Conversation snippet

“Part of the beauty of Vancouver is all of the greenery”, said Maha.
“I agree! I think…I just LOVE the foilage in Vancouver. It’s so great, isn’t it?” said S.
“What?”
“I love the foilage here. It’s gorgeous.”
“And what colour would that foilage be?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…is it aluminum? Shiny silver, this foilage of which you speak.”
“The foilage. The foilage. The green around us.”
“It’s foliage.”
“Huh?”
“It’s foliage. It’s called foliage not foilage. I’m just bein’ an asshole, really…”
“Oh! Ha ha!! FOLIage. That’s right! FO-LEE-IDGE.”
“You call yourself a writer. You should be ashamed.”
“My word was nicer.”

(I love you half of KAWN!)

Not Lives of Girls and Women

I’ve just dined with Alice Munro. It was relatively quiet as I didn’t say one word and instead let her letters slip off the page and create for me an alternate universe.

Every once in a while, I would be pulled from her pages by the loud voices of two late 20-something young women seated at the table next to me.

“I was with David Friday night.”
“Whose David?”
“The guy I’m dating. He’s why I couldn’t see you Saturday. We spent Friday night together, went out for breakfast Saturday and rented movies and hung out with, like, his dog that night. It’s what we do…but it’s not a relationship. The sex is GREAT! And then there’s Andrew.”
“Whose Andrew?”
“The other guy I’m dating. He’s perfect. He’s a homeowner, he owns a vehicle and has an excellent job. He’s tall, too, and the sex with him is GREAT also.”

Pause. Check bberry. Look out window at protestors (Sri Lanka / tamil), and ask “who the fuck are they?”
“Who cares. They, like totally held up traffic last week. You’re in Canada! God. Get over it, right?”

Pause. Check bberry, then continue
“Anyway. So like whatever happened to Mikey?”
“Sex with Mikey is even MORE awesome. I’m seeing him tonight.”

Pause. Check bberry, then yell “WHAT!”
“Omg what’s wrong?”
“READ!”
“Omg. Mikey has a girlfriend?”
“Yeah!”
“You’re, like, The Other Woman. That’s slammin’ cool.”
“And he’s breaking up with her. Right. Now!”
“Awesomeness. You’re a rockstar!”
“To the max, yo. I’m totally updating my FaceBook status to tell everyone about this…f*ck YEAH!!”

Droooooooone.
Focus on white tuna.
White noiiiiiiiiise.
Your daughters will not be like this.
Ugggggggggggh.
Tataki. Tataki. Tataki.
Huuuuuuuuuurrl.

I hate girls.
Also, I wish to run into the hills and hide.

Snippet

Walking along Bloor on Saturday, I was approached by two young men, one of whom stopped in front of me and asked: “How are you today, ma’am.”
I turned to look behind me in search of “ma’am”, only to discover she was I.

“I’m well thanks. How are you?”
“I’m very good. If you have a moment, I’d like to tell you how The Book of Mormon brought me closer to Jesus Christ…”
“Actually. I’d love to hear about that – and then I’ll share with you how The Quran brought me closer to Jesus Christ. Oh! We can share and compare. It’ll be fun.”
…blank stare, then: “Well, okay, you have a good day ma’am”, and off trotted the two little Mormon boys in their black suits and black back-packs, so I sincerely asked “you don’t want to share?”, to which the other Mormon boy responded with “Is there anything else we can do for you today, ma’am?” as they continued on their way.
“No. I guess not. But maybe you could stop calling me ma’am…?”
“Good-bye, lady.”
“Good-bye, young Mormon. Muslims love Jesus…”

Please feel free to consider me your own personal amuse-bouche.

Conversations With Little People

“Hi, you’ve reached Cleo, Dane, Nora May & Trent. We can’t take your call right now, so please leave a message and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.”

“Hey Cleo. It’s Maha. I just got your email – I was out of town this weekend, but I’m home all week and would love to come by on Thursday night. I’ll pick something up on the way over and we can watch Grey’s…”

click

“Ello?”

“Hello Trenty.”

“ELLO.”

“How are you?”

“I GOO.”

“Good! Me, too. What are you doing?”

“I PLAYEEN.”

“How fun! Are you enjoying having mommy around over the holidays?”

“YEA.”

click

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Hi Nora May. It’s Maha.”

“Oh. Hi Maha.”

“Hi honey. How are you?”

“I’m good. We’re playing.”

“That’s great. Is mommy around?”

“She’s taken a shower. Please leave a message.”

“Should I call back?”

