I Spy (Or Am Spied, Or Am Near a Spy, Or Something Else Spy-Related)

I Spy (Or Am Spied, Or Am Near a Spy, Or Something Else Spy-Related)

Friday, March 29, 2013

No comments

I'd been in D.C. for only about two hours when my old stomping grounds (hate that phrase) did me a favor by being really, really weird, just like I'd remembered it to be.

I was sitting in a little faux-park in Dupont Circle, one of those cement spaces with benches & pigeons where businesspeople can escape their cubicles & eat lunch outside on sunny days, smack in the middle of crazy traffic of both the vehicular & pedestrian varieties. I was eating a bowl of meatballs & rice from Shophouse, which I lovingly refer to as "Asian Chipotle," while waiting for a friend to join me, when a normal-looking middle-aged woman sat down on the bench next to me.

She was... well, a normal-looking middle-aged woman in every sense of the word. Chin-length grey hair, yoga capris, a puffy jacket, clogs. She looked like she could've been my mother, if I permitted my mother to leave the house wearing clogs (love you, Mom). I wouldn't have thought anything special of her, except...

When she sat down, I heard her mutter, "No change" - but still, nothing registered on my weird-o-meter. Maybe she had a meter to feed & was aggravated to realize she couldn't? Or hates Barack Obama? Or... something? Sometimes people talk to themselves (love you, Mom). NBD, right?

Thirty seconds later, I heard her say it again: "No change." I couldn't see a phone or an earpiece, but I assumed she was taking a call by Bluetooth - or was a crazy person. DC is prone to both of those types of individuals, so again, not a huge deal.

But then, for the third time: "Still no change."

That's when it hit me: This woman was surveilling something - or someone. As I tried to process what was happening, she spotted her target. Though I couldn't make out everything she said over the jackhammering going on a block away, what I made out was approximately this: "Subject is approaching near Metro. He's wearing a short leather jacket and brown shoes. He has a military-style haircut & appears to be about 30 years old." Unfortunately, try as I might to identify the subject of her surveillance, I couldn't figure out who she was talking about without looking like a total busybody. 

Obviously, my train of thought from there went like this:

1. "Am I on Betty White's Off Their Rockers? That show where old people prank young people? That could totally be happening right now. Play it cool, Kate, play it cool."
2. "Holy shit, this is just like Law and Order. Plainclothes detectives! Who else within my line of sight is an undercover police officer? Is this a drug bust or a sex scandal? Wait, is this Scandal?!"
3. "Tweet this immediately. Duh."
4. "Things like this happen all the time in D.C., remember? My God, I miss this shit."

Read More

GTL, with Serious Emphasis on the G

GTL, with Serious Emphasis on the G

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

No comments

Maybe I should just change the name of this blog to "Overheard at Starbucks." Today, I was seated next to a muttery old man who spends about as much time there as I do, but mumbling angry sentiments under his breath, much like Joe Pesci's character in "Home Alone" but without PG nonsense words like "riggum frackin" & instead with profanity like "goddamn motherfucking shit fuckers." I spent an hour crossing my legs tightly instead of going to the restroom because I didn't want to have to speak to him to ask him to keep an eye on my stuff.

When he left, three girls (women?) a little younger than me took his place. They kindly watched over my stuff & ensured I was not robbed during my bathroom break; upon my return, I repaid them by eavesdropping on their conversation because that's my jam & because so many people here have Jersey voices that I just can't help myself.

One of the girls was a bodybuilder. I know this because the other two girls (who were sisters & decidedly not bodybuilders, if you catch my meaning, in much the way that I am decidedly not a bodybuilder) asked her approximately two jillion questions about it. Here's what I learned:

1. Yes, being a bodybuilder is expensive – like, what-is-your-job expensive. Her trainer costs $500 a month, & the entry fee for her latest bodybuilding show is $400, plus the cost of paying for monthly testing to ensure that she's not Lance Armstronging the whole thing. That's already the cost of Nate's & my monthly rent. Ain't nobody got time money for that!
   
