Seinfeld?
Ever feel like the powers that be have decided to play with your life just for the sake of entertainment? I think this is what's happening with me right about now.
In the last 7 days, something's gone off the mark in my world and has turned into what I think a Seinfeld episode might be about--from what I hear from other people since I've only watched the show a few times. I am a self-accepted pop culture moron who has been prohibited from discussing pop-culture anything when I go to LA out of respect for the people that really take this stuff seriously. (No, really).
I'm dividing up the incidents in question, so that I can try to give the reader the details. Read on, please.
Act I:
A few days ago, just before the restaurant opened, I munched on a small piece of a co-worker's chocolate chip cookie. Yes, I did know that there was an extra ingredient in that cookie, but I was focusing on the chocolate chips. I swear, I was! Plus I've eaten plenty of other special cookies and never experienced any side effects. It had always been just the cookie experience.... until this fateful day. I must say I was warned, but I've been warned in the past as well with no real reason. I just didn't take it seriously, which was the beginning of my problems.
About an hour later, as I was dutifully leading diners to their tables as the hostess of a fine dining establishment when it hit me, and it hit me hard. There I was in the middle of the dining area, when it felt like something popped in my brain. I was overwhelmed with this sensation throughout my body that I could only interpret as what one would feel just before fainting.
All I could think was "Oh my God! What if I fall flat on my face right here in the middle of all the guests?! What's going to happen after I'm out cold?"
I gathered all the strength I could muster up at that point and walked back up to the front of the restaurant, hoping no one was there waiting to be seated. I was on the brink of asking my manager to send me home sick when... tadum! I remembered that small bite of a chocolate chip cookie that I'd eaten hours before. There it was, folks. I was actually under the influence at work.
Now, what you don't know about me is that I hate being under the influence of most things. I hate losing full control of my body and mind. Can't stand it. Anytime in the past I've done anything, I've been annoyed to no end until the entire experience was over. I have no judgment on other people, I just can't deal with it myself--which is why I was horrified when I realized what was going on.
It's one thing to make that mistake at home or with friends, but totally another thing to be at work and have to talk to people as a part of my job, or talk to my manager even. I just wanted to wait it out alone and not speak to anyone.
Of course, within 20 minutes, someone walks in. Not to dine, mind you, but to talk with me. Someone I'd met last weekend at my coffee shop walked in with a friend of his to say hi to me (let's call them J and his friend N). And these two had a Seinfeldesque humor that I just didn't have the wits about me to participate in. So here I am, trapped, trying to converse, trying to seem normal, trying to be anything near what I'm usually like... and failing miserably.
It started out bad and got worse. J walks in with N. It takes me a minute to recognize J. Then J announces, "This is the Libyan N", but I didn't recognize N's name though I figured I was the supposed Libyan version of her. So I say, "Who is N? Should I know this name? At which point he says, "This is N" referring to his friend.
And there she was, this N, staring at me with wide eyes and an expression on her face that was nothing less than complete surprise and shock.
[Stoner thought process: Uhhhhhhh, I think she knows that something's wrong with me. She must know! Look at that face. Obviously she knows. What does he mean by coming in here and bringing his friend. Is she here to check me out for him? Is she his girl friend? Is he using me to play games with his girlfriend, when I just met him and have no interest in anything? Oh my God. What if he's interested, and that's why he stopped by. What do I do? What do I do?]
And there stands N. Looking at me. Expecting me to say something.
Eventually, we do get a conversation going...apparently J remembered something from our conversation at the coffee shop that he thought was hilarious. Now, the comment in itself isn't really funny, but I do remember him laughing at it a lot. But I also remember that he was the one that made the comment. I thought it was strange that he was laughing so much at his own comment at the time, so I remembered that it was his comment and not mine. Here's how it went down:
Conversation [Edited Version]:
J: I was telling N about what you said that was really hilarious. You know, the comment about no one living ON the tracks. You either had to be on one side or the other. It just cracked me up.
N: Yeah, he's been laughing about it all week.
J: Yeah, it was really funny.
Me: Uhhh...I realized you thought it was funny.
J: It was hilarious.
Me: But I wasn't the one that said that. I think it was actually you that came up with it.
J and N: [astonished]
J: No... did I? I could have sworn....
N: [still astonished]
Me: I'm pretty sure it was your comment. And I thought it was funny that you were cracking yourself up. But, yeah, I think it was your comment.
