Overheard in March 2014

I did not actually overhear a lot in March. Okay. That is a lie. I overheard a lot of stuff I felt was too inappropriate to share. One thing in particular I cut out because it involved a young teenage girl. Gotta use my common sense.

It’s in there, I swear.

Somewhere.

With that in my mind, here are some funny or interesting conversations I overheard or took part in in March:

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I find dynamics between women fascinating. When we were eating a meal in Vegas one day, I happened to overhear an awkward woman in her late forties approach the table of two women the same age who were currently all ready halfway through their lunch.

“Hi!” She screeched. And the two women at the table exchanged glances. And I cringed inside for the loud girl.

“How are you doing?” She guffawed. But before they could answer, she immediately jumped to, “Did you hear I got promoted?!”

They acknowledged that indeed they had.

The awkward girl tried to downplay it like it was no big deal, but one of the women interrupted her and said, “It’s obvious you’re really proud of it. You can’t play it off like you aren’t.”

The girl could not take a hint and stood there for a good five minutes longer, looming over their table describing the entirety of her new job and title. She could not seem to sense that the two women were not only not happy for her, but that she had long overstayed her welcome.

After she finally made it back to her own table, I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. It was a tough one to witness.

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Yesterday, my family and I went to a falconry lesson (post to come soon). While we were driving home, we were discussing the things we learned and the many different raptors there are in the world.

My son said, “I would really like to see a Golden Eagle.”

To which my daughter replied, “You know it’s not really gold, right?”

My son sighed heavily, and sadly said, “Really? Darn! I really wanted to see that.”

My husband said, “It is more like a brownish gold.”

My son replied, “Oh! So, like a perfectly toasted marshmallow?”

I will never be able to see or hear the words Golden Eagle and not think of marshmallows again.

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We were walking back to our hotel in Las Vegas and a couple was fighting in front of us. Not in front of us, but rather, they were walking directly ahead of us and their conversation was loud enough for me to hear. And not necessarily fighting, but having a loud conversation that neither of them was likely to win.

“You do this every time!” The husband proclaimed. He was neither indignant nor was he sad. Just kind of factual and emotionless.

The wife did not seem to care. “I’ll make it up to you when we get back to the hotel.”

“Great.” The man said in a slightly uplifted way. Meant I am sure to be sarcastic, but the wife was all ready rushing ahead, intent on whatever new pursuit had caught her attention.

The man begrudgingly began to follow her and I was just close enough behind him to hear him mumble, “But you won’t.”

And I wish I had not been that close, because that made me sad.

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I was at a bar with my friends. Wait. That sounds rather seedy and dangerous. Oh? It doesn’t? Okay, good. No need to explain further, then.

There were two young couples in their early twenties seated at a table next to us.

I noticed that one of the four young adults would jump up, tour the bar area slowly and then come back and the next person would get up and do the same thing. It was too loud to overhear what they were doing. My talent lies in observations not in conversations. I was far too shy (and frankly far too lazy) to go to their table and ask them what they were doing.

My outgoing friends had no such qualms. They approached the table and inquired as to their curious behavior.

It turned out that the two couples were in town to celebrate one of the couple’s engagement. They were all old friends and had decided to meet there that night.

The bar had a long wall of paintings and each of them was getting up, picking their favorite painting and coming back to the table. The game was in deciding if the other members of the table knew the person doing the choosing well enough to correctly guess their favorite painting.

It was a cute, innocent drunken game. And I was happy to witness easy fun between friends. Us girls were so much older than the two couples and it saddened my heart to think of the light-heartedness eventually coming to an end as the heaviness of the years takes over.

I hope it doesn’t. I hope their light is trapped within each of them like the oil on the paintings that they each picked. And does not tarnish.

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Speaking of friends. On another night while walking in Las Vegas (oh! My feet. My poor, poor feet. This blog would take on a new tone if they could speak), a trio of men would burst ahead of us. And then stop. Then run. And stop. They were all over the place.