   
2. Yes, being a bodybuilder is difficult. For some period of time before competitions, she only consumes liquid. Liquid everything. Protein shakes, smoothies, juices, & all the coffee she wants. Can you turn that spaghetti into liquid? Then OK, she can have it. No? You can't? Then kindly GTFO.
   
   
3. Yes, bodybuilders miss real food. She has a "friend" who is fond of texting her photos of delicious desserts – tiramisu, doughnuts, cupcakes! She wants the friend to stop because it makes her feel like crap, but she doesn't feel like she can ask her to without calling her out on being a huge B. (And yes, this part made me feel bad for her because bodybuilders are people, too, & that friend clearly sucks.)
   
   
4. Yes, bodybuilders indulge sometimes. She ate flan as a Christmas treat, which "isn't that unhealthy, just loaded with sugar." So take that, dessert-texting frenemy! (PS: Uhh, flan? Some treat. Gimme some Reese's trees.)
   
   
5. Yes, being a bodybuilder is worth it. If she wins the upcoming competition, she can "get a pro card" to keep competing. Because after all you've learned about it, doesn't bodybuilding sound fun?!? Best prize everrrrr.

Eventually, they changed the topic: "What did you get for Christmas?" one of the sisters asked the bodybuilder.

"UGGs," she answered, "and a new tanning membership."

Oh, New Jersey. You just make it so easy.


Pssst! Have you liked Suburban Sweetheart yet on Facebook?

Read More

"Jersey Voices" & A Potential Brush With Fame in a Suburban Starbucks

"Jersey Voices" & A Potential Brush With Fame in a Suburban Starbucks

Friday, December 21, 2012

1 comment

I am, by nature, an eavesdropper &, OK, a little bit of a gossip. I like to be in the know. When I was growing up, we had a neighbor who somehow seemed to know all the local dirt on the folks in our development; I secretly aspired to someday be such a person. While this quality (& my accompanying inability to keep secrets) has, at times, gotten me into trouble, it also lent itself well to my desire to be a journalist – someone who uncovers dirt & tells stories people about it for a living.

Alas, I did not grow up to be the journalist that my young "Newsies"-worshiping self once aspired to be, so this "skill" lies professionally dormant. It does, however, come in handy for overhearing interesting things in coffee shops.

Today, for example, I sort of wanted to throttle the three women sitting near me while I worked at Starbucks. They were very, very loud. Not on purpose necessarily, but they just were, you know? Those people whose voices that carry – Jersey voices, as I've come to think of them. You didn't have to be an expert eavesdropper to hear every word of their conversation, which was replete with, among other things, lots of raunchy references to getting it on with basically every man they've ever met. Pro tip, ladies: If you're gonna talk sex in public, bring it down a notch.

I digress. One of the women was particularly obnoxious, very tiny & pretty & louder than the other two, occasionally bursting into overdramatic song along the Starbucks soundtrack. In every other sentence she mentioned "the show," which lead me to believe she was a performer of some sort. Then, after admiring a particularly cute child, I heard her say, "You should see the adorable kids that come to the show, all dressed up for Mary Poppins on Broadway."

And just like that – activate celebrity sensors.

A hint! A clue! My Google skills went into overdrive! A member of the cast, surely. Right? Shortly afterward, I heard her say something about how her last name should be difficult to determine on Facebook & how she went on a date with a guy who, much to her dismay, discovered her real name & her work website. Despite her dating woes, my ears perked up, because... website? Obviously she was an (aspriring?) actress. So I Googled the cast, including understudies & ensemble... but I found no familiar faces. I conferred with my best Broadway experts, friends who obsess over the Great White Way. And then, between their sex chats, I heard one of the other girls refer to "Kelly's Dating Rules," so I Googled all things related to "Mary Poppins Broadway Kelly/Kelley/Kelli/Kellie." And when I couldn't find anything that seemed to match, I looked up the Playbook. And when I still couldn't find anything that seemed to match, I kept looking. Because I'm the kind of person who will spend three hours Googling something just so that I can return to you with breaking news. Which is, yeah, a little Asperger'sy, if you want to get clinical about it. 

