I carry a notebook with me, always. I realize that there are people who don’t – but what do they do when the ideas happen, when bits of unusual conversation crop up? Don’t tell me it goes unrecorded!
Even on the bus, the notebook is always at the ready.
And so it was with some surprise that I overheard the end of a conversation on said bus the other day that incorporated a subtle nod in my direction and one of them saying, “Hey, we might have problems, but at least we’re not on the bus writing in our diary.”
And then they laughed.
Excuse me? Writing in my diary?
Do these people have any idea who I am?!
I like thinking that, by the way. “Do you know who I am?!” So pretentious! So spoiled! So ridiculously self-satisfied. Reminds me of a cousin, a cross between Marilyn Monroe and Marilyn Manson, who used to get into fights that always started with her bellowing, "How dare you! How dare you!!"
Perhaps I have taken this whole blogging thing too seriously. It’s one thing to have had business cards made for passing out at readings but perhaps it’s another to have commissioned the plaque I hope to hang in the main hall at my old high school.
“Home of the Cardinals and Pearl, Blogger Extraordinaire, Snappy Dresser, and Recipient of the 1980 Worst-Smelling Gym Locker Competition. Go Cards!”
Still. Those two guys – I should have them killed.
About Bob Dylan
4 days ago
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21 comments:
you should have said its not a diary, puffed up your bottom lip out and stuck your tongue out, :-p
don't let those losers get cha down, that notebook is why we keep coming back. YOU know I love to ride the bus with you. Sorry I wasn't there to kick their asses on your behalf!
if you see them again just point.. I got sumpin for um...;-)
I don't have a notebook*. I put those oh-so-clever thoughts, ideas, and observations into the rusty steel cabinet that is my mind. And then promptly forget just what I filed them under.
As for those two guys. Next time, just smile at them and mouth... "Yes, you do have problems..."
*That's not true. I have a dozen or more. Full of short notes and words that no longer make any sense to me.
They had NO idea WHO they were dealing with, now did they?
Now, they will forevermore be known as the assholes on the bus.
I know, because your notebook recorded it.
I am not as organized as you. I write them on scraps of grocery list, on the back of envelopes and in the margins of coupons.
Hey, General Mills has a LOT of great quotes on their redeemed cereal coupons.
They are probably making greeting cards of them as I sit here today.
:-}
Good grief, don't these people know that there are 250 people, at any given point in time, hanging on your every word?! For shame!
The nerve!
I get the same looks and comments when I go to get random pictures in the Dollar Store for my blog. You know, the Dollar Store find kind of posts? I get the strangest looks, I don't know why.
I'm thinkin' I'm going to start wearing a small taperecorder around my neck that starts recording when someone starts talking. I have some of the best conversations with myself and lots of good ideas come up between me, myself and I, but by the time I come back in the house or get back from the grocery store I've forgotten them.
Helen
Hi Pearl,
I know you have some strange customs like calling trousers pants but do you live on a bus ? Maybe you are you addicted to travelling (This can be cured) or does Mr Pearl only let you in the house at certain times like when there is an R in the month ? I suppose writing is a good way of passing the time until the doors are open
It's not a diary it's my MaNiFeStO...
two for the enemies list...
said in a really creepy sing-songy way...
Peace - Rene
I was trying to think of a snappy comeback but Rene wins. Well, hell, at least you can write! Not so sure about what the public schools are churning out now.
Me? I'm scrambling around looking for any scrap of paper and something, anything, that will make a mark. Doing that and trying to drive at the same time is a juggling act but at least I'm not on the damn PHONE!
***screaming in a heavy Scottish accent*** They may take our lives, but they'll never take our NOTEBOOKS!
I'm heading over there Pearl,
Got a spare bus pass?
I'll bring the tequila.
That quite funny. I too carry a notebook, but I never ride the boss. Does that make me more normal?
You should've just started crying and bellerin' on. . . when someone asked what was wrong - point at the two dudes and just scream . . . "Them!! They did this to me!!"
I tried wearing one of those tiny little 50 cent top spiral bound note books around my neck for awhile, but I couldn't keep a pen attached and I would forget to wear it or even read it....
I like Reddirt's idea about a little recording device around your neck..nice piece of silk cord. Then after you whisper in your blog/note/thought....take a finger and press on your ear for a few seconds and look really thoughtful...give a little nod or a look of sad dismay (could then look directly at the fools on the bus)...then either whisper into your sleeve or your watch.
I think those guys are just jealous as they don't have a thought in their heads to jot down. Those imbeciles! Heh ... you'll get the better of them when you put it in your blog though!
AMIRITE? AMIRITE?
Blessings!
I have a notebook too. The best of us do, you know. And clearly, those dweebs did not know.
They dont know who you are !
But, Killed !?! Come on Pearl ! There are other things that you could do.
Like profile them on the blog and slip in the blog url to them on the bus.
Ofcourse, the post will end with something like 'theres more coming your way...' !
All kinds make the world ! All kinds !
:D
All my snappy comments are taken :-(
But I'd have kicked their butts for you!
All my snappy comments are taken :-(
But I'd have kicked their butts for you!
jackasses.
next time they make a smart ass comment like that say "oh thats really, really good! and its going in the book."
bet it wigs them out a bit.
Ah, young men. Young men everywhere seem to get dumber when they're in groups.
I read some book - wish I could remember the title. The author got her period on Christmas Eve, and had to make a run to the store for supplies.
Naturally, a group of young toughs in line behind her had to comment. Rather than ignore them, after she paid, she turned around and said something like "Yes, I got my period for Christmas. You'd better hope that all of your girlfriends get exactly the same thing."
I hope you take some comfort in the fact that they were probably functionally illiterate and thus secretly jealous of the fact that you can write in a notebook?
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