This might have been scary.

Had they not each been under one hundred thirty pounds. In their very early twenties (little boys, really). Dressed in pastels. And had not been so completely oblivious that there were other individuals in the world besides the three of them.

They were yelling back and forth to each other. Somewhere along the line, the three of them got separated (how this occurred is beyond me, as it was a straight walk back to our hotel).

I walked in front of the dark haired young man with the purple pants and blue checkered shirt. His eyes focused. Then refocused on me. “Hey!” He screamed, even though we were two feet apart. “Hey! Have you seen Ferdinand?”

I replied, “I do not know who Ferdinand is, but it is a lovely name.”

He was back to ignoring that I existed and five feet a head of us a blonde haired young man was impatiently stalking.

“Ferdinand!” Yelled the young man. They happily rejoined each other as if they had not been separated for less than three minutes.

“Ferdinand, she doesn’t know who you are! She’s never heard of you!”

They both looked back at me and snickered. I was surprised he remembered speaking to me. The two boys took off running.

I wondered if the two of them remembered their duo had been a trio just moments earlier.

I turned to my husband and said, “Wow! I have never seen anybody drunk act like that before!”

My husband chuckled at my naivety. “Honey,” he said. “That wasn’t alcohol.”

“Ohhhhhhh.” I exhaled. It had never occurred to me that it could be anything else.

And I guess that is a good thing.

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I was at our hotel and a group of male escorts were behind us. I accidentally stopped and one of them almost ran into me. But before the collision occurred, he belted out, “BOOM!”

Which startled me and made me move.

And then chuckle.

Because if that is not the best way to get someone out of your way, I don’t know what is.

Have you overheard anything funny lately? Any good stories to share?

* If you missed February’s Overheard In, you can find it here.

Past Cards: Rubber Mops

I’m introducing a new blog feature. It is kind of similar to my monthly post “Overheard In,” but instead of eavesdropping on individuals via listening, I am eavesdropping into the past through old postcards.

One of my many collections consists of old postcards that people have written on.

It is like a peek into that family’s soul sphere. Yes, I did just write “soul sphere.” And I made that word up. Blame my thighs. They are responsible for most of my bad decisions.

I pick the postcards that speak to me.

Only my thighs can understand the words, though.

Today we have:

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This post card was posted on September 12, 1947.

It reads:

Dear Jean, and all.

It is now 12:30 a.m. Just got in this is where I stayed last night and again tonight. Lots of people at fair today (Thu). I am out of rubber mops. Just taking mail orders now. Lots of love.

S. H. M.

Me too.

Or rather, what?

I looked up “rubber mops” to write this post, but cannot find anything on them in the 1940’s. I think it is a good thing that he ran out of rubber mops. I think S. H. M. was a rubber mop sales person or invented rubber mops? What could the initials S. H. M. stand for?

Swiffer Hater Man

Sells Hoarders Mops

Spanks Helper Monkeys (Sorry. Wrong post.)

Saves Happy Maids

I wonder if Jean received this letter and was excited that all the mops were sold. I wonder if she was going to get some of the mop money.

Had she been doubtful of this venture? Was he like, “Honey, I’m going to invest all of our money into mops made of rubber. And sell them at a fair.”

Did she cry into her mop made of yarn as he left for the fair?

So many questions.

I do not think I have ever used a mop.

I certainly have never purchased one (Swiffer user).

S. H. M. would be so disappointed in me.

Sob.

Oh great.

Now my thighs are crying.

Where’s a rubber mop when you need one?

I guess they were all sold out at a fair in the summer of 1947.

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P.S. I shared this on Savvy Southern Style.

And My Romantic Home.

Overheard In February 2014

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You would think in the short month of February I would not have overheard much. But February was a goldmine of delicious overheard conversations.