This went on for hours, until I, the dejected former journalist, finally ran out of things to Google. It was only then that I heard it, my final clue: "At the show, we used to have to bring our own black, button-up shirts, & then they started providing us with them. Everyone at all of the theaters has to wear them now..."

It took three hours for me to determine that I was sitting next to a theater usher.

Damn you, NYC suburbs.

Read More

Things You Shouldn't Yell in a Starbucks

Things You Shouldn't Yell in a Starbucks

Thursday, January 26, 2012

No comments

"STALIN WAS A FRAUD!"

Tell that to the two old men sitting caddy-corner from me. I'm actually biting my tongue in an attempt not to laugh. Except... I sort of wonder if these guys are Holocaust deniers, too. Less funny.

I liked the Rahhhhbit Buble conversation a lot better.

WAIT. I just heard him mention "The Greatest Tenor in the World, Jonas Kaufmann," which means this convo is taking a distinctly Buble turn! And while the name "Jonas Kaufmann" might lead you to believe that the tenor is, in fact, Jewish, Google gives me no evidence of that. But wait! But wait! The guy is now talking about the Holocaust - one of his closest friends lost his parents in a concentration camp.

OK, so I'm glad they're not deniers, but AM I A PSYCHIC, OR WHAT?

Photo credit

Read More

Just Another Day at the Office

Just Another Day at the Office

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

No comments

The following is a real conversation, as word-for-word as I could transcribe it while it happened, that occurred at my downtown Starbucks. Please imagine, if you will, that the star of this conversation is a 60-something (Jewish?) woman with a high-pitched, nasally voice & an accent that's a cross between Boston & the Bronx, resulting in what can only be described as "Fran Drescher Does 'The Departed,'" with a bit of "Coffee Talk" thrown in for good measure. Tawk amongst y'selves.

*****

Woman: "Y'know that guyyy? Buble, somethin'? His name is Buble? I don't know his first name. I think it's Rahhhbit. You know who I'm talkin' about?"

Barista: "No, sorry, no idea."

Woman: "You know, he's got that song, the one about the girl he hasn't met? I think he's singin' it on a bus, maybe, to this girl he doesn't even know. And it's amazing, he's a real singer, he'll met your heart."

Barista: "Well, he's a dude, so I don't... I don't know if dudes can melt my heart."

Woman: "This guy! This guy could. But you know who I mean? The Buble guy? Is his name Rahhhhbit?"

Me: "His name is Michael."

Woman: "MICHAEL! MICHAEL BUBLE! That's him, yeah! And he's singing about this girl, but he never metta. He sounds a little bit like Sinahhtra. This guy's somethin' else, man, Jesus.I have to go to Canada, that's where he's from. He's probably got a million girlfriends. I wish I could meet a guy like that."

*****

Note: If you're not familiar with this song, here's a video of my mom singing it.

Image source

Read More

Bow-tied Men Say Things Like This On the Metro:

Bow-tied Men Say Things Like This On the Metro:

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

2 comments

"That is the curse of the human male -- to compete and to validate both with the father. It is a constant struggle; it is neither good nor bad."

Read More

Beverage Wars

Beverage Wars

Saturday, May 17, 2008

2 comments

The Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority has some pretty strict rules about eating & drinking on the district's mostly-very-clean Metro traincars. Rumor has it that a 13-year-old girl was once fined $300 for drinking a Diet Coke on her way home from school.

Yesterday, I stopped to purchase a grande skim iced Chai latte on my way into work (late). Usually I hide such beverage luxuries in my purse during my train ride, but this particular day. I'd decided I didn't much care, & sipped my drink within eyeshot of the viewing public. The cranky old bastard behind me was quick to chime in:

Him: "You know you're not supposed to have that on here."
Me (not turning around to look at him): "Yep."
Him: "Oh, but you're special."
Me: "OK."
Him: "Just don't spill that."
Me: "I wasn't planning to."
Him: "I'm serious, don't spill it."

