short dialogue assignment

“CUH-LAIRRRRE!” squealed a high pitch voice from a tall, thin blonde across the produce section.
“CLAIRE BEAR, I can recognize that walk from a mile away! Get that cute little ass over here and give me a hug!”
I did not respond. I acknowledge my Aunt Lisa’s greeting with a half-assed smile. When she wrapped her boney, lotion tanned orange arms around me I couldn’t help but cringe. That stuff always smells like fake coconuts mixed with insect repellant.
“Hey Aunt Lisa. I see you’ve been using lotion tanner lately. Smart move, you know how those UV rays will get you.”
“Oh honey, aren’t you the sweetest thing! Always looking out for others. You’re so much like your mother, god rest her angelic little soul!”
Clearly my Aunt had yet to understand sarcasm. I couldn’t make eye contact with this woman. I wanted so badly to be nice and sincere with her but I just could not bring myself to it. It was times like this I was glad my mother was not around anymore, she would have scolded me and made that face she always used to make when I acted “this” way. The one where she tilts her head down and to the side, lifts her eyebrows slightly, closes her eyes for longer than a blink and bites her bottom lip. Damn I miss my mom.
“Yeah. All right, well it was nice seeing you. Dad has me doing the groceries now so I really better get through this list. My algebra homework won’t do itself you know.”
I was just about to push my cart of junk food away (I lied, my dad made no list) when I heard her the click clacking of heels come after me.
“Where do you think you’re going pretty lady?”
“I have to finish shopping Aunt Lisa. I have homework.”
“Oh spare your favorite Aunt a few minuets! Tell me about your life. Oh to be young again! Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Any boys you like?”
“No. My high school is full of morons. My cat has more of a brain than any of them do.”
“Oh sweetie you have to stop hanging out with your cat and get some real human friends.”
“I have friends.”
“Just no boyfriend?’
“No. No boyfriend.”
“If you like girls that’s totally fine too! My friend Caroline has one of those lesbian daughters. I could get her number if you would like…she’s kind of manly looking…if you’re into that kind of girl and all…”
She trailed off as she rummaged around her knock off designer Coach bag for her rhinestone encrusted cell phone. She did it herself, an action in which she was for which she was far too proud.
“I am not a lesbian Aunt Lisa. I just do not have time for a relationship.”
“Looks like your don’t have time for that hair of yours either! Come on baby girl, let’s go to the cosmetic aisle. There must be something there to help us out with that bird nest on your head! No wonder that cat likes you so much, probably thinks a little robin’s nest is sitting on your head!”
“Look Aunt Lisa, I would love to stay and chat but I really need to get these errands done. Dad is kind of a mess at home, you know with mom and all, and he really needs me. You can give me makeover another weekend. Promise.”
I felt bad for playing the dead mom card but I had to. Sorry mom.
“Oh sweet you are so right! My little Claire Bear is woman of the house now! I totally understand. I felt the same way when my first husband left me., and the second.”
“I just knew you would understand.”
“I will see you later then for our makeover date! Tell your dad I say hello. Friend me on the Facebook!”
“Alright Aunt Lisa, I will.”
She blew air kisses to me as I pushed my cart as far away from hers as possible. She did get one thing right though, I was a lesbian. A big one, and my girlfriend just so happened to love my hair just the way it is- bird nest and all.

Whats Her DEAL?

I like to write. I have a lot of opinions. My teacher describes my tone as "funny, confident, yet-self deprecating." I like to blur the line between fiction and non-fiction. I use my friends names, my parents names, my own name. Do not assume the narrator is me, although it usually is. I can be cynical, pessimistic, bitter, witty, sassy, snarky ... and here it comes. I hope you get a good laugh out of this, do not take it seriously or literally- unless thats the only way you can take me seriously. But seriously, that would suck.

“If These People Go to Heaven I Want to Go to Hell”

“It’s good you have enemies, that means you have stood up for something in your life.” I once heard this quotation before, the author of this bumper sticker-worthy saying I do not know- but my inability to credit him (or her) is doing this person a great favor. What strong negative feelings you have, you must be thinking. Who cut her off on the way to class? Is she PMSing? Was she just dumped? My answers to this series of invasive questions should come as no surprise: no, no, and not exactly. But enough about me, this is not intended to be a laundry list of reasons that have made me the confident, funny yet self-deprecating young woman I am today. This (whatever this is) is intended to bring light to a few strong personalities out there that drive me absolutely nuts. In accordance with my opening quotation I would happen to fall into the “enemy” portion as opposed to the latter person who stood for something. In my defense, and on behalf of all the enemies out there, what you stand for really does not make a difference to me, how you present yourself and feelings is where my negative feelings lie.

