The other day I’m at the mall, struck suddenly by hunger. In a hurry, I pass by the nearest coffee shop, and make a snap decision.
“That will be seven dollars”.
Seven dollars? Where am I? In a fucking airport? Seven dollars for that sad little sandwich?
“No, I’m sorry, can I just get a muffin instead”?
She smiled, “Good choice…that sandwich is a rip-off. $3.50 please “.
I think about this as I drive over to my friend Trish’s house. Is it soft, ‘cwa-sohn‘ or do you hit it hard “crah-sont”–either way, I think it’s impossible to win, the word sets you up for a fail. You will either sound like a pompous ass or an ignorant lout. How do you wrap your lips around such a word?
At Trish’s place, she was packing for a holiday. She asked if I could keep an eye on her baby, who was sleeping soundly, which makes for some seriously boring babysitting. But I happily hang-out, eager to help if required of me. My eye catches “Hello” magazine on the coffee table and I give it a casual flip.
Be still my heart, you wouldn’t believe what I found on “what celebs are tweeting page”
I mumble thru the word “croissant” because I’m not sure if it’s pronounced with a “cra” or a “cwa”
I’ve never felt more connected to the universe in all my life. Imagine knowing that you feel the exact same way as Ryan Seacrest. I mean, we did look awfully similar as children, but this is a monumental situation.
It doesn’t bring me any answers, but it’s comforting to know that even ole Seacrest knows a thing or too about limitations. I mean, what differentiates us is that I can’t justify a seven dollar sandwich, while he could buy the whole cafe out, and burn it to the ground if anyone dared judge his pronunciation of french pastries. So that’s where the road divides us. But there was this glorious, shining, magnificent moment where Ryan Seacrest and I were on the same page. But I don’t think it means as much to him as it does to me.
All Images Courtesy of Google