Monday, April 4, 2011

Get That Booty

(My student assistant Debbie and I are eating Pirate's Booty, a Cheeto-like snack dusted in chemical cheese, that we got from the break room. We talk about nothing in particular while we rest from the monotony of the afternoon. Debbie is Chinese.)

Me: So, you get money for Chinese New Year? That's nice.

Debbie: Sure!--well, if you're single you get money in a red envelope. Last year I got $500. Cash!

Me: What? I get a hangover and if I'm lucky, a sloppy kiss. But that's for regular New Year.

(Lenore trundles past us to the nearby break room and rummages around for something. We continue to snack and talk.)

Debbie: We also eat a lot and spend time with family.

Me: And run through the streets as dragons and blow your hand off with firecrackers, right?

Debbie: Yeah, something like that.

(Lenore comes up and leans over Debbie with a mouth full of Pirate's Booty. She has a band aid in her hand.)

Lenore: (spitting puffs of the chemical cheese out of her mouth) Hey! Did you guys see there's a huge bag of Cheetos in the break room? I love that stuff!

Me: It's Debbie's. She's going to New York next week to see her family for Chinese New Year's and has to get rid of all her food.

L: Oh! Get rid of it on me. Where did you get the Cheetos? They're yummo!

Debbie: From Trader Joe's. It's actually Pirate's Booty.

L: (continuing to cram food in her mouth) Huh?

Debbie: (slowly) Pi-rate's Boo-Tay.

L: Well what ever you call it, there's a bag of it in the break room and no one is eating it. I just love it.

Me: (noticing the band aid in her hand) What's the band aid for? Did you cut yourself?

L: Oh, no. Allison across the way, her desk drawer has been jammed all morning. She's had one heck of a time trying to get the, the, (losing her train of thought for a moment) well, she can't get that darn thing open. She's out to lunch now, or something. I don't know where she is. (putting more Pirate's Booty in her mouth) No one tells me nothing!

Debbie: But what's the band aid for?

L: Oh, the guy that came to fix the drawer cut his hand open or something. He just called me and needed some First Aid. All I could find was this band aid.

Me: Oh my gosh! Is it bad? There should be a whole First Aid kit next to the fire extinguisher in the break room.

L: Well, I'll see what he needs when I get down there. This band aid should be fine, I think. *nom nom nom*


Originally posted January 23, 2009

No comments:

Post a Comment