it seems natural that i clean the porch, take out the garbage, take a shower, read, make dinner and watch arrested development in bed.
what i should be doing tonight: going to the dry cleaners, fedex, currency exchange, the live/work space i’m writing about, transcribing interviews, writing my freelance story, etc.
somehow, i don’t feel the slightest bit guilty, which seems rather telling. i’m happy.
it’s tuesday. i’m insanely broke. not in a i-can-still-eat-i-just-can’t-go-out-kind-of-way. no. i am broke, as in i have been skipping meals because i simply can’t afford to eat and ride the train to get to work. adorable, right? it’s like i have “talk to me because i’m stoked to be alive” tattooed on my face. NO!
i’ll back up a tiny bit. a fellow co-worker walks into the room and says “there’s a free ice cream social in the lobby downstairs!” i say “cool” and don’t look up from my computer. i probably sound/look like a bitch. in my head, i’m thinking “LUNCH LUNCH LUNCH LUNCH LUNCH!!!” and for some reason i express it a few seconds later realizing my reaction was kind of weak “yeah, that’ll be good, it’ll be my lunch since i’m so broke…” she shoots me a puzzled look, and giggles nervously. the same girl who, while in a conversation about our checks arriving very late, says something like “ohh yaaaa i guess i haven’t, like, gotten my check but i didn’t know what to do or, like, who to talk to, or whatever.” WHAT?! HOW????? i bought bagels from WALGREENS!!! because that’s all i could afford for breakfast, lunch and dinner the other day. i FINISHED the plastic bag (yes, they come in a plastic bag! yes, they’re awful!) of bagels in 2 days!!! i hate you for life, fellow co-worker.
anyway, now i’m in the lobby and i get the butter pecan ice cream. i find a nice spot next to the stairs and sit down. i’m minding my own business, enjoying my fattening lunch, when this guy sitting near me suddenly asks “are you jewish?”
it takes a lot of effort to look up from my ice cream, as the question is utterly ridiculous and most of all i do not want to talk to strangers right now! like not even a little fucking bit. but, of course, i say “yes…” and follow it up with, “why do you ask?”
he says “oh, you look jewish” BURN! huge fucking burn. my nose is not big! i hate you, strange guy. he does not look homeless nor does he look like he works in any of the surrounding office buildings but he says, “yeah, i’m reading Jewish World News” and he shows me the cover. “…great” i say. i literally say “great.” like a fucking bitch, i say great. because what is the difference, honestly? i don’t want to talk to him, i don’t want people to ask me if i look jewish, i want to eat my free ice cream in SILENCE! dear god, is that so much to ask?
then he asks me who i work for in the building. i respond, begrudgingly, and he says something about knowing a jewish lawyer who works in my building. while this is happening, i make sure not to really look at him because i don’t want to continue a conversation i did not even fucking agree or want to be a part of in the first place.
here comes the real kicker, though. “do you know what a mitzvah is?” he asks.
yes, yes i do, sir. it’s when you do something good for someone else. it’s when you act selflessly. it’s some sort of worthy deed. i am not a practicing jew, but i know where the fuck this is going.
“so if you get me a black raspberry ice cream in there, that would be a mitzvah,” he says. i awkwardly reply, “i…um don’t think they’ll want me to get a second one.”
“they’ll be fine. they don’t care,” he says. so i do it, mainly because once i get it, i know that i can go find another place to sit where no one will bother me. when i come back to hand him his ice cream, i say “your welcome” before he can even utter “thank you,” which may have thrown him off since he does not even start to say thank you. instead, he accepts it while he’s talking to a young blonde guy who’s smiling and looks like he works in the building. he’s probably sympathizing with the guy. he probably finds him charming. i hate mr. blondes for this.
i didn’t find out whether or not mr. blondes got him ice cream or not since i walked away immediately. but after running into walgreens, and coming back to the stairs outside my building, i found a spot to sit on the opposite side of where this encounter occurred. sure enough, he was still there. this time, he was literally watching the people in the glass building standing right outside the door. from up close, i hated every ounce of his being. somehow, from far away he looked really sad.
as i watched him watch other people, likely trying to spot his next victim, i felt less anger than i did emptiness.
i’m working in a nice building. i’m whining about eating ice cream in peace, and my paycheck being late, which i’ll inevitably get. he doesn’t look homeless, but he sure does not look like he works in the JUF building like he said.
so, what’s the moral here, you might ask. do i feel guilty? not completely, no. do i feel justified in acting kind of mean while doing it? not completely, no. despite my bad attitude, i did get him the ice cream after all.
what i did learn, however, is that anytime you want something from a stranger with dark features, ask her if she’s jewish, and then ask her if she knows what a mitzvah is. you’ll probably get what you want from her even if she temporarily hates you for it, and then after she gets it she’ll probably find a new place to sit in order to stare at you from afar for 15 minutes while she psychoanalyzes herself.
1. “this would be the biggest mistake in….bachelor pad history!!!!!!” - the wrestler (this is the second season of bachelor pad)
2. “what did the trojans do?” - jake
“ummm, they showed up in an elephant…” -gia
1. i hate every article of clothing i own! what do i do???????
2. italian ice from miko’s is delightful.
3. door county is very pretty. i went to a wedding this past weekend with dear friends, and there was a lot of drinking and dancing and friendshipping. there will be pix to follow.
