BALONEY FLASHDANCE

Thursday, September 17, 2009

M. purses her lips and leans back in her chair. She makes her "I'm so important" noise which sounds like constipation and informs us that she is going to dinner and a movie this Friday night with some of her girlfriends.

I imitate her. My tongue sticks out of my mouth and my upper lip is curled to emphasize the effect. I sound constipated.

J: "Mmmmmmmphf, do you know where I live? Hurry up and take me there because I have to take a duuuuump! Hhhhmmmmmpf."

The impression stops and I lean back in my chair to sip my coffee.

M: "Look at you, Jake. You sip your coffee like you're so content."

This makes me laugh really hard for several minutes. Eventually, I lean over and spit the coffee out of my mouth to stop from choking.

Later, I jot down notes for today's blog when I hear a heavy sigh followed by a loud snore from where M. sits. I turn to see her sitting in her chair like the woman in Flashdance.

J: "What are you doing?"

M: "Chair Yoga, Jake." (She gets up.) "Does anybody need anything from the ladies room?"

She comes back with a damp paper towel and drops it in a wad on my desk.

M: "This is all I could find."

After lunch, I notice the plant she gave me, which she named Octavio, is flourishing.

J: "Octavio is growing!"

M. stares at me coldly so I reach out and slap the plant leaves. It makes an audible sound, very similar to multiple high-fives.

M: "Jake, what are you doing?"

J: [Slap! Slap!]

M: "Jake! Don't touch him."

J: [Slap!]

M: "Don't look at him!"

J: [Slap! Slap!]

Eventually, M. finds herself compelled to walk over and steal Octavio from my desk. She places him with her other plants so they can play. I'm left giggling alone at my desk.

Throughout the day, I ask M. a series of questions in the style of her belly dancing question from yesterday. Here are three examples:

#1.) "M., if you were from Russia and you didn't know me and you were waiting for me in a restaurant and I came in like this," (I do a weird Russian dance by folding my arms and kicking out one leg at a time,) "would you feel at home?"

#2.) "If you were from the circus and you didn't know me and you were waiting for me in a restaurant and I came in like this," (I act like I'm riding a unicycle and juggling several balls,) "would you feel a good connection?"

#3.) "M., if you were from the marsh and you didn't know me and you were waiting for me in a restaurant and I came in like this," (I flap my elbows and quack like a duck,) "would you feel like you were home?"

Number 3 takes me several different tries to get through. For some reason, each time I get to the part where I'm supposed to make the duck noise, I bust up laughing. I laugh so hard I almost pass out, which makes M. crack up too. After several minutes, we are both crying from laughter and our faces are cherry red. My ears burn.

M. fires back with a series of "I'm so important noises" accompanied by wildly pursed and ever-twitching lips. These go on for most of the afternoon until she attempts to demonstrate an excuse for getting out of 2nd dates:

M: "It's not going to work because... (dramatic pause for pursed lips and twitches.)

I interrupt.

J: "It's not going to work because your face turns into Oscar Mayer baloney."


More laughter, more red faces, more tears, and more spitting out of liquids. All in all, it's a terrific end to a pretty good week!