Adventures at TMC
Sep. 16th, 2003 05:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cosmolinguistJenn and I went to TMC (for overpriced, slightly warmer versions of the food we get at PFM) this evening. As we're walking in, we see a little boy sitting on the floor in the middle of the doorway. He's wearing a red bicycle helmet and rearranging things in his backpack. "Okay, take the sweatshirt out ... " we hear him say to himself as we walk past. We laugh, gently.
We order food, we sit down, and she says, "I wonder if he's a child savant. We should go ask him."
"Now?" I ask. That sounds dumb. Besides, I'm eating!
"Yeah, now."
I am reluctant. "Why?" Obviously I'm trying to distract her.
"Because I've always wanted to meet one!" she says. "I think that would be so cool. Wouldn't it?"
I think about it for a second, decide the idea of a child savant seemed reasonably cool, and nod. "But you don't even like kids," I point out. It's true. If anything, it's an understatement. Jenn doesn't like kids like Bill O'Reilly doesn't like liberals.
"I know," she says, "but I'd like a child savant. Unless they were smarter than me." I smile noncommitally. "It's my goal in life to meet a child savant." Later: "See, I bet he's a child savant; he's reading a book and highlighting stuff."
"And he's intelligent enough to wear a bicycle helmet," I point out.
"Or his parents are intelligent enough to make him!" she says. "I should go ask him if he's a child savant. But what if he wasn't; I'd be embarrased ... Well, what if he was? I'd probably still be embarrassed."
She looks over every four seconds to see if her food is ready, which gives me something about which to make fun of her. I tell her the cottage cheese she's so excited about eating looks like a bowl of snot to me. We talk about homework and Eddie Izzard. Life goes on.
Then, while dragging another fry through ketchup, I notice an imposter. It is the tomato I've carelessly thrown off my burger. Tomatoes are evil! "Get away from my ketchup, stupid tomato!" I say, tossing it out of the way. The irony of what I just said isn't lost on me; I have to smile.
Jenn, curiously, has not yet pointed out the incongruity of me liking ketchup but not tomatoes. The reason for this is made clear soon enough, though, as she blurts out, "I'd laugh at that--but--I'm dying! I tried to swallow a french fry whole!" She speaks with slight amazement, as if this notion awes even she herself. I laugh at her not being able to laugh at me for my own ridiculosity.
Then she looks over and says, "Oh, he's not a child savant after all." It takes me a second to catch up, but how could I forget about the child savant? "He just shook up his Dr. Pepper and [here she made sucking sounds to demonstrate] sucked like half of it down. Obviously no child savant would suck down half his pop at once."
We gather the debris of our meal, put it all where it belongs, and leave.
We order food, we sit down, and she says, "I wonder if he's a child savant. We should go ask him."
"Now?" I ask. That sounds dumb. Besides, I'm eating!
"Yeah, now."
I am reluctant. "Why?" Obviously I'm trying to distract her.
"Because I've always wanted to meet one!" she says. "I think that would be so cool. Wouldn't it?"
I think about it for a second, decide the idea of a child savant seemed reasonably cool, and nod. "But you don't even like kids," I point out. It's true. If anything, it's an understatement. Jenn doesn't like kids like Bill O'Reilly doesn't like liberals.
"I know," she says, "but I'd like a child savant. Unless they were smarter than me." I smile noncommitally. "It's my goal in life to meet a child savant." Later: "See, I bet he's a child savant; he's reading a book and highlighting stuff."
"And he's intelligent enough to wear a bicycle helmet," I point out.
"Or his parents are intelligent enough to make him!" she says. "I should go ask him if he's a child savant. But what if he wasn't; I'd be embarrased ... Well, what if he was? I'd probably still be embarrassed."
She looks over every four seconds to see if her food is ready, which gives me something about which to make fun of her. I tell her the cottage cheese she's so excited about eating looks like a bowl of snot to me. We talk about homework and Eddie Izzard. Life goes on.
Then, while dragging another fry through ketchup, I notice an imposter. It is the tomato I've carelessly thrown off my burger. Tomatoes are evil! "Get away from my ketchup, stupid tomato!" I say, tossing it out of the way. The irony of what I just said isn't lost on me; I have to smile.
Jenn, curiously, has not yet pointed out the incongruity of me liking ketchup but not tomatoes. The reason for this is made clear soon enough, though, as she blurts out, "I'd laugh at that--but--I'm dying! I tried to swallow a french fry whole!" She speaks with slight amazement, as if this notion awes even she herself. I laugh at her not being able to laugh at me for my own ridiculosity.
Then she looks over and says, "Oh, he's not a child savant after all." It takes me a second to catch up, but how could I forget about the child savant? "He just shook up his Dr. Pepper and [here she made sucking sounds to demonstrate] sucked like half of it down. Obviously no child savant would suck down half his pop at once."
We gather the debris of our meal, put it all where it belongs, and leave.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-09-16 03:46 pm (UTC)Oh so mindblowing
Date: 2003-09-16 07:41 pm (UTC)Jenn "evil_grapefruit"
(no subject)
Date: 2003-09-16 05:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-09-16 07:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-09-16 07:32 pm (UTC)Not Budging
Date: 2003-09-16 07:38 pm (UTC)Jenn
(no subject)
Date: 2003-09-16 09:14 pm (UTC)I didn't notice it before ...
Date: 2003-09-16 09:21 pm (UTC)I'll post the silly comment anyway.
Re: I didn't notice it before ...
Date: 2003-09-16 10:29 pm (UTC)Jenn
Re: I didn't notice it before ...
Date: 2003-09-16 10:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-09-17 09:16 am (UTC)I have to agree with you about the tomatoes vs ketchup. I just can't stand the texture of tomatoes ... though I do enjoy a nice bowl of tomato soup when the mood strikes me. Have I said "tomato" enough?
(no subject)
Date: 2003-09-17 09:46 am (UTC)There, now I've said "tomato" a bunch of times, too.