J and N: [looking at me like I'm crazy]
N: That's interesting. You know, we were just having a talk about J's narcisism actually.
J: I know! That's what makes it worse. Are you sure about this?
Me: [stoned, trying to be normal] I'm as sure as I can be.
[people walk in, wanting to be seated; I walk away; J and N continue their conversation about his narcisism and how it must control his memory]
[I return, resolved to be honest about the situation, and feeling like an ass-hole]
J: I just can't believe it. And this whole time I thought was you who said that.
Me: Sorry. I didn't mean for this to relate to any narcisism issues you're having...
Listen, I've gotta be honest here. I know I'm being weird, but this is the deal....
[N. continues to look at me like I'm a crack head asking her for a job while a needle is sticking out of my arm; J suddenly having to go have dinner, sympatheticly tells an anecdote of his worst date when he was in a similar state]
Me: [left to deal with the utterly pathetic words coming out of my mouth when ever my manager was near.]
Totally absurd experience. Never will a chocolate chip tempt me again, no matter how chocolaty or yummy it may appear.
Stay tuned for Act II of the Seinfeld invasion of my life.
Theme: Laundry room.
In the last 7 days, something's gone off the mark in my world and has turned into what I think a Seinfeld episode might be about--from what I hear from other people since I've only watched the show a few times. I am a self-accepted pop culture moron who has been prohibited from discussing pop-culture anything when I go to LA out of respect for the people that really take this stuff seriously. (No, really).
I'm dividing up the incidents in question, so that I can try to give the reader the details. Read on, please.
Act I:
A few days ago, just before the restaurant opened, I munched on a small piece of a co-worker's chocolate chip cookie. Yes, I did know that there was an extra ingredient in that cookie, but I was focusing on the chocolate chips. I swear, I was! Plus I've eaten plenty of other special cookies and never experienced any side effects. It had always been just the cookie experience.... until this fateful day. I must say I was warned, but I've been warned in the past as well with no real reason. I just didn't take it seriously, which was the beginning of my problems.
About an hour later, as I was dutifully leading diners to their tables as the hostess of a fine dining establishment when it hit me, and it hit me hard. There I was in the middle of the dining area, when it felt like something popped in my brain. I was overwhelmed with this sensation throughout my body that I could only interpret as what one would feel just before fainting.
All I could think was "Oh my God! What if I fall flat on my face right here in the middle of all the guests?! What's going to happen after I'm out cold?"
I gathered all the strength I could muster up at that point and walked back up to the front of the restaurant, hoping no one was there waiting to be seated. I was on the brink of asking my manager to send me home sick when... tadum! I remembered that small bite of a chocolate chip cookie that I'd eaten hours before. There it was, folks. I was actually under the influence at work.
Now, what you don't know about me is that I hate being under the influence of most things. I hate losing full control of my body and mind. Can't stand it. Anytime in the past I've done anything, I've been annoyed to no end until the entire experience was over. I have no judgment on other people, I just can't deal with it myself--which is why I was horrified when I realized what was going on.
It's one thing to make that mistake at home or with friends, but totally another thing to be at work and have to talk to people as a part of my job, or talk to my manager even. I just wanted to wait it out alone and not speak to anyone.
Of course, within 20 minutes, someone walks in. Not to dine, mind you, but to talk with me. Someone I'd met last weekend at my coffee shop walked in with a friend of his to say hi to me (let's call them J and his friend N). And these two had a Seinfeldesque humor that I just didn't have the wits about me to participate in. So here I am, trapped, trying to converse, trying to seem normal, trying to be anything near what I'm usually like... and failing miserably.
It started out bad and got worse. J walks in with N. It takes me a minute to recognize J. Then J announces, "This is the Libyan N", but I didn't recognize N's name though I figured I was the supposed Libyan version of her. So I say, "Who is N? Should I know this name? At which point he says, "This is N" referring to his friend.
And there she was, this N, staring at me with wide eyes and an expression on her face that was nothing less than complete surprise and shock.
[Stoner thought process: Uhhhhhhh, I think she knows that something's wrong with me. She must know! Look at that face. Obviously she knows. What does he mean by coming in here and bringing his friend. Is she here to check me out for him? Is she his girl friend? Is he using me to play games with his girlfriend, when I just met him and have no interest in anything? Oh my God. What if he's interested, and that's why he stopped by. What do I do? What do I do?]
