the worst show on tv

I don't like scary movies. I don't like ghosts or murderers, and I really hate invisible people. But I think the absolute most terrifying thing on television is I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. I hate it, and sometimes I watch it. I think I'm equally intrigued by the bizarre plot lines and the reenactment format. It's like some really boring improv exercise where one person describes eating a lot of green apples and throwing up while someone who looks kind of like her acts it out.

So, it's scary because you can be pregnant and not know it until a baby comes ripping out of you even if you are skinny and have your period and never want to eat pickles and ice cream together. (But, seriously, if you've been having a lot of back pain and have been wanting to eat a lot of tacos, you should probably see your doctor before you reach down to find a person coming out of your crotch. That is what I learned from The Learning Channel.)

But the scariest part would be the explaining. Like, what if you were at brunch with your friend and you just thought you had to poop but then you had a baby in a public restroom and had to explain to your friend where you got that gross naked baby. And then you'd have to call your parents, who might be upset but would probably just be confused. And then you'd have to pretend that everything was normal and put some pictures on facebook and pretend that, oh, everyone just wasn't paying attention, you were pregnant all along, and of course you didn't have a baby at brunch and think it was a poop.

TLC, I did not need another thing to worry about. I should put a lock on that show, except I don't know how to work my television. (Three remotes!)

perfect strangers

It suddenly occurred to me that just because they are two of my favorite people doesn’t mean that they want to spend this much time with each other. Dinner followed directly by brunch the next morning might have been a bit much to ask of near strangers.

The thought dawns as my mom and I approach Ted on the sidewalk in front of one of Ted’s and my favorite brunch places (the name of which I will omit only because I dread the day we have to wait for a table).

But they laugh and smile and this all seems too easy. I’m not used to caring much, but this seems to matter, and I’m not even nervous. Wow, I love french toast.

He walked us to the train, and I even held his hand.

~beatrix

we talk so much

I realized, when Ted and I were buying some books from a taciturn man behind a counter, that the two of us might be too chatty for New York.

A waitress will ask how things are, expecting a “Fine thanks.” or a “Can we get more water and another fork?”, but instead she gets something more like this:

“Oh, it’s fantastic. This French toast is delicious.”
“How long has this place been open? This location is great.”
“Can I have a little more coffee. But only a little because if I drink too much I’ll be jittery and I can only have anxiety or coffee. . . one or the other.”
“I really like this.”
“I really like these cups. I really like your haircut.”

So today, at a festival in the park, we made a friend who was almost as chatty as we are. He was working at a non-profit’s booth, and I can’t remember who started it, but the boys talked about baseball and basketball, then we all talked about college and barbeque and when was the last time we ate a hushpuppy. I really liked his glasses. He and Ted exchanged cards, and somehow, I think we might actually hear from him.

We were only steps away when Ted said, “Maybe we should set him up with Sam!”
“That’s what I was thinking!”
“No, my Sam.”
“No, my Sam. Your Sam is a vegan, and this guy doesn’t want to date him just like my Sam doesn’t want to. No one can be happy without cheese and butter.”


~beatrix