Does This Outfit Make My Head Look Glove-ish?
Remember last year when that charming foreign fellow called me a doorstop? I still have no idea what he really meant by it, and it didn't sound too terribly friendly so I didn't try very hard to find out. I remain perplexed by that encounter. Perplexed, and possibly offended. Why am I bringing this up again? Well...
Today some other foreign fellow did the same damn thing. Only he didn't call me a doorstop. He called me a glovehead. A glovehead. I ask you... Really, I'm asking. What the bleeding Christ is a glovehead? I wasn't wearing a hat (or a fedora - just a fedora). My hair wasn't looking particularly glovely, to the best of my knowledge. My hair looked how it usually does - like hair. So I'm stumped. I'm assuming this guy was one of our charming neighbors to the north, because he had a French-ish accent. I'm guessing he's from Quebec. ("So last night I had this dream.") I only took a couple years of French in high school, and I pretty much skipped/slept my way through those classes. All I really know, beyond the basics, is that pineapples in France know how to talk and that creepy French dummies can skydive. Merci beaucoup, Telefrançais! Couragé, Mademoiselle Gill, couragé!
And I wasn't even doing anything when the guy called me a glovehead. I was waiting for Lexi by Fowles. Standing about. Twiddling my thumbs. Not in anybody's way. And Foreign Fellow #2 walked right up to me and began this:
F.F.#2: You...
Me: Yeah?
F.F.#2: Please.
Me: Err... What?
F.F.#2: Yes, now, please.
At this point, I thought he was asking me to move, so I stepped aside. It didn't work.
F.F.#2: No, here. You will see me.
Me: I'm seeing you. I'm not understanding you, but I'm seeing you.
F.F.#2: Yes.
Me: I. Don't. Understand. You.
F.F.#2: Here, now.
Me: Je ne parle pas français. Okay?
F.F.#2: No, it is now.
So, I took a stab at it and showed him my watch. "Now" is a time thing, right?
F.F.#2: No. Now.
Me: *blank stare*
F.F.#2: You are... You will... You will be glovehead! Glovehead!
Me: *blank stare* *eye twitch*
And then he stormed off. So now I'm going to be a glovehead, apparently. I wish I knew what that meant. I also wish I knew when I'm going to become this glovehead. I don't know. It just seems like something I might need to plan for.
Doorstop. Glovehead. At least "doorstop" is a real word. I have no idea what "glovehead" is code for. But I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like it any more than I would "doorstop" if I knew.
Today some other foreign fellow did the same damn thing. Only he didn't call me a doorstop. He called me a glovehead. A glovehead. I ask you... Really, I'm asking. What the bleeding Christ is a glovehead? I wasn't wearing a hat (or a fedora - just a fedora). My hair wasn't looking particularly glovely, to the best of my knowledge. My hair looked how it usually does - like hair. So I'm stumped. I'm assuming this guy was one of our charming neighbors to the north, because he had a French-ish accent. I'm guessing he's from Quebec. ("So last night I had this dream.") I only took a couple years of French in high school, and I pretty much skipped/slept my way through those classes. All I really know, beyond the basics, is that pineapples in France know how to talk and that creepy French dummies can skydive. Merci beaucoup, Telefrançais! Couragé, Mademoiselle Gill, couragé!
And I wasn't even doing anything when the guy called me a glovehead. I was waiting for Lexi by Fowles. Standing about. Twiddling my thumbs. Not in anybody's way. And Foreign Fellow #2 walked right up to me and began this:
F.F.#2: You...
Me: Yeah?
F.F.#2: Please.
Me: Err... What?
F.F.#2: Yes, now, please.
At this point, I thought he was asking me to move, so I stepped aside. It didn't work.
F.F.#2: No, here. You will see me.
Me: I'm seeing you. I'm not understanding you, but I'm seeing you.
F.F.#2: Yes.
Me: I. Don't. Understand. You.
F.F.#2: Here, now.
Me: Je ne parle pas français. Okay?
F.F.#2: No, it is now.
So, I took a stab at it and showed him my watch. "Now" is a time thing, right?
F.F.#2: No. Now.
Me: *blank stare*
F.F.#2: You are... You will... You will be glovehead! Glovehead!
Me: *blank stare* *eye twitch*
And then he stormed off. So now I'm going to be a glovehead, apparently. I wish I knew what that meant. I also wish I knew when I'm going to become this glovehead. I don't know. It just seems like something I might need to plan for.
Doorstop. Glovehead. At least "doorstop" is a real word. I have no idea what "glovehead" is code for. But I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like it any more than I would "doorstop" if I knew.