I am not taking sides in some world war or defending the pure evil human beings that have inhabited this earth. Like I said I am simply calling to your attention a select few everyday, average, human beings most of us manage to encounter on a daily basis. We ride the bus with these people, stand behind them in line, and sit behind them in the movie theatre. You may know people who will fit the following descriptions, find comfort in knowing you are not the only one mentally plotting absurd and unrealistic ways to silence or otherwise maim them, and God forbid you actually are one of them- in which case I strongly suggest you change your ways to avoid the inevitable fate of Darwin’s natural selection. Now it is time to get you acquainted with these everyday characters, or should I say villains who I sometimes think God (or whatever God or higher being exists) put on this earth to drive me, personally, to a point of insanity or some other form of breaking point that would leave me curled into the fetal position in the dark corner of a room listing all the capital cities in the United States. I should point out that I am not addressing these types in any particular order because they all annoy me an equal and surprisingly high amount.

#1. At Least They Aren’t Cutting Their Wrists, Just Lines

The bus stop, a place where all kinds of people come together for a common purpose, united in their quest for mass transportation in the never ending battle to save the planet by saving gas and the harmful excretions those damn automobiles leave behind. I am not one of those people. I take the bus because a majority of my college classes are not on the same campus as my house. If I had my own way I would take a taxi to every class, every day, yet I lack the bank account for such action. I am not in any way leading the fight against global warming. This transportation handicap has turned me into quite the people watcher. Long minutes are spent at the bus stop waiting for one’s desired bus to arrive, the human content to exit, and then the violent daily tango students participate in to win a spot on the bus. It is the realm between waiting for people to get off and me getting on where my problem exists. If the world were a fair place the people who have been waiting for the bus longest should get on first, those who got there last should be last. But like the first lesson so many parents teach their children: life isn’t fair. This is where I begin my never-ending battle against daily injustice. The people who get to the bus stop the last minute, shimmy their way to the front of the awkward middle-school-dance-grinding cluster of students and get on the bus first make me want to drop kick a puppy the length of a football field. Since I am not a member of this horrible sub species of human I am not able to channel their warped thought process. “Oh you are running late for class?” Chances are the majority of students around you are experiencing the same thing! You have so much in common, maybe you should go talk about how you should have set your alarm earlier or not stayed up so late, in the back of the line, thanks. Dear sorority girls, wait your damn turn. Just because you have a vagina does not mean you get to cut in front of the 15 men who were waiting ahead of you. Do not argue that chivalry is dead since guys aren’t bowing at your sight or clearing the sidewalk for you to pass. Guys will not say something to you as you cut them off- coffee in one hand, blackberry in another- but if you cut me off I sure as hell will. Whoops, my elbow grazed your triple venti no foam low fat skim caramel macchiato that just happened to explode all over your white over-priced North Face jacket! Three lessons should be learned here: 1: Your stomach does not know the difference so I doubt you can taste the difference between whole and skim milk. Don’t act so picky, I saw you taking shots of whatever you could get your hands on this weekend. 2: Be smart enough to never purchase any form of white outer wear, I don’t care if Taylor Swift wore the same coat, you are not her and lets be honest, never will be. The last lesson is the greatest to be learned: do not least do not cut in front of me to get on the bus, or anyone else for that matter.

#2. The SLCUWTLC

Chances are if you have encountered a bus cutter you have also witnessed the atrocity that is the Super-Long-and-Completely-Unnecessary-but-I-Want-To-Look-Cool-at- Starbucks coffee consumer (SLCUWTLC for short). When did this become a trend? Having an unnecessarily complex coffee order is more unnatural than a grown man wearing a pair of folded, knee high, sand colored Ugg boots in public- who also happens to be your father. I order a tall mocha, that’s all there is to it. Adding low fat this, and cinnamon flavored that is an insult to the great makers of coffee and anyone with an order longer than two or three words should be slapped in the face. What’s the point of even having a menu if less than 5% of Starbucks customers’ even order something listed? Where people come up with these bizarre caffeinated recipes is beyond my comprehension and frankly something I never wish to fully grasp. Do they really know the difference between foam and no foam? Tom Hanks’ character Joe Fox in “You’ve Got Mail” put it best, “The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are, can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self.” These “people” have completely eliminated an entire career field for me, barista. If I had to listen to high maintenance spawn who can afford to add fifty unnecessary ingredients twice a day to a twenty ounce beverage I would go so out of my mind I would start to drink skinny chai tea lattes no ice just chilled whipped cream on the side too.

