Category: overheard this week

Weekly Eavesdropping Turns up a Winner

140474989My favorite overheard piece of conversation this week: The problem was I couldn’t get past his nostrils.

I’m not making this up. That’s what person one said to person two. The two people in question probably didn’t know I was eavesdropping. If they did, I doubt they would have cared. What kind of nostrils did he have, you ask?

The better question is who said this anyway?

What if it was a doctor trying to explain to a parent why he couldn’t get past the nostril to get at the piece of Lego jammed into their son’s nasal passage? Or a zoo maintenance guy explaining to his boss why he hadn’t treated the giraffe’s ear infection yet? Or a casting director telling the producer why he passed on the guy who nailed the reading but chose the guy having a bad hair day instead?

But no. It wasn’t anything quite so dramatic. It was – you guessed it – two women rehashing the details of last night’s date over a cup of coffee. She couldn’t get past his nostrils. She wasn’t going out with him again, end of story.

I guess they were . . . you know . . . seriously bad nostrils. Or else she’s seriously picky. But as her friend told her, “you can’t judge all guys by their noses.” And then she suggested, “You need to get out there and try harder.”

She might want to get on that. Good men can be hard to find. Especially when you’re eighty-five. 6174881770_1745778aac

Overheard This Week

140474989My week isn’t complete without a bit of eavesdropping. Not the ‘listen-at-the-closed-door’ kind, but the organic stuff you happen to pick up along the way.

Like at the gym. My favorite this week was: I don’t want to be that kind of person.

Okay, so I did linger/loiter (which word is better? The conundrum of a writer.)

Let’s just say I lintered. I lintered for a while. But there were no closed doors and it was a public place and I actually did do a few leg presses while I was eavesdropping, even though I rarely use that particular machine and I probably caused some ligament damage in the process. But anything for a good story idea, right?

Turns out the person who made the statement (she of the pert blonde pony tail, horsy laugh and athletic thighs) didn’t want to complain about some injustice or another because she didn’t want to be that kind of person.

The individual she was speaking to (Audrey Hepburn hair; lime green runners) was wholly sympathetic. I am calling these two girmen. A little old to be girls, but a little young to be women. They’d be perfect characters to write into a New Adult fiction novel (which I’m told is the new, hot thing only it’s not all that new – Ann Brashares wrote a great NA fiction novel in 2007 – The Last Summer. But I digress).

This overheard tidbit had potential. In spite of my leg presses and hopefulness, however, it went nowhere. In fact, their conversation was kind of boring. So I went off (to a much easier machine) and had a (much better) conversation with myself about what might cause someone to say that.

I don’t think I spoke out loud but I might have. I’ve been known to. I did get a few stares. But then people often stare when I’m at the gym, mostly because I forget to comb my hair before I go.

I don’t want to be that kind of person. As story prompts go, it’s a good one, so I’m still tossing it around. And I’m still lintering. Only this time I’m targeting boens. The ‘not-quite-boys-not-yet-men’ group. They gather by the bench press machine.

Let’s hope I don’t hurt myself.