American Idle
There's this blonde woman about my age who goes to a local pub/restaraunt on the same night that I do. Without fail, she will strike up a casual conversation with me and then gradually start hitting on me. From there she goes into these long, egotistial spiels about her life which are puncuated every two or three minutes by vanity affirming rhetorical questions like "you think I could make it on American Idol, right?" or "so why would I work full-time when it won't help my career?"
Naturally, most people's instictual response to all of this would be to tell her to fuck off and/or start making fun of her. But, since I, for whatever reason, empathize with people's lost dreams, I just nod my head and act like any whim she has could magically become a reality with the snap of her nervous, shakey fingers.
Our one-way conversations are usually broken up into two subjects: 1.) her burning desire to make it as a pop singer and 2.) her extreme dissatisfaction with her job as a research interviewer at Nielsen Media Research, the T.V. ratings place. Subject Number One I don't mind hearing about; I've never dreamt of being a female pop singer, so I guess it's quasi-interesting to hear some maniac go off about how close (yet so far away) her Idol-inspired dreams seem. Number Two, however, I could do without. I actually worked at Nielsen's for over two years, and I realize how shitty it is. The only thing more tedious than rehashing my own stale hatred for that company is having to listen to someone less articulate (and possibly more crazy) than I am ramble on about it.
Now, here's the thing about this girl: 1.) she has a boyfriend and 2.) when she speaks, which is constantly, she spits on me. I don't really mind being a shoulder to cry on for a taken girl who I have no romantic shot with whatsoever (really, isn't this my lot in life?), HOWEVER, I do sort of mind having to continually wipe off the three or four pounds of saliva she leaves on my face during the course of our conversation. Put it this way: Imagine being slobbered on by the most annoying, sponge-lipped dog on earth, only that dog is a human, and it wants you to rate its Karoake version of "I Will Always Love You" on a scale of one to five...
So this brings up a dilemma: how do you really tell someone they spit when they talk? And do they even know how much they spit when they talk? I mean, how do you bring this up? "Hey, you're really talented and stuff, but did you know you spit all over me when you speak?" Is there really a polite way to address this issue without sounding rude or overly blunt?
I've tried to turn my head to the side when she talks, but this only makes me seem like I'm not paying attention to her. Plus, her spitting covers a pretty wide radius of space. Even if my t-zone isn't being splattered, I'm still catching her throat sprinkles on my check and neck. It's as if there is nothing I can do to escape her watery punishment.
Fed up, yet unwilling to directly address the issue, I came up with an alternate plan last night. Inspired by a horrific run-through of "Ice, Ice, Baby" performed by some retarded frat jock with a faux-hawk, I decided to ironically answer all of her questions in the form of Vanilla Ice lyrics. I contemplated using "Havin' A Roni", but realized if I was going to make up my own inside jokes, I should at least use a song popular enough for her to "get". I'm not sure what there was to "get", but for some reason it seemed like this was an ideal way to get her to stop talking and/or spitting on me.
"So, like, I have contacts with Disney, right?"
"Wax a chump like a candle," I say.
"What do you think I should do? Quit my job?"
"Cook M.C.'s like a pound of bacon," spoke I.
"I mean do you think I should quit my job and just persue singing full time?"
"I'm killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom," was my wise reply.
Anyways, it didn't work. She just looked at me weird and kept talking. Although she did stop asking me stupid, self-affirming questions. 20% win in my favor. The next time somone starts spitting on you as they detail their carear plans, contemplate using Arrested Development or Snow lyrics instead. Either way, the silent people will someday win the war against the loud.
Naturally, most people's instictual response to all of this would be to tell her to fuck off and/or start making fun of her. But, since I, for whatever reason, empathize with people's lost dreams, I just nod my head and act like any whim she has could magically become a reality with the snap of her nervous, shakey fingers.
Our one-way conversations are usually broken up into two subjects: 1.) her burning desire to make it as a pop singer and 2.) her extreme dissatisfaction with her job as a research interviewer at Nielsen Media Research, the T.V. ratings place. Subject Number One I don't mind hearing about; I've never dreamt of being a female pop singer, so I guess it's quasi-interesting to hear some maniac go off about how close (yet so far away) her Idol-inspired dreams seem. Number Two, however, I could do without. I actually worked at Nielsen's for over two years, and I realize how shitty it is. The only thing more tedious than rehashing my own stale hatred for that company is having to listen to someone less articulate (and possibly more crazy) than I am ramble on about it.
Now, here's the thing about this girl: 1.) she has a boyfriend and 2.) when she speaks, which is constantly, she spits on me. I don't really mind being a shoulder to cry on for a taken girl who I have no romantic shot with whatsoever (really, isn't this my lot in life?), HOWEVER, I do sort of mind having to continually wipe off the three or four pounds of saliva she leaves on my face during the course of our conversation. Put it this way: Imagine being slobbered on by the most annoying, sponge-lipped dog on earth, only that dog is a human, and it wants you to rate its Karoake version of "I Will Always Love You" on a scale of one to five...
So this brings up a dilemma: how do you really tell someone they spit when they talk? And do they even know how much they spit when they talk? I mean, how do you bring this up? "Hey, you're really talented and stuff, but did you know you spit all over me when you speak?" Is there really a polite way to address this issue without sounding rude or overly blunt?
I've tried to turn my head to the side when she talks, but this only makes me seem like I'm not paying attention to her. Plus, her spitting covers a pretty wide radius of space. Even if my t-zone isn't being splattered, I'm still catching her throat sprinkles on my check and neck. It's as if there is nothing I can do to escape her watery punishment.
Fed up, yet unwilling to directly address the issue, I came up with an alternate plan last night. Inspired by a horrific run-through of "Ice, Ice, Baby" performed by some retarded frat jock with a faux-hawk, I decided to ironically answer all of her questions in the form of Vanilla Ice lyrics. I contemplated using "Havin' A Roni", but realized if I was going to make up my own inside jokes, I should at least use a song popular enough for her to "get". I'm not sure what there was to "get", but for some reason it seemed like this was an ideal way to get her to stop talking and/or spitting on me.
"So, like, I have contacts with Disney, right?"
"Wax a chump like a candle," I say.
"What do you think I should do? Quit my job?"
"Cook M.C.'s like a pound of bacon," spoke I.
"I mean do you think I should quit my job and just persue singing full time?"
"I'm killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom," was my wise reply.
Anyways, it didn't work. She just looked at me weird and kept talking. Although she did stop asking me stupid, self-affirming questions. 20% win in my favor. The next time somone starts spitting on you as they detail their carear plans, contemplate using Arrested Development or Snow lyrics instead. Either way, the silent people will someday win the war against the loud.