed and thought I'd share with you. I sent it to myself on October 23, 2007, just after I'd gotten off the train and came into the office. The subject line is "Oogy couple." For very obvious reasons, I wanted to remember these people.
She has a long skirt on and is carrying an oversize orange leather shoulder bag, one that doesn't look like there's much in it. He's wearing a leather jacket slung over his shoulders, but his arms aren't in it. He's wearing black and blue checked cotton wrestler pants, but he's slight and older, and he's carrying a backpack. She asks him, "Do you want to hold this?" He asks her to repeat. She holds out her jacket. "This is heavy. Do you want to hold this? Do you want to put it in your knapsack?"
Um, duh.
He says, "Well, no, I don't want to, but you're asking me to, so I will." He keeps saying he doesn't want to but he will. She passes it over. I look up. It's a jean jacket. She's carrying a giant heavy shoulder bag but won't carry her jean jacket. He seems to despise her.
We get on the train. There are only single seats scattered here and there. She sits in an end seat, and he sits next to me across the way. There's plenty of room, but he sits practically on top of me, and his leather jacket is poking me. He crosses his legs and starts grading English essays. He smells like glue.
Labels: eavesdroppings, New York, work
posted by Marla at 3:57 PM
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