Seeing Things
My glasses broke.
I lurve my glasses. They are purple cat-eye, hot librarian spectacles, and they instantly add 10 IQ points when I put them on.
Now, I look like a dweeb because one of the arm thingies broke off, and I have to wear them that way or else all of the words and numbers and words about numbers that I deal with go blurry. Then I get a headache and start hitting people.
(Hey! Totally unrelated picture of Queen Z and me at the happy hour dysfunction! Loverly!)
I was trying to figure what to do about the situation when our very wise security guard wandered by and sensed my distress. It always lifts my heart to hear the sweet lull of his African accent and his very dramatic prose.
"What is the matter going on here? You are breaking my heart. You are much too pretty to be upset."
I held up the two pieces of my eye glasses and gave him a frowny face.
"Ohhhhhhh. Yes that is very bad. Very bad, indeed. Terrible." As he looked around my office, he noted the exorbitant amount of naked baby pictures. "Your beautiful children? Such gifts they are to be treasured."
"Oh, no. Not mine. Now way. Nuh uh. Nieces and nephews."
He was dumbfounded that I wasn't married and/or knocked up. "Why? Why are you so alone in this world? We all need love."
"Um, yes, that's true, but I don't have any children because I don't even have a boyfriend, so it's not really ... um, an option because I'm not, uh, having ... I'm not sleeping wi ... making love to anyone."
"Well, perhapsing then you are a lesbian. That is okay [pronounced okee in the way that only gentle, foreign men can]."
"Well, perhapsing," I repeated. "Only part time," I wanted to say. "The hours are flexible, and though I don't get any benefits, the perks are amazing."
"No," he said. "That would be okee, but I am seeing you with lots of beautiful babies that come right from your body. You will find a prince, and he will will understand your body, and you will have good communication, and he will learn to please you in every way. He is a very sensitive lover, and soon you will be surrounded by babies and love. I am seeing this for you."
"Wow. You can see all of that? Are you sure?"
Now it was my turn to be dumbfounded, largely because of the whole baby business and because he had just alluded to me having orgasms. And lots of them. I don't know the proper etiquette for this situation--when a stranger foretells your future, and it includes a lot of good sex, does a simple "thank you" suffice, or should I have hugged him?
"Yes. And if you get yourself to the opera ... opthor ... optom ... the eye doctor to get your glasses fixed, you will be seeing these things too. Ha ha," he chuckled at his own joke.
Now, every iota in me believes in intuition and our abilities to sense and see things. I don't discount others' talent for prophecy, so I would just about ready to rethink my life plan when, as he turned to leave, the security guard bumped into the door. "Whoops. I was not seeing that there."
Mmm hmm.
In the Comments section, tell me if you see beautiful babies in my future. I was always a bit worried that, since my sisters' kids are all so lovely, I'd get stuck with the ugly one.
I lurve my glasses. They are purple cat-eye, hot librarian spectacles, and they instantly add 10 IQ points when I put them on.
Now, I look like a dweeb because one of the arm thingies broke off, and I have to wear them that way or else all of the words and numbers and words about numbers that I deal with go blurry. Then I get a headache and start hitting people.
(Hey! Totally unrelated picture of Queen Z and me at the happy hour dysfunction! Loverly!)
I was trying to figure what to do about the situation when our very wise security guard wandered by and sensed my distress. It always lifts my heart to hear the sweet lull of his African accent and his very dramatic prose.
"What is the matter going on here? You are breaking my heart. You are much too pretty to be upset."
I held up the two pieces of my eye glasses and gave him a frowny face.
"Ohhhhhhh. Yes that is very bad. Very bad, indeed. Terrible." As he looked around my office, he noted the exorbitant amount of naked baby pictures. "Your beautiful children? Such gifts they are to be treasured."
"Oh, no. Not mine. Now way. Nuh uh. Nieces and nephews."
He was dumbfounded that I wasn't married and/or knocked up. "Why? Why are you so alone in this world? We all need love."
"Um, yes, that's true, but I don't have any children because I don't even have a boyfriend, so it's not really ... um, an option because I'm not, uh, having ... I'm not sleeping wi ... making love to anyone."
"Well, perhapsing then you are a lesbian. That is okay [pronounced okee in the way that only gentle, foreign men can]."
"Well, perhapsing," I repeated. "Only part time," I wanted to say. "The hours are flexible, and though I don't get any benefits, the perks are amazing."
"No," he said. "That would be okee, but I am seeing you with lots of beautiful babies that come right from your body. You will find a prince, and he will will understand your body, and you will have good communication, and he will learn to please you in every way. He is a very sensitive lover, and soon you will be surrounded by babies and love. I am seeing this for you."
"Wow. You can see all of that? Are you sure?"