“No, Maha. Please leave a message.” (With the clear inflection that she thinks I must be a little slow in the head to ask such a foolish question.)

“Uhm. With you?”

“Yes please.”

“Ok. Will you please tell her I called and that I will see her on Thursday.”

“Yes, okay. Goodbye.”

click

Kids amaze me.
I wish adults were as honest as them.

On: Not speaking in either the past unreal conditional or the future unreal conditional (as present tense is best)

The following is a conversation I had with a friend on The Face; I have deleted her name for reasons of privacy. So as to facilitate your reading of this, please note that I am the one who begins this conversation.

Rather than writing about my feelings on the subject matter of how we are expected and scripted to react to certain situations, I thought that I would, for this once, allow you to understand my perspective through my idiotic blather quick witted communication skills familiar only to my closest friends.

Or, you could save yourself the trouble and merely deduce from the subject title of this entry.
Either way, enjoy…

Support and love from friends…

M: “Uhmmmm. HEY! So…uhm…I was wondering if you could help me figure something out, yeah?”
T: “Sure. What is it? I’m about to blowdry my hair, but ok…”
M: “Well. So…I was trying to figure out what this song was and I just. I can’t.”
T: “What’ve you got?”
M: “….”
T: “Maha?”
M: “Yeah!”
T: “What do you remember from the song?”
M: “…it’s kind of lame…”
T: “SERIOUSLY. COME ON.”
M: “Jungle night. Jungle bright. GimmeTheOthernaNananananaNAnanananaNaOhoohooohoohohohohohohohohohhohhhhhhh Night’sTheNight GimmeTheOtherGimmeTheOther…OR SOMETHING. I can’t sing. You know that.”
T: “Jesus that was bad. OH MY GOD WAIT! I KNOW IT!”
M: “Are you lying?”
T: “No…no…I know that ohohohohohohohohohohhhoohohohohohohoh“
M: “It’s from the 80s I think? I think I was, like, ten years old or something…I’ve googled all kinds of different lyrics but nothing…”
T: “Yes! OH! I just heard it in the gym the other day…but I don’t think it’s jungle light. Try: ‘in the night’.”
M: “No, I don’t think that’s it.”
T: “Just try it.”
M: “K.”
T: “Ohohohohohohohohohohohohoh Night’sTheNight…. I love that song.”
M: “You didn’t even know it before two seconds ago, dude.”
T: “Still. It’s awesome.”
M: “Oh! I found it! OMG. It’s called Tarzan Boy by some group called…Balteeemore-ah. This is so great, thank you! I’m gonna buy this right now…I’m so excited. You know what I love about iTunes? I love that it tells you what people who bought this song…what else they’ve also bought! I’m sure I’ll find a lot of really great 80s son…oh wow…oh…”
T: “What?”
M: “Nothing. You should probably get to your hair.”
T: “WHAT?”
M: “…………………….no one else has ever bought this song.”
T: “AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAA.”
M: “I’M A TRAILBLAZER. Go blow dry yer god damn hair, already.”
T: “aaaaaahhhhhhhhhaaaaaaahhhhhh-tone…………..”

Conversation snippet

Maha: “Are you going to eat that lemon on your cola, ‘cus if you’re not, then can I have it?”
T: “GOD NO! I watched a show on lemons and they’re completely covered in e.coli and disgusting bacteria and people pick them up and drop them in the washrooms and on floors and restaurants never wash them because they’re covered in a peel! There are so many horrible diseases you can catch from lemons, it’s amazing and really sort of UGH just gross and filthy I can’t even see one without thinking about disease and it’s almost touching my cola! GROSS!”

(pause)

Maha: “So. Uhm…are you going to eat that lemon, ‘cus if you’re not…”
T: “Just take the damn lemon, already.”
Maha: “yay. shhh.”

One of life’s great mysteries…

Does anyone know what a ‘post doc’ is? I’d never thought about it until New Year’s Eve when the following conversation flowed around our table (performing a slow and quiet interpretive dance):

D: “…blablabla…working on their post doc.”
Maha: “What is that, anyway?”
D: “What?”
Maha: “A ‘post doc’?”
D: “Something to do with their PhD?”
P: “Isn’t it work done post your doctorate?”

(silence)

Maha: “Do they get letters?”

(silence)

Maha: “You know, letters. Like, with their name? Like an ‘M.A.’ or a ‘Dr’?”
P: “I don’t think so, Maha…”
Maha: “Oh. Well. That sort of sucks; They really should consider at least giving them one extra letter. And if not, then they should make it a PhD².”

