2.5 seconds of my inner monologue
Last night near Times Square, I was walking down a long block and chewing some gum I didn't particularly want anymore, but there wasn't a trash can nearby.
At just that moment, I realized that, walking towards me on the sidewalk was a woman dressed in a jumpsuit, pushing a trash can on wheels. For a millisecond, I had the thought that I'd put my gum in that trash can, but then I immediately realized that that would be very rude, and then I thought how unpleasant it probably was to have to be the only lady among all the jumpsuit-wearing employees of the Times Square Alliance, and then I remembered I had once seen another lady, or perhaps the same lady, that time in daylight, wearing a red jumpsuit and pushing a trash can, and I had admired the way she had coordinated her red lipstick with her red jumpsuit, and then I had the flicker of a thought that I could ask if I could put something in her trash can, and then rejected that thought as being awkward and stupid, and the gum obviously wasn't a very big deal anyway, and then I had the thought that what if she thought it was a weird, gross come-on -- Can I put my trash in your trash can? -- and then I felt sad that maybe someone had said that to her once, and then I thought, maybe I'm the only person in the world who even would think of that, and what does that say about me, and then I was reminded of a comedy act that Todd Levin had once done at the WYSIWYG show about having sex with a woman whose idea of dirty talk was too dirty and in fact even involved a toilet-cleaning metaphor, and by then I was at another trash can and that hardworking woman was, thankfully, out of reach of my inner monologue.
At just that moment, I realized that, walking towards me on the sidewalk was a woman dressed in a jumpsuit, pushing a trash can on wheels. For a millisecond, I had the thought that I'd put my gum in that trash can, but then I immediately realized that that would be very rude, and then I thought how unpleasant it probably was to have to be the only lady among all the jumpsuit-wearing employees of the Times Square Alliance, and then I remembered I had once seen another lady, or perhaps the same lady, that time in daylight, wearing a red jumpsuit and pushing a trash can, and I had admired the way she had coordinated her red lipstick with her red jumpsuit, and then I had the flicker of a thought that I could ask if I could put something in her trash can, and then rejected that thought as being awkward and stupid, and the gum obviously wasn't a very big deal anyway, and then I had the thought that what if she thought it was a weird, gross come-on -- Can I put my trash in your trash can? -- and then I felt sad that maybe someone had said that to her once, and then I thought, maybe I'm the only person in the world who even would think of that, and what does that say about me, and then I was reminded of a comedy act that Todd Levin had once done at the WYSIWYG show about having sex with a woman whose idea of dirty talk was too dirty and in fact even involved a toilet-cleaning metaphor, and by then I was at another trash can and that hardworking woman was, thankfully, out of reach of my inner monologue.
posted by JenIsFamous at 3/10/2008 01:14:00 PM
1 Comments:
I put trash in their trash cans all the time. Usually I think I say something quick first, "hey, is it ok if I throw this out?" or something. No one's ever seemed offended. It would never occur to me that they might be offended--I mean, as long as you acknowledge their existence and don't just throw the trash at them or something. That's what the trash cans are for!
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