Now it was my turn to be dumbfounded, largely because of the whole baby business and because he had just alluded to me having orgasms. And lots of them. I don't know the proper etiquette for this situation--when a stranger foretells your future, and it includes a lot of good sex, does a simple "thank you" suffice, or should I have hugged him?
"Yes. And if you get yourself to the opera ... opthor ... optom ... the eye doctor to get your glasses fixed, you will be seeing these things too. Ha ha," he chuckled at his own joke.
Now, every iota in me believes in intuition and our abilities to sense and see things. I don't discount others' talent for prophecy, so I would just about ready to rethink my life plan when, as he turned to leave, the security guard bumped into the door. "Whoops. I was not seeing that there."
Mmm hmm.
In the Comments section, tell me if you see beautiful babies in my future. I was always a bit worried that, since my sisters' kids are all so lovely, I'd get stuck with the ugly one.
Labels: Charlie is snoring, have to pee, tomato soup, Well huh?
16 Comments:
At 7:40 AM , WanderingGirl said...
I think I'm seeing lovely babies from a father with a lovely African accent. He was working his mojo on you!!!!
At 7:54 AM , Average Jane said...
Nothing ugly could ever come from you. Your spirit is as beautiful as you are...
But your husband/lover/drunk hookup could really drag that down, so make sure you pick a stunner. =)
And thanks for the heads up on the security guard. I'll be sure to continue avoiding him. That's creepy, yo!
At 8:57 AM , M@ said...
I think our janitor has a crush on me.
At 8:59 AM , M@ said...
And, yes, I too "lurve" the photo of the beautiful Valerie w/ her friend Zina, the beautiful Indian Warrior Princess.
But PLEASE Val, re-post that photo of you playing guitar. I die every time I look at it!
(Next time we're out on the town, I'll try not to drag you down.) :)
At 9:07 AM , EsLocura said...
Pretty babies are just a fad, I would be more worried about the security guy. wonder if he will approve of your soon to be "maid job"
At 9:29 AM , Red Photography said...
Ew, violating. I would have punched him. Okay, not really. I would have recoiled in disgust, wanted to punch him, and instead would have said something snarky and he'd leave and we'd never again speak.
At 10:59 AM , mist1 said...
I have to go take my pill now.
At 11:36 AM , Dare said...
Perhaps the optometrist you are going to go see is a very hot, very single, very promising baby-daddy...who knows. Don't mess with the voodoo mojo of accented janitors. Just go with it.
At 2:06 PM , Lee said...
Hmmm...methinks you should watch that janitor fellow very carefully!
At 2:13 PM , you'dneverguess said...
You should know that I actually am psychic (dammit! should have been on my list of 10 weird things), and I see marginally attractive babies in the distant future. They could be yours, perhaps not coming directly from your body, per se, but marginally attractive nevertheless.
At 2:21 PM , M@ said...
*whispering*
I see dead babies.
At 2:35 PM , Spellbound said...
I promise that your babies will be beautiful, even if no one else sees them that way. Motherhood comes with rose colored glasses.
At 4:35 PM , Jon said...
Ahh.. the old "perhapsing you are a lesbian" pick-up line. I've used that one a million times.
At 8:57 PM , Dave said...
Valerie,
You're either very strong in math or your kids are going to play basketball when they reach middle school.
At 10:59 PM , Lee said...
matt - that was truly sick.
i'm ashamed i laughed.
At 11:26 PM , Anonymous said...
Gang, this girl is in super serious work mode. Blech. My apologies for the ensuing douchery that comes with being busy.
WG, it's never the ones we want, is it? He has a very bulbous nose.
Lisa Lisa, perhaps you missed the food poisening post, but I hate the break it to you, lovey--I'm not all sweetness and light. More like sweet pickles and Miller Light.
He totally does, Matty. Thanks for not harshing on my buzz, kid. You still have not explained WHY that picture moves you so much. It creeps me out just a schwee bit.
Es Locura, indeed. Puerto Rico is one step closer to his African roots. I think.
Kate, honey, that's what I USUALLY do, but the lawsuits got too expensive.
Mist, birth control makes me crazy. I can't take it. I do take zinc supplements though so my future children will have strong fingernails.
Thank you, AW. I knew there had to be someone else who understood not to tamper with magic of voodo and mojo.
Lee Baby, I don't want him to think I'm giving him the eyeball. Maybe I'll just watch him walk away.
I will take marginally attractive, Guess, provided they musically inclined and smell like raspberries.
Oh, my Mattress, this is frightening. perhapsing you should get YOUR prescription changed.
Spellbound, I would LIKE to think I'm a good enough person who would think her ugly babies were beautiful, but the truth is that I'm just too objective. Ugly is ugly, even if you love it.
Jon, it only works half the time for me. What are your odds?
Senor, not both? That hardly seems fair, given how perfect I am.
Lee Baby, I always check to see hho is around before I laugh at Matty's blog. Shallow is my middle name.
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