#3. More Annoying Than Orange Cones

Like many middle-class suburban families I was raised in a neighborhood complete with white picket fences, paved sidewalks and built-in sprinkler systems. I may be exaggerating on the fences and sprinklers but we did have a sidewalk. What a neat invention! A sidewalk is like a mini road for mothers pushing strollers, Bobby and Susie on their bikes, and dad’s power walking route. Too bad the sidewalks in my neighborhood were never used. Next time you are driving through a neighborhood fortunate to have their dollars wasted on a sidewalk take note of how many people are actually using them. Mothers in packs of four create a human roadblock on my street.

“Oh, the sidewalk is not big enough for us to walk in a ten foot line to gossip about each other wearing our weight loss sneakers and pushing our state of the art aerodynamic strollers complete with dual side air bags and hovercraft capabilities.”

I am going to propose a law to my state’s congress- if a person in a vehicle somehow injures a person walking in the street when sidewalks are available the driver is not punished but the idiot dumb enough to walk their dog in the street is fined. Use the damn sidewalk. No excuses. The worst part is if my neighborhood did not have a sidewalk I am sure some moms or dads would be petitioning the neighborhood day and night for their installation. Not because they want to utilize the safety features and the plain common sense that a sidewalk is, but because what better frames a perfectly manicured lawn (thank you, built-in sprinkler system) than a geometric cement path? Every time I actually have to drive the speed limit in my neighborhood to pass a jogger or biker using the road when there is dust blowing across the sidewalk from lack of use I fantasize about running them over and yelling, “whoops! sorry! I would have seen you if you were on the sidewalk, but instead you were the road! You know, the place designated for cars!” Yet I never yell this. I slow down and resist the urge to press my palm to my horn until it runs out and instead use my hand to salute my friendly neighbor.

#4. Forgetful Flushers

This next group of individuals is a mystery to me. Although I share a house with some of their kind, I encounter this anonymous secret society more often in the public domain. This is one of the more open groups, for it includes men and women of all ages, races, and sexual orientations. There are no initiation rites, no hazing or membership dues; all an individual must do is leave their excretions exposed for the world to see. You know, the people who “forget” to flush. I do not know how many hours I have spent in my boring classes wondering how a person could really genuinely forget to flush. As an Art and Design student I can see the toilet as a product of industrial design. The handle to flush is located just above the seat within an arm’s reach and it is often a color different than a toilet. For the pure morons out there who would prefer to have the handle right in front of their face, the sound of a toilet flushing around them should be enough to remind them to turn around. Unless you are incredibly immature and have no respect for other peoples’ gag reflexes, flush the damn toilet. I don’t care how impressive the size or color of your bodily excretion is, and I doubt other people will be impressed as well. If you really want to show it off and are particularly proud of yourself take a picture of it on your iPhone, I am sure there is an app for that.

#5. What’s up? What’s up! What the fuck? What the fuck!

The way people greet each other has changed greatly over the centuries. Mankind has gone from “good morrow lad”, to “good day”, “hey there” and now “what’s up?” Now one of these does not seem to fit. The last one of these greetings is a question. A majority of humans who use the greeting are young men. Call me old fashioned but I like saying “hello, hey there” or on a good day “howdy.” All of these greetings end in an exclamation point, not a question mark. Isn’t it rude to ask a person a question as soon as you see them? That does not sound like a greeting to me, that sounds like the start of a police station style interrogation. When I see someone and the first thing they ask me is “what’s up?” I start to sweat. A tornado of questions wreaks havoc in my mind. Am I supposed to answer what I am doing? I mean I am walking home. … but that’s not interesting. Should I tell a story? If I am having a bad day do I tell them that what’s up is my life is spinning inevitably into a black hole? Usually I just ignore the question and keep walking. Does that offend them? What if he was trying to start a conversation with me? What if I just turned down my future husband? That is my thought process. Why can’t someone just say hello back, if you want to know more about my day ask about my day, do not ask what is up. Where does that saying even come from? What does it really mean? Besides the smartass answer of “the sky” I do not know the correct answer. I beg you to please stop saying “what’s up?” as an opening line because I do not know how to answer and then you just make both of us look stupid.