And there stands N. Looking at me. Expecting me to say something.
Eventually, we do get a conversation going...apparently J remembered something from our conversation at the coffee shop that he thought was hilarious. Now, the comment in itself isn't really funny, but I do remember him laughing at it a lot. But I also remember that he was the one that made the comment. I thought it was strange that he was laughing so much at his own comment at the time, so I remembered that it was his comment and not mine. Here's how it went down:
Conversation [Edited Version]:
J: I was telling N about what you said that was really hilarious. You know, the comment about no one living ON the tracks. You either had to be on one side or the other. It just cracked me up.
N: Yeah, he's been laughing about it all week.
J: Yeah, it was really funny.
Me: Uhhh...I realized you thought it was funny.
J: It was hilarious.
Me: But I wasn't the one that said that. I think it was actually you that came up with it.
J and N: [astonished]
J: No... did I? I could have sworn....
N: [still astonished]
Me: I'm pretty sure it was your comment. And I thought it was funny that you were cracking yourself up. But, yeah, I think it was your comment.
J and N: [looking at me like I'm crazy]
N: That's interesting. You know, we were just having a talk about J's narcisism actually.
J: I know! That's what makes it worse. Are you sure about this?
Me: [stoned, trying to be normal] I'm as sure as I can be.
[people walk in, wanting to be seated; I walk away; J and N continue their conversation about his narcisism and how it must control his memory]
[I return, resolved to be honest about the situation, and feeling like an ass-hole]
J: I just can't believe it. And this whole time I thought was you who said that.
Me: Sorry. I didn't mean for this to relate to any narcisism issues you're having...
Listen, I've gotta be honest here. I know I'm being weird, but this is the deal....
[N. continues to look at me like I'm a crack head asking her for a job while a needle is sticking out of my arm; J suddenly having to go have dinner, sympatheticly tells an anecdote of his worst date when he was in a similar state]
Me: [left to deal with the utterly pathetic words coming out of my mouth when ever my manager was near.]
Totally absurd experience. Never will a chocolate chip tempt me again, no matter how chocolaty or yummy it may appear.
Stay tuned for Act II of the Seinfeld invasion of my life.
Theme: Laundry room.
posted by smokey spice at 1:17 AM
9 Comments:
Sorry, I didn't realize how long that post was. Hope you get to the end of it. If not, I understand.
Cheers.
Oh, the clothes are finished. But a neighborly rivalry may have begun.
I'll say it now: It was his fault. He broke laundry room etiquette at 11 pm. Not a good time to rub me the wrong way.
I'll look into whats-his-names post, though I doubt I'll be happy. NYTimes just wrote a feature piece in the travel section about Libya. Maybe I'll post it.
I checked out Trotten's post. To be honest, I'm not familiar with him as a journalist. Just at a glimpse, it seems he's mostly published in Glassman's Techcentral site--which I'd never heard of until you referred me to Trotten's blog. However, I've found him interesting so far. I'm relatively sure that he's as far right as I am left, but he does seem to at least think about what he's saying...at least so far.
I believe you were asking for my response to Trotten's post, which was a response to the NYTimes written by piece Wilkinson. I'll say one thing now, and leave the rest to a post that I'll dedicate to this subject.
I was raised in exile. I know better than Trotten can claim what the reality of the political situation in Libya is now and what it has been over the last 30 years. I also know that the US's history of promoting democracy and freedom has been a whole lot of hot air.
As for the NYT article, it was in the travel section, as he mentioned in his post.
More later.
you are so square. anyway, i find myself totally hillarious -- and i am not narcisistic.
You're totally narcistic. What do you mean?
narcisis fell in love with his own image. i think i am ugly. ugly ... but hillarious.
I think most people are the ideological equivalents of narcisis.
Aside from that...it's not a square thing my dear stoner buddy. It's just not my flavor. And I do turn retarded (assuming you don't already think that I am...)
actually, i think you are square by definition. you don't drink, and you don't do drugs. according to my definition, that makes you square. the truth is that being square is not that bad.
and i have never thought you were retarded. you do that enough for the both of us.
RO-FRICKIN-FL. (in case im the only loser who understands msn lingo that acronym meant ROLLING-ON-FRICKIN-FLOOR-LAUGHING) that was absolutely frickin hilarious. seriously funny. im sitting in a quiet library taking a break from studying and reading this and started laughing out loud so much so that people are giving me freakish looks. *breather* lol.
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