8 Short Intermezzos

One of our project managers came around the corner into my cube, holding the receptionist's wireless phone by the antenna. It was a perfect example of the "Ew, ick" hold: the lateral pinch between the very tips of two fingers, used most frequently on wings of dead insects, soiled jock straps, and dog toys.

"Here," she said, and put it on my desk.

I eyed it. "What?"

"I find it in the bathroom," she announced. "I am give it to you."

"Why me? I don't want it. Take it back to Toilet-Receptionist."

"No, I cannot finding her. I am give it to you."

Small pause. "Where exactly in the bathroom did you find it?"

The Project Manager made an odd gobbling noise and fled.

I filched some kleenex from a coworker and used it to herd the phone into my garbage can.

***

Me: "I'm going to make my vegetable stir-fry for dinner tomorrow. I'll need to get groceries after work."

The Guy: "....oh."

Me: "What?"

TG: "It's not really stir-fry when you make it, is it? It's more like . . . soup."

Me: "That's sauce."

TG: "Stir-fry is when you're actually frying."

Me: "There's oil. There's frying."

TG: "Yes, but when you add so much water to it that it actually covers the vegetables, that's not frying. That's boiling."

Me: "Hot oil is scary. It's being subdued. Besides, I'm using a wok."

TG: "Woks can be used for making soup, too. That's what you're doing, making soup."

Me: "No."

TG: "Are too. Proper stir-fry. . . "

Me: ". . . Are you saying you dislike my stir-fry?"

TG: "No, it's good, but it's not stir-fry."

Me: "See, this is where I stop listening to you."

TG: "Stir-fry should not contain more soup than food."

Me: "If I take off my glasses, everything goes fuzzy. It's like drugs, but cheaper."

***

I rolled into work after lunch on Thursday, starving and feeling remarkably self-satisfied. "I lost 2.4 pounds this week."

"Why're you still wearing a nametag?"

"Oh. I joined Weight Watchers. I had a meeting today. 2.4 pounds!"

My coworker looked wistful. "I wish I could lose 2.4 pounds. I wish I was as skinny as you."

I pointed out, "You're eight months pregnant."

"Good point."

"You know, that's the first time anybody's ever wished they were as skinny as I am."

"I'm eight months pregnant."

"It wasn't flattering, no."

***

TG: "Have you been watering this plant?"

Me: "I thought you were watering the plant."

TG: "I thought you were."

Me: "Is it dead?"

TG: "I'm . . . not sure. Your sister wouldn't be happy if we killed her plant."

Me: "She gave it to us. Tough cookies."

TG: "I think I've pinpointed why your plants keep dying."

Me: "Ungrateful bastards."

***

On Tue, 12 Aug 2003, sako hirata wrote:
wwwhen yu be home ttuesda or wdseday?
--

On Tue, 12 Aug 2003, Yuhri Hirata wrote:
Already home. Come pick up your beef jerky.
--

On Tue, 12 Aug 2003, sako hirata wrote:
comuter broen. cnt typ
--

On Tue, 12 Aug 2003, Yuhri Hirata wrote:
Freak.

***

Me: "Do I see a ring on this finger? I don't think so."

TG: "Heh. So you want to get married?"

Me: "Okay."

TG: "Cool."

***

The phone rang at work. I picked it up. "Hello?"

It was my sister on the other end. "I'm going to change my middle name," she announced cheerfully.

Her middle name is Paulina, an outre extension of my father's American nickname, "Paul." Most Americans had problems wrapping their tongues around his real name, Yoshihiko. Say it with me, folks. Yo-She-He-koh. Is that really that hard? But still. Paul. Paulina.

I didn't bother asking why. "Really?"

"It only costs $50, and a friend said he'd help pay for it."

"Really."

"Yeah."

"What're you going to change it to?" Jane, I thought, then rejected it. My sister's not a Jane. She's more of a--

"Sultasanagio."

***

Me: "Are we really going to do this?"

TG: "Yes."

Me: "You were serious?"

TG: "Yes."

Me: "That wasn't a joke?"

TG: "No."

Me: "Oh."

Pause.

Me: "We're really going to get married?"

TG: "Yes."

Me: "Cool."

TG: "Yay."

Me: "Where's my ring?"

Posted by yhirata at September 12, 2003 10:53 AM