So…uhm…any of you know what a post doc amounts to? (I’m too floppy to Wiki as I’ve just come home from yoga.)

Conversations with little girls

This is Deema, my baby cousin aged 12. Last night, we had the following conversation that very nearly made me pee in my pants…

Deema: Maha, I need to ask you a question.
Maha: Okay, habibti, what is it?
D: It’s personal, though?
M: Okay, go ahead – you should know that you can ask me anything you want to – there’s nothing that’s too personal.
D: Uhm. Okay. So. Uhm. Ahem – ahem.
M: Deema, just ask it.
D: Okay. WHEN DID YOU GET ARMPIT HAIR?
M: What?
D: Oh my GOD. SEE! It’s too personal. I KNEW IT! Why are you laughing? Are you laughing at me?
M: NO! Nothing is too personal, and to answer your question, I was thirteen.
D: I’m almost 13! WHY DON’T I HAVE ANY? I WANT ARMPIT HAIR!
M: You’ll get it when you get your period.
D: DUDE! Who said anything about my period? I’m talking about armpit hair!
M: Deema. It’s all or nothing.
D: That’s so gross. I just want my armpit hair.
M: Why do you want armpit hair, tayeb?
D: Because I want to start buying and using deodorant. I REALLY WANT TO BE ABLE TO BUY IT! I LOVE THE WAY IT SMELLS! AND I LOVE THE WAY YOU HAVE TO APPLY IT! (silence) My period, eh?
M: Yup.
D: Hmph. That seems really unfortunate. (and with full drawl of sarcasm) You know, I don’t think it’s very appropriate that you’re laughing at me.
M: You have the most sarcastic sense of humor, ya Damdooma!
D: If I knew what that word meant: ‘sarcastic’, I’d offer you a reaction.
M: AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!
D: When you’re done laughing, missy, come and find me in the living room. (muttering to herself) Crazy woman! – that’s what happens when you get your period.

I took her ‘shopping’ for deodorant this morning. (I believe she’s already used up half of it.)

Dispatch no 2, Toronto: The Arrival

“Look outside, pretty lady! I*m standing directly across from no 8 price street! ”

To which, in response, Baby Jane flew out of no 8 Price Street’s doors and ran across the street without looking both ways. I’d barely had time to put my mobile back in my pocket, reapply the lip glass, and button my coat before a blur of blonde was running toward me.

She was as breathtaking then as she’d always been and it felt like coming home when I saw her smile, my Baby Jane.

By the time we’d made it up to her second floor office, we’d discussed her wardrobe crisis that morning, my new Crack, my flight, her new office digs and former boss.

Within 10 minutes of being in her office, the following ensued, which serves as the end of this Dispatch from Tee-Off.

“chatter chatter chatter”
“CHATTER CHATTER chatter chatter CHATTER”
“Chatter?”
“CHA. TTER!“
“xyz abc 123″
“chatter!”
“def 456 i like coffee.”
“Wait, Maha, you’re all over the place – wait – I have to finish this story. Chatter.”
“…chatterchatterchatter…?”
“LOL!! OK, I forgot what I was saying! OH! CHATTER! CHATTER CHATTER!”
“abc.”
“LOL!”
“LOL! Maybe I should go. I’m too excited! What if you can’t do any work after I leave?”
“Maybe you should go – I’m turning into a Mexican Jumping Bean. There’s too much energy. Do you like my wall?”
“I LOVE IT! MaybeIShouldGoMaybeI’llWalkAroundAndSeeWhere’sMuch?CanIShop?WhenShouldIBeBack?Where’sBonnie?WhoseMaryEllen?”
“Yes! OHMYGODIDon’tKnowIfI’llBeAbleToGetAnyWorkDoneNow. HoltzIsRightDownTheStreet. GoAndBuySTUFF. 5O’clockSharp. She’sStillAtLunch. MyMother.”
“YourMother’sNameIsMaryEllen?”
“Yes.”
“IAlwaysJustThoughtSheWasMUMWhoKnewSheHadAName.”
“MEXICANJUMPINGBEAN! DoYouWantToGoOutTonight? OurNameIsOnTheListOfAReallyExclusiveClub.”
“I’llDoAnything.”
“Anything?”
“Anything!”

…and then I flew out of Janey’s window and landed in Holt Renfrew.

Stay tuned for more Baby Jane & Mahi Mahi Dispatches from Tee-Off.

(Psst! I’ll be blogging about Toronto in little pieces during the coming weeks because there’s simply too much to tell in one stream…)