#6. If I Were Colorblind It Wouldn’t Matter

Different teachers have different grading methods and techniques. To receive an A on a paper students must fulfill answer a series of questions, have proper formatting, come up with a thesis that would boggle even Aristotle’s mind, jump through flaming hoops, and survive a being shot in point-blank range. (Nothing crazy sounds pretty standard to me.) For those idiots who cannot perform such mediocre and rather boring tasks, teachers have their own little way of letting students know that grading their paper is equivalent to watching the comedy channel with a bowl of popcorn. I like to think that teachers attended a “How To Destroy Student’s Souls 101” where the focus of the course was how to use the lethal weapon known as the red pen. I am no longer going to turn in papers in black ink but red. Maybe since my paper is already red the particular Nazi correcting what is so obviously wrong to them (because I don’t suggest a way to take over the world in my essay on the female nude in Baroque Renaissance art) will back off and save some ink. Unfortunately, teachers always seem to be one step ahead. My personal favorite are teachers who correct in green pen- because receiving a paper covered in green ink really makes me feel better than seeing red. I actually had a teacher who at the beginning of the semester passed out a packet with a list numbered one to fifty. Each number was a different error. For example, one is paper margins are off and fifty is not enough proof to back up a statement. He thought students rather have their paper look like an elementary school math worksheet than a million mosquitoes were smashed into the paper’s grain. Good thing I lost that packet at the beginning of the semester. With this teacher I would like to add up all the numbers and see how high of a score I could get. Lets just say I was the reigning class champion.

#7. I Am Using All of My Rollover Minutes In Public

Last but certainly not least is the “I am going to keep talking on my phone in the library/ bus/ restaurant/ when I am checking out at the grocery store because boring the person on the other end of the line and pissing everyone off around me about my below average life is the cross I must bear and when other people listen in or glare at me I am going to shoot them a death glare or ignore them because I am that selfish and self absorbed.” I would not call that being over dramatic either. Much like the people who make their own lanes on the highway these low rung humans put themselves before everyone else all the time. Chances are the cell phone talker is also the “I am going to get on the bus ahead of everyone else” kind. I am going to start carrying around a white board that reads “I do not give a shit about (blank)” and then I will carry it around with me and fill in the blank with whatever nugget of information I hear. Living one average life is enough for me, I do not need to feel like I am living yours as well and neither does everyone else around you. Text them, call them back later, or get the hell off the bus or out of the library. My response may be rude or inconsiderate but like Newton said, “every action has an equal and opposite reaction.” That is a law for a reason.

I am waiting for Darwin’s theory of natural selection and survival of the fittest to bring a reign of karma upon this series of subspecies. I may not be able to predict the future but one thing I know for certain, if on judgment day I am behind a person at the gates of Heaven talking on their cell phone for the saints to hear and the first thing they say is “what’s up” I sure as hell am not sharing a cloud with them and request a transfer to you know where.

#8. The Worst of Them All

Here is the twist you have been waiting for (the undeclared confession of love, the double agent, the resurrection). Right now you either love me or hate me for my extreme opinions. The truth is, it really doesn’t matter how I made you feel because you listened. I guarantee you read this all the way through. I hooked you, with my title; with my witty one-liners that you inevitably underlined as you read this (whatever this is). My trick is simple really, the only way to really capture an audience and leave them thinking about your words for hours is to have an extreme opinion and stick to it. People will love you or hate you for your opinion but ultimately they will respect you. Doesn’t matter what you take a stance on. You could claim the world is going to blow up in 2012 hours or that Tom Cruise really isn’t crazy, just stick to it. Lie, manipulate, do whatever you have to just to convince your readers you are right. Pick an easy target, use some big words; throw in a joke or two. Get them laughing. I like to call this the fast track to the top. This kind of person is more dangerous and ultimately more annoying than any one of the stereotypes I have created one through seven. This kind of person can uses words to get you to join their dark side. Who knows, you yourself could be a coffee drinking forgetful flusher and end up hating yourself, when really it is not a big deal at all. I just made it seem like one, and look at that, you believed me.

See you there; I’ll save you a seat.