i call jen my "GF." to me it's short-hand for "girlfriend," which you probably figured out all by yourself. what you may not have figured out is that my students routinely confront me with suspicious eyes. "I thought you said she was your fiance," they say. i nod and hem and haw. i mumble something about how, yeah, jen and i are making plans to marry, but neither of us has bought the other any kind of promisary ring, and jen told me she doesnt like being called my fiance unless there's a hard and fast date for our marriage set in some stone somewhere. so depending on how much of this i want to explain at the moment, i either end the discussion by mumbling something the students cant quite understand (you'd be surprised how often this works), or i'll charge cavalierly forward and say, "But yes, lads and lasses, of course I meant my fiance. We're going to be married the moment I graduate with my Master's. You're all invited."
i guess you could say im living a lie.
one time i did come clean, and i told them that the reason i dont call jen my fiance is because of that episode of Seinfeld where Elaine is stuck talking with some boring hag at a party, and the hag keeps saying, "Where is my fiance? I have lost my fiance." and Elaine says, "Maybe the dingo ate your baby," and it made me laugh until milk came out of my nose, and forever after that i felt like the stupid hag whenever i called someone "my fiance." they understood.
i've never heard myself referred to as anything in the workplace, so i cant contribute to that part of the conversation. one time someone told my students that im a hard teacher, so i called that person a jackbooted nazi and then we tussled on the floor a little while. eventually we made up, and the student realized that sure im a tough teacher, but im also fair, and i can handle myself in a streetfight, and that's the main thing.
kate, at copyworks one time i folded paper for like three straight hours. so i know your pain, is what im saying. it was a thin slice of hell, but eventually i entered this zen state where my hands moved of their own accord while my brain went somewhere far away, and then eventually ended up nowhere at all. when i came to all the paper was folded, and i had twisted some poor child that had wandered too close into uncomfortable contortions, and it was time to go home. did you find that zen place? if so, then maybe folding all that paper was worthwhile after all, grasshopper.
billyjoebob, would you go on jerry springer with me?
kate's mom: welcome. i dont want to sound ungrateful, but it's about freaking time.
posted by Paully at 11:33 PM link/comments