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We went and saw The Lego Movie (it is very good. My husband and son think it was one of the best movies they have ever seen) as a family. The theater was full of excited children. The following exclamations were emitted from three children in the theater. I would guess they were each around three years old. I think some of the movie went over their heads.

“Mom! You almost made us late for the movie!” As previews had just started and they were sitting down.

“He looks like a crazy elf!” A child screamed when the preview for “The Amazing Spider-man 2” came across the screen. I was not sure if the child meant Spiderman or the villian. But I wanted to shake that kid’s hand for admitting there are crazy elves among us, because we all know nothin’ is scarier than a crazy elf.

SMALL SPOILER! DO NOT READ THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH IF YOU PLAN ON SEEING THIS MOVIE:

“When is the movie going to play again?” If you have seen this movie, then you know at the end there are real people. The little kid could not understand that the people were part of the movie. I wonder if he thought it was just a long commercial… Which, let’s face it, it kind of was.

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My husband and I were eating at a new restaurant in town. We were close to the bar. I could hear the bartender speaking to some people, but I could not believe what I was hearing. When he was passing by I asked him if I had overheard him correctly. He explained that I had.

This is what I overheard:

“My stepdad moved to Alaska when he was twenty years old. He learned how to mush dogs. He bought a team and they led him to a piece of property.

He built a cabin and lived there for thirty five years.”

I was able to get some more information from him after speaking to him. It turns out the stepdad built four different cabins in the thirty five years he lived there. He made a trek into town once a year for supplies. When his pelt business took off, the little planes would fly directly to him to trade supplies so he no longer had to make the journey into town.

When I asked him how long it had taken the stepdad to build the cabin. The young man grinned.

“Four days,” he said.

“Four days!” I exclaimed.

“My stepdad always said it should never take anyone longer than four days to build a cabin.”

It took me four days just to complete this post.

I don’t think I will be moving to Alaska anytime soon.

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My husband and I were at our favorite restaurant for Valentine’s Day. As we were waiting for our table, a big boisterous man walked by us. He was the head chef for the restaurant. He threw open the kitchen doors and cheerfully exclaimed to the other chefs and waitstaff within the room:

“Hello my butterflies!

How are we doing today?”

I think he was having a good Valentine’s Day. In any case, it made me smile.

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Remember when I said I could not for the life of me resist a little girl selling girl scout cookies? Well, two weeks ago was no exception.

“Would you like to buy some cookies?” Asked a little girl of about eight years old. Her freckled little cheeks were bursting with her smile.

“Of course!” I said. I purchased two boxes for eight dollars.

I gave her a ten dollar bill.

“I’ll get her her two dollars!” She excitedly told her mother.

She turned to me and said. “I’m in third grade. I can do math.”

I smiled.

She took that as a sign she should continue,”Third grade sucks!” She exclaimed.

Her mother’s face turned red. “Honey! Don’t say that!”

I smiled and took my cookies and walked away. As I was walking, I heard the mother whispering to the little girl about not telling people that third grade sucks. I was almost out of ear shot.

“Why?! It does!” Was yelled loudly in indignation behind me.

You know what doesn’t suck? Girl Scout Cookies! Man, I wish I did not know exactly how many come in a sleeve and what sixteen minus fourteen is.

It’s still sixteen, right?

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My book club met at a restaurant a few days later. Again, we were seated near a bar. This is going to be the theme for the rest of this post. In fact, this month’s “Overheard In” should really have been titled “Overheard Near A Bar.”

A young man was getting exceedingly loud and obnoxious. I thought I overheard people wishing him a happy birthday.

I told my girlfriends it was that young man’s birthday and asked them how old they thought he was turning.

There were many answers. The general consensus was twenty-four. I thought he was much older.

So, my friend called the young man over and said, “I heard it’s your birthday. Happy birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday,” he responded.

Crap! Well, I can’t overhear right all of the time.

My friend was unfazed. “Well, if it were your birthday, how old would you be turning?”

