Category Archives: Being Awkward/Dumb Stuff I Do

My Super Gives Me An Unsolicited Lesson In Perspective

I opened my door to throw something in the trash chute, and happened to see my super in the hallway, so I asked him to come take a look at something for me. I showed him this:

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Super (staring at tub): “Ok, what is problem?”
Me: “Oh? Really? I thought this was self-explanatory. But ok. The problem is that my water is brown.”
Super (no reaction): “Ok…”
Me: “Alright, let me try again. My water is brown and I would like it to not be brown.”
Super: “This is the problem?”
Me: “Yes. I have the flu. I’d like to take a shower. I can’t shower in brown water.”
Super: “You know the old man in 11F?”
Me: “No…”
Super: “He died today. THAT is a problem.”

Look, I’m very sorry to hear that. But your condescending tone is a little unfair and totally undeserved.

Also– can I use his shower?

Your ONE Job

As a cab driver, your ONE job is to take me to the place I ask to go. You pick me up, I request a location, and then you get me to that place. Literally, that is your ENTIRE job description.

So, sir, the next time you pick me up in the middle of a snowstorm and ask me “Where to?” and I once again answer, “A place where winter doesn’t exist,” don’t just sit there like you’re confused.

Actually DO IT.

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No One Ever Regrets Striking Up Conversation With Me

Sitting here at DTUT coffee shop, sharing a small couch space with a stranger. Standard NYC Sunday. He is reading a very thick, distinguished looking book. I am reading my computer screen.

He glances at my screen, laughs, and says:

Guy: “Well that looks like something that will make someone dumber after reading it.”
Me: “It’s my blog.”
Guy: “Oh, shit. Sorry…”
Me: “No, it’s fine. You’re not wrong. You’re also now the star of my next post.”
Guy: “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that…”

Oh. I don’t care.

He TOTALLY Gets Me

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That moment on a first date when you think you’re totally connecting with him…

Him: “I can’t get any work or writing done in my apartment.”
Me: “Same here! Totally. I can’t concentrate at all in my apartment.”
Him: “Exactly. It’s impossible.”
Me (certain we are on the exact same wavelength): “Right? Because I’ll just look up and see something and be like ‘Oh, I need to clean that.’ Or ‘Yikes, I should mail that bill’ Or ‘Why do I have nothing in my fridge?'”
Him: “Oh. I don’t do THAT. I just get distracted by more fun or interesting things to do.”
Me: “Oh.”
Him: “That’s some serious masochistic behavior.”
Me: “Is it?”
Him: “Yeah. You’re really beating yourself up.”
Me: “Alright, it’s not that bad.”
Him: “It sounds like you have an anxiety disorder.”

He hasn’t called.

Lessons I Learn in the Elevator

When your neighbor politely asks how you’re doing, don’t respond by telling him you’re having post-vacation anxiety and that you suspect you might have pink eye.

Your neighbor is not your therapist. Or your friend. Or, based on his reaction just now, someone who even remotely cares about you.

Try “Fine, thanks.” The old fine-thanks never landed anyone on the “do not talk to” list.

Although come to think of it, that’s a list I’d love to be on today. Maybe I’ll tell the kids I have pink eye.

Oh wait. Kids love things that are gross.

I can’t win.

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