I wonder how Mr. Citizen's Arrest would've reacted to the sight I witnessed later that evening during my redline trip to Rockville:


Make no mistake, there's still about a centimeter of MGD left in the bottom of that bottle. Classy!

Read More

With Justice & TV Drama For All

With Justice & TV Drama For All

Friday, January 18, 2008

1 comment

Girl on Train: “So what do you think of Fred Thompson?”

Guy on Train: “I think he’s better off going back to being Arthur Branch.”

Girl: “Really? I think he’s so inspiring.”

Guy: “…Arthur Branch inspires me.”

Read More

"She Makes the City Seem Like Home"

"She Makes the City Seem Like Home"

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

No comments

Best thing I've evereverever heard, spoken by a male Starbucks employee in a slow Jamaican drawl: "If I don't get another job, I'm gonna make another baby. That's what I'm worried about." I almost spit out my grande skim chai latte when I heard that one; he didn't seem to find humor in it, which, of course, made it that much funnier.

I was worried today that I'd found a mouse pellet on my hardwood floor... I was, however, quite relieved to find that it was only a rather large fuzz from my new brown sweater. Speaking of rodents, though, I saw an undetermined species of rodent skittering across the sidewalk this afternoon. Is it disgusting if I thought it was sort of cute? I swear it wasn't some big Shredder-style sewer rat; just a waddly little mouse.

I know the city's starting to feel like home: I spent Thanksgiving in the boondocks of sweet Lima, Ohio, & after fewer than 24 hours, I pined to be back in the District. As soon as I got home I indulged in some Sala Thai spicy fried rice & the comfort of my solo apartment. That's not to say that the travel experience itself wasn't a trip (no pun intended) (that's a lie; it was totally intended). Let's recount, shall we?

• On the way to the airport, my cab driver was listening to a sweet-voiced, Nora Jones-sounding female guitarist strum an acoustic ballad with the lyrics, "Child molestation isn't funny - HA!" and "Open access abortion in every city - but no gun control!"
• Later, sitting in Reagan National Airport, I chuckled to myself as the USAirways folks announced, "Paging passenger Landon Bridges. Mr. LANDON BRIDGES, report to gate 36A." Sneaky parentals on that one, huh?
• In other incredible name news, the guy who took my order at DCA's Cosi was named -- and I kid you not -- HAMLET. I swear on my life. The receipt even said it. That guy's parents effing despise him.

Life, my friends, is so good.

(just not to that guy)

Read More

Overheard on the Redline

Overheard on the Redline

Saturday, November 10, 2007

2 comments

Dead-Serious Girl: "But I've never kicked anyone in the balls after sex."

**********

Woman on Platform: "The train is here."

Her Sassy Male Friend: "Wow. Your cat-like observations really astound me sometimes."

**********

Somewhat-Intelligent Twenty-Something: "Dude, you're not going to get lead poisoning from holding a fucking pencil."
His Less Fortunate Friend: "I'm not taking any chances, man. I'm using pens from now on."

**********

Befuddled Woman on Blackberry: (to me) "How do you spell cognizant?"
Me: "C-O-G-N-I-Z-A-N-T."
Woman on Blackberry: "That's what I thought, but that Z looked errant."

Read More

Public Nudity & Spreading the Love

Public Nudity & Spreading the Love

Thursday, October 18, 2007

No comments

Overheard today at the Q Street entrance to the Metro, spoken by a tidy if still unattractive young professional on a Blackberry: "Dude, I just had a physical in the spring, so she definitely didn't catch that from me."

I guess there's nothing like a public announcement of genital cleanliness to catch the single ladies' attention, right? Perhaps he'd be welcomed at this event, also advertised in the circle:



I don't exactly know what this means -- or, for that matter, when it's taking place -- but it sounds catchy.

No pun intended.

Read More