The young man blinked and then he drawled out, “Is that some kind of ****ed up line to get me to tell you how old I am?”

Again unfazed. “Of course not. I was just curious how old you would be turning if it was your birthday.”

The young man gave his answer, “twenty five.”

The girls were right!

The young man left.

Unfortunately, he came back as he thought this was an open invitation to speak to us happily married older women who were just curious as to the age of the loudness at the bar so we would know when it came to our own children.

My friend had on a hat. He went up to her.

“I like your hat.”

“Thanks,” she replied.

He began a sad little tale, “I tried on one of those yesterday. And my friend said, ‘you can’t buy that hat!’ And I said, ‘why not?’ And he said, ’cause you’re not Irish.’ And I said, ‘But I’m a quarter Irish.’ And he said, ‘Man, you have to be one hundred percent Irish to wear that hat!’

He paused, “I should have just bought it.”

Who knew this overheard conversation would turn into a reminiscent shopping trip and regrets about not purchasing an accessory.

It’s okay bar dude, we’ve all been there.

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My family and I went to a barbecue place in town. They sat my family in the bar. It was lunchtime, so it was fine. There was no one actually at the bar. Just booths being filled.

Diagonal to us in a booth identical to our own, sat three elderly gentlemen in their mid-seventies. They were all dressed handsomely. I could hear them conversing and laughing all through the meal.

It was nice.

Their bill came and the man closest to me reached for it, but the man across from him was quicker.

“Oh, Bill, let me get that.”

“No,” Bill replied. “I’ll get it this time. Besides you’re the youngest. Let your elder treat you.”

They all chuckled at this.

Then Bill softly said, “It was just so nice to get out of the house today.”

The energy and mood of the table changed. It became very somber.

The third man said, “I’m sorry Bill.”

And they were quiet for a brief second more.

Then the youngest among them asked Bill, “How have you been holding up?”

And Bill replied, “You know, surprisingly well.

Surprisingly well.”

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We’ll move on from that elderly group to a cheerful outing of an elderly female group.

It was the same night as the night our book club met Charlie (the hatless fellow).

I looked up from my dinner towards the bar as I heard loud cheering and clapping. I thought perhaps Charlie had gotten his hat afterall. But it was not Charlie in a hat that greeted my eyes when they settled onto the scene at the bar.

At the bar, two people were passionately kissing.

One was a young man of around twenty-three.

The other, an older woman of sixty five.

The bar crowd was going nuts over their embrace.

When they finally broke from each other, a group of the older woman’s friends circled around her and together they all laughed and chatted their way out of the restaurant.

I, being the curious sort who just cannot not pry into other’s business jumped up from my table and chased the women from the restaurant.

“Excuse me,” I said to the woman whose cheeks were still flushed from her adventure at the bar.

“I have to know about that kiss!”

The woman chucked and said, “It’s my sixty fifth birthday today and that young man gave me quite a birthday present.”

I smiled with her and said, “That is so awesome! Happy Birthday!”

She replied, “Thank you! It is my friend’s birthday too and she got the same present!”

I wished her friend a happy birthday as well and I watched the happy group of elderly ladies leave the restaurant giggling like school girls and practically skipping into the night.

I think they must have had a fabulous February.

How about you? Any funny conversations overheard? Memories like the above to share?

If you missed January’s Overheard, you can find it here.

Overheard In December

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As much as you would have thought I would have gotten out in December, the truth is, I just didn’t. And when I did, well, people weren’t talking. They were scrambling. Impatiently waiting. I still managed to overhear some funny things. One of them being from my two year old (three in February) nephew on Christmas Eve when he unwrapped my gift of a big bag of lollipops I had gotten on sale during an after Halloween sale for $1. I knew my sister would not care and I knew he would be so excited.

This is what he said when he unwrapped them:

Big intake of breath. “Lollipops! Just what I always wanted!”

