Met with Sophia (my mentee) today. A lot of talking, a lot of laughing, some writing, some planning for Saturday’s workshop. After we hugged goodbye, I walked up the street, headed back to my office.
Coming toward me down the block was a group of five adolescent boys, a couple of tall ones and three small ones. They were all bunched together and doing something that had their arms in all kinds of odd raised and bent positions. I couldn’t make any sense of them at first. Then I realized one of the small ones had a can of Reddi Wip (which I didn’t know until just now is spelled this way). He was sharing it with the others. Sharing how, you might ask. Yