Wednesday, September 23, 2009People in the department cheer and clap. They're applauding for the head of our company who's paying us a visit today. As the applause dies down, M. walks to her desk. She hold out her hands and says:
M: "Thank you. Oh, thank you. Yes, I am here. It's true. Here I am. Please stop, thank you."
J: "Were all those people clapping for you?"
M: "Didn't you hear?"
J: "Yes, in fact I heard the applause and instantly thought, M. must be here!' Did you give them all high-fives as you walked in?"
M: "I did. All these guys were lined up in the hall. I said, Hey guys, are you here for me? Nooo..."
She closes her eyes, leans her head back, and twirls around in her chair with her shoulders all scrunched up.
Last night a friend asked me if M. is really as crazy as she sounds. The truth is, she is EVEN MORE crazy in real life. I have a hard time keeping up with her, she's always got something funny to say, or a weird voice to use, or some hilarious dance, stance, or facial expression. Most of M.'s humor is physical so it doesn't translate well into writing. She should really be on TV.
For lunch, M. walks over to where I'm seated. I turn in my chair to face her. In one hand, she holds a Chinese takeaway container. In the other, she scoops and re-scoops a plastic spoon into the food.
M: "Can you smell it? Doesn't it smell good? Mmmm..."
J: "What is it?"
She takes out a spoonful of food and puts it uncomfortably close to my face.
M: "Smell it!"
Before I can do anything, pieces of hot Indian food fall onto my chest and to the floor in front of me.
J: "Ahh! Did that really just happen?"
J: "You spilled on me."
M: "Oh, Jakey!"
There is a little brown stain on my shirt for the rest of the day. For some reason, M. decides to show her braces off by smiling in all sorts of goofy ways. I am interrupted several times in the afternoon by M. giggling directly behind me. She sneaks up while I'm working and stares over my shoulder until she can't take it anymore and has to laugh.
She says I'm grumpy and calls me Grumpy like it's my name about a hundred times. Even on the way out she says, "Goodbye, Grumpy. Don't be so grumpy tomorrow, OK?"
Boy, I'll sure try.
She also keeps singing "There's a Werewolf in My Closet" by Shakira Shakira. I tell her that's not a werewolf. She better shave.
Talk to you tomorrow,