Would you rather...

Here's a problem if you're a goose: You don't have arms.

Here's a problem if you're a human: You don't have wings.

Best Talk of the Nation moment ever.

Neal Conan: Now let's go to another caller--BURP! Oh, excuse me! David, welcome to Talk of the Nation.
David: Hi Neal, how's it going?
Neal Conan: VERY well.

Don't give me a job in HR

My boss wanted all the writers to pop in and say hello to the prospective new writers he's interviewing so we can tell him what we think.

So I popped in on the first one, my boss left, and I sat down, leaned forward, and said: "So. How old are you?"

When is this an appropriate question? I can think of a few times:

1. When you're setting up medical records,
2. When the respondent is a small child, or
3. When determining if someone is old enough to buy a controlled substance or rent a car or get married.

There are probably a few more situations, but is anything resembling a job interview one of them? NO. No, no, no.

She promised not to sue, so I think I dodged that one. Phew!

Also not an appropriate question: How much do you weigh?

But I, being the tactful person that I am, did not ask that one. I know, I am the soul of discretion.

Mrs. Hunter

My sophomore year of high school, I had the opportunity to be in the class of a woman widely recognized as the scariest teacher in the world. She was scary not just because of her shirts, which were packed with decorative wrinkles, but because she was mean! She went out of her way to make you feel stupid.

She gave "extra credit" for bringing in a roll of paper towels--but it had to be her favorite brand, or else you got docked. (I say "extra credit" in quotes because the whole class was based on a curve, so when everyone in the class brought in a roll of paper towels but you didn't, the curve stepped up 25 points and left you behind with a worse grade. MEAN!) Once I had the audacity to bring in the wrong brand. My grade felt the pain.

One day she was handing out worksheets (or something), and my eyes fixated on her hands. She was wearing the ugliest ring ever. It was jade, a precious stone I did not appreciate in my youth, and huge. I hate that ring, I thought.

But then I remembered how she was the scariest teacher in the world, and decided I should be brave and talk to her instead of cowering.

So when she got to my row, I piped up.

"I like your ring," I said meekly.

She didn't look at me.

"Thanks," she said. AND SHE SMIRKED! Do you know why she smirked? Because she could read my mind! She knew why I was talking to her and what I really thought about her ring!

Scary, right?

But then there was this other time when she was nice to me. My eye was infected and I came in to hand something in before going to the doctor, and she got me some ice and told me to take care of myself. So she must have forgiven me for the ring incident.

Wait a second

How come there's no contraction for "am not"?

is + not = isn't

are + not = aren't

am + not = am not

I amn't going to stand for this.

Why do I do the things that I do?

Scene One:

See that grown woman? Walking down the street with her heels and her gigantic Liz Clairborne purse? Pulling off strips of cheese from her cheese stick and gulping them down? Reminding you of the foods you used to eat when you were in kindergarten?

That's me. Feeling stupid.

Scene Two:

I select from the office refrigerator a cup of sugar-free pudding that I placed there earlier this week. Then I select a (non-eco-friendly) plastic spoon from the plastic spoon box. On my journey back to my desk, I peel off the foil top to the pudding cup, and as I pass through the dim conference room, I proceed to lick away. Then I freeze mid-lick as I realize that there are two other people--who likely never eat pudding cups let alone lick the foil tops--entering the dim conference room from the other side, watching me lick.

How do I feel? Even stupider.

I think it's time for a nap. And then recess.

I just finished my 3 o'clock snack

... so now it's time for my 4 o'clock snack.

Why am I hungry all the time??

(And no, I'm not eating for two.)