convos with strangers

conversations with strangers #42

strangers? why i’m talking to them.

as i rolled down my window, the parking lot attendant leaned out his.

him: that’ll be $20.

me: *reaches for purse*

him: oh, you look just like that actress. you know the one.

me: *thinks to self, here we go.*

him: the one from my SUPER EX-GIRLFRIEND.

me: *thinks to self, that’s the movie he’s referencing?* and KILL BILL.

him: yes! what’s her name?

me: uma thurman.

him: YES! you look just like her.

R: *leans over from passenger side* she is uma thurman. can we get comped?

him: *laughs* nice try, but sorry, no.

me: *thinks to self if i was uma thurman, i’d certainly not bat an eyelash at a $20 parking charge. heck, i wouldn’t have to pay it because i wouldn’t be driving. i’d have a driver.*

R: *to me* ab, i got this. i have a declining balance with you. *to man* do you take credit cards?

him: yes.

*as he ran the credit card, i turned to R*: i’ve always thought uma thurman was really weird looking. i kind of hate that’s who everyone tells me i look like.

R: you definitely have similar features to her though. blonde hair.

me: a lot of people have blonde hair.

R: it’s your cheekbones.

me: she’s weird looking!

R: i agree. she is a little weird.

me: it’s equivalent of someone telling me i look like tori spelling.

R: NO. no. no. totally not the same thing. no.

him: here’s your card. the receipt’s on the bottom and the orange ticket on top needs to go on your dashboard.

me: got it, thanks.

and with that, we took our non-famous selves to our non-glamorous parking spot, but just then, we realized the other parking attendant had waited to make sure we had proper directions on how to get into the DCU center to see carrie underwood.

his kindness made us feel a bit like royalty.

in other news, why can’t someone tell me i look like carrie underwood? i’d consider that a compliment.

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convos with strangers

conversations with strangers #41

you’re not supposed to talk to strangers … but here’s why i am.

the (hilarious) talking portion of the evening ended and flowed into the signing part. we stepped and shuffled and looked around trying to figure out where the line began. all i knew is that i was at the back of it. i left my bag guarded by G and settled in to wait.

librarian: oh, maggie, we have a signing table over here for you.

and just like that, the end of the line became the beginning and i was the third person handed a post-it note with my (first) name on it. being #3 was good (not a long wait) and bad (i only had two people in front of me to figure out what to say).

let me illustrate via tweets (read from the bottom up) what was roughly going through my brain at this moment:

okay, so, that was me 2 hours before the event and now THERE WAS ONLY ONE PERSON in front of me before it was my turn. i still hadn’t decided what to say! holy cow it was my turn! so fast! be calm, mumford. be cool, mumford. stop grinning like a lunatic, mumford. get your head in the game, mumford.

me: hi.

maggie: how are you?

me: i’m good and you? *sheesh, could i have BEEN any more boring?* *say what you meant to say*

maggie: thanks for coming tonight.

maggie: *looked at post-it note with name on it* wait, abby mumford?

me: *eyes widened* *tongue dangled out of mouth**crickets chirped* *somehow nodded*

maggie: i recognized your eyeballs.

me: *slightly confused because, look again at my avatar. me = sunglasses and this was the only way she could have known of me* *went with it* hmm, well, yes, they are out. no sunglasses at night for me.

maggie: *signed page*

me: *quickly changed subject because the line is long and i had to say this* thank you for writing THE SCORPIO RACES. that book! oh. that book. *there were too many things to say about it and all the words tried to come out at once* *mumbled some plus she knew my name!* *stopped talking*

maggie: oh, what’s your favorite part?

me: when sean comes over for dinner.

maggie: and he brings the bread. yes! when there’s that line “you’re my weakness,” my husband told me “that’s the money shot.”

me: oh, that was a good one! *wanted to say more* *peered at loooong line behind me* well, thank you, maggie!

p.s. if i want to get technical, i suppose this post should be named conversations with acquaintances #1.

p.p.s. i can’t stop smiling.

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convos with strangers

conversations with strangers #40

i’m still attempting to talk to strangers … details on why.

it was a sunday afternoon and i was enjoying the benefits of a casual weekend dress code, i.e. i was wearing workout clothes since i had just done a neighborhood run ending at the grocery store which was next on my weekend to do list.

the line for the checkout was long and the cashier was quite chatty with each customer, but i was in no particular hurry.

the woman in front of me (to cashier): my, you’re a wonderful salesman.

cashier: *beams* thank you. i try.

off she went and on went my groceries to be scanned.

cashier (to me): hi. how are you?

me: *noticed he’s still beaming from previous customer’s compliment* i’m good. you?

cashier: fine, thanks.

he made some general remarks about my food purchases, but the rest of the transaction was smooth and painless. as i was loading up the bags onto my arms in preparation for the walk home, he flung out one last comment.

cashier: i just noticed your shirt. are you going professional?

me: *looks at t-shirt logo which says BWLA (boston women’s lacrosse association)* oh, no, this is from a summer pick up league. besides, there isn’t such a thing as professional women’s lacrosse.

cashier: oh, huh. well, could have fooled me.

me: *smiles* thanks!

cashier: have a good day.

me: thanks, you too.

off i went, bogged down by my weekly groceries and my sweaty workout clothes, not feeling particularly professional about anything, but delighted because someone thought i was.

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