Cruising for a Tip

I open the door, greet him and see that he is leaning on the door frame with the pizza balanced and held high in his left hand. He seems very relaxed. He doesn't smile, but right away engages in a conversation.

"Are you Greek?" he asks in an easy voice.

He is a young one. My guess is that when I was 27, I could have changed his diapers.

"No, I'm not Greek. I am French Canadian." I reply and touch my hair. It's always the hair that makes them think that I am of Mediterranean ancestry.

I notice that he takes a quick, not very subtle look at my cleavage.

"Do I look Greek to you?" I inquire.

"Yes, you do." He finally smiles.

"And what country are you originally from?" I ask as I sneak a peek at his biceps, not so subtly.

"I am from Lebanon." He responds as he hands me the pizza.

"Oh, that is a beautiful country," I tell him as we make eye contact.

"Yes, it is." He agrees.

I pay him, give him a generous tip, thank him, and he is off to deliver his next pizza and line.

The Goddess of Love Wears Nail Polish on Her Toes

Except for the last few months, for over 30 years, I have only worn nail polish on my toes. A strong and silent type, gave me a touching present last night; 5 mini bottles of sparkly nail polish. The gift brought back a memory…

When I was skinny, dorky and 14, I had an English teacher named Mrs. Thomas. She was supposed to teach us English literature, but mostly she just managed to keep the class under control. Her class rules were simple - if you were tired, you had the right to sleep, if you were stoned, you had the option to zone out, and if you happened to be interested in literature, she allowed you come to her desk and discuss the readings.

I loved reading, and I loved her, so, of course, I always went to the front to discuss the stories and life. She called me Lakshmi, Hindu Goddess of Love and Beauty.

One day I came in with my finger nails painted a bright post-coital red. Mrs. T, looked down at my fingers, then up at my face, and asked, “Did you put nail polish on your toe nails too?”

“No.” I responded, surprised by the concern in her usually composed voice.

“Only bad girls wear nail polish on their finger nails. If you want to wear nail polish on your finger nails, you must also wear it on your toe nails. Make sure that tonight you put nail polish on your toe nails too. It will de-bad you.”

“Oh, okay.” I responded respectfully.

With that she smiled and we proceeded with the literary discussion of the day.

That night I removed all the polish from my fingers, and then painted my toe nails the same red.

“There, that should doubly de-bad me,” I sighed happily.

Great Glebe Garage Swindle

"How much for these three spools of thread?" I ask, slightly cupping the spools in my hand. I don't want him to see what he is giving up. I act relaxed, uncaring - as if I don't really want them.

"Twenty-five cents for all three," responds Burly Guy. Five O'clock Shadow Friend peeks into my semi-closed hand.

"Wow, those are vibrant colours," he comments.

I smile, I close my hand tightly around the hard wooden spools, pay Burly Guy his trente sous, and feel thrilled with my take.

"It's not the thread I'm after. It's the wooden spools." I reply.

Then, I quickly walk away, looking over my shoulder, worried that they will chase after me for the lost treasure.

Great Glebe Garage Website Sale

I am standing beside two young men by a table full of trinkets. I notice them because one smells nice and the other has a soft alluring voice.

As I walk away from them, I overhear one say, "This is great. I didn't know about the Great Glebe Garage Sale. Next year I am setting up a table and selling my Websites!"

Did I hear him correctly? Can you sell Websites at a garage sale?

Bussing the Light Fantastic

He is tall and skinny, and always friendly. He is my favorite bus driver.

His mustache looks like it would really tickle my cheek if I gave him a bise. He is French Canadian, so that would not be such a weird thing to do.

As I was getting off the bus late last night, he called after me, "Now you go on straight home, ya hear!"

I laughed, and I did...

Today as I was leaving the bus, I smiled at him and playfully said, "I am going straight home, now!"

I heard him laugh, as I headed straight for home.

Spelling Bee-itch

"Hmmm, how do you spell "miss-quoted?", I mumble to myself.

"Bee-itch," offers the Erratic Genius who's presence I'd forgotten.

"Heh, heh, heh!" He laughs in his evil baritone voice.

It doesn't read funny, but the boy has a gift for timing and delivery.

So, from now on when someone asks me how to spell something, I know I will want to reply, "Bee-itch".

But, coming from me it will just sound crazy old woman, and not hilarious, brilliant young man.