lifebeyondexaggeration

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stranger

The Chatty Husband May 15, 2018

I have this thing about being in public. Sometimes, strangers talk to you. It’s a real problem for me.

I’m not an introvert by any means, but I don’t want to chat with the person behind me in line who compliments the voicemail I just left my mother. I don’t really want to know why the person on the plane next to me is flying to D.C. And I really, really don’t want to know why the awkward stranger in the coffee shop really loves any song.

I’m happy watching people without interacting. I’m totally fine with chatting with patrons after a performance. But I have a strong stranger danger button.

My husband, however, really likes chatting to people. All the damn time. We get stuck in hotel lobbies, waylaid by elderly women who want to detail exactly what we should try at the continental breakfast the next day. We spend extra time in rest stops hearing about how the gas attendant has never left their home state.

I mock him for it, I grumble at him when we run late because of it. But—and I really hate to admit this—every once in a while, he meets someone really cool.

I’ll let him tell you about it.

I stood in line at a Starbucks in Chicago the other day when a gentleman in his 50s or so cut the line. (more…)

 

Dirty Laundry in the Cozy Café (Rated PG-13) October 12, 2016

This week my husband and I celebrated our thirteen year dating anniversary! Since we’ve been so busy, we decided to keep it low key and had a coffee and chess date at a café one of our friends had told us about. The place was super cool: a C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien themed café. I had a Silver Sea cappuccino and a Reepicheep grilled cheese.

We had brought our own travel chess set, but one of the tables was already set with a Lord of the Rings board and pieces. Just so you know, playing with a themed set is way harder than playing with a normal set. I mean, first of all, the pieces all look super different, which is confusing, and I feel different about sacrificing a pawn when it’s a hobbit. The emotional connotation is just really different.

Things were going really well until the guys at the bar started talking about cats… and their mothers. One of the guys, a gentleman I would place at about fifty said, “My mother was always awful. She said I was just like my father. But I told her, I’m not like my father, I’m not a rapist.” (more…)

 

Gird Your Loins August 1, 2015

My husband and I have been together for nearly twelve years. Needless to say, he’s learned a lot of Megan survival skills. Things like if she’s crying, feed her. If you try and move her covers when she’s sleeping, Megan will consider this a death threat and kick you as hard as she can.

Sadly, or maybe pathetically, though expectedly is probably the most accurate word, the time he needs his survival skills most is in the morning. Through the years, we have developed a routine for optimal lack of tears and least time curled up in a ball fighting the fact the being a grownup means getting out of my warm sheets.

When we’re living someplace with a kitchen, which is currently and unfortunately not the case, the first alarm goes off. I kick him in the shins till the husband cuddles me. For this time period, I prefer to be the little spoon and have my butt snuggled. We lay there, waiting for the second alarm fifteen minutes later. After the second alarm, I have five minutes to curl up on his shoulder, a thing which can never be allowed when sleep is expected because of the copious amount of drool this produces.

After the third alarm, he gets up and goes to make smoothies. (more…)

 

The Cop in the TARDIS December 20, 2014

Filed under: Tales of Humanity's Imperfections — meganorussell @ 10:48 am
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

I went as a TARDIS for Halloween this year. Besides being a huge Doctor Who fan and thinking it was a great costume idea, I really just wanted the sundress. And since I’m in sunny Florida right now, I’ve been wearing my pretty blue TARDIS dress on a regular basis.

This week, I was in Starbucks after a matinee performance, wearing my TARDIS dress. As I was ordering my coffee, the barista looked at me and said, “Are you a cop?”

I blinked for a moment, assuming that she had seen my fake eyelashes and thought I was working Vice as a fake hooker, but then I noticed she was looking at my TARDIS dress.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s a TARDIS dress.”

“Cause that’s a really great cop uniform,” the girl said, still clearly not getting it.

“Like a TARDIS from Doctor Who,” I kindly clarified.

“Oh.” She smiled. “You’re an English cop. I hope we have pretty cop uniforms in America soon.”

Sweet Jesus, I’m glad she made a bangin’ cup of coffee, because if she thinks cops wear sundresses, she may be a coffee savant.