I aim to please. It is fun to be the aunt.

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At a local diner with just my husband and I, I heard the following conversation coming from the booth behind my husband:

“Excuse me. What were the eggs I ordered called?”

“Over easy.”

“Okay. That’s what I thought. Now, can you give me the definition of an over easy egg?”

The waitress appeared startled but quickly rattled off, “it is when the whites are firm but the inside is slightly runny when you break it open.”

“Yes. And is this how you always cook your over easy eggs? Do you think they should be dry in the middle? I just want to know for next time. So I can order an egg that is not dry.”

“Sir, I would be happy to take that plate away and bring you an egg cooked to your liking.”

Snort, “No. No. No. I can see you’re busy. I just wanted to know for next time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” And then the minute the waitress had passed, “You would think for $3, I could get an egg that didn’t taste like toast.”

With no reaction from his wife, he continued. “Seriously. It’s that dry.”

Still no reaction.

“Aw, well, next time, we’ll go to IHOP.”

This is when I turned my listening ears off. I suspect…And this is only a suspicion, his wife all ready had five minutes before.

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I heard a wonderful story from a woman at a place I shall not name. My son had just gotten his braces off and she was commenting on his teeth.

She asked him if he wanted to eat an apple. He shyly responded, “no, thank you.” He had eaten a giant breakfast with us earlier in celebration of getting his braces off (funny story to come).

She told him, “the day I got my braces taken off, I walked to my car, and there waiting for me was the sweetest boy holding the shiniest, biggest red apple in his hand.”

Her eyes twinkled and she continued, “he was so sweet. He ended up being the man I married.”

She added, “I knew him for a long time, of course.”

This is where the smart ass that I am added, “Oh, good. He wasn’t just stalking girls in the parking lot at the orthodontist office getting their braces off and luring them with apples.”

Another woman laughed at my “wit.”

She said, “That would be a great way to pick up girls! Just wait at the orthodontist for their braces to come off.”

We both chuckled as we pictured young men stalking shining smiles with gleaming red apples.

Not to diminish the lovely romantic story, I truly did enjoy hearing it. And you could tell that even after all these years, she was still madly in love. Maybe an apple a day keeps…the attorney away? ; )

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My friend overheard the following conversation at the discount store. It took place between a mother and her four year old son (who had a darling slight speech impediment).

“What’s your name, honey?”

Silence.

More urgency.

“Honey! What’s your name?”

The little boy turned to his mother in mortification: “Seiously, Mom? You mean, you fogot my name?”

The mom said aghast, “Johnny! That little girl was asking you your name.” She pointed to a cute little girl a few feet away. “I just wanted you to tell her.”

My friend had a good chuckle over this and so did I. Kids do say the funniest things.

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A teenage daughter to her dad at a doctor’s office:

“Dad, that’s not fair.”

The dad responded:

“It’s not supposed to be fair

Do you know what’s at the fair?

Caramel corn and apple pies

And if you are lucky credible rides.”

Yes, credible rides. I wondered if the dad knew he had sort of made an awesome rhyme. I felt sorry for the girl. That dad was so scary intelligent, she would never get away with anything.

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We were at the local diner having breakfast (this seems to be a theme) and I overheard the following conversation behind me between a woman in her seventies and a man in his fifties:

“Do you think we should get Gene some shoes for Christmas?”

(Keep in mind, I overheard this on the 27th… Of December).

“I don’t know.

What kind would we get?”

I was thinking of some tennis shoes.”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

Pause.

“Just make sure they don’t have velcro.”

“Oh, I know! Gene sure has some velcro issues.”

Velcro issues? Best diagnosis ever. I wish I knew what this was! I am intrigued.

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Did you overhear anything good in December? What are your plans for tonight? We always stay home and celebrate in our pajamas. Kathy Griffin and Anderson Cooper anyone?

Can’t wait!

Everybody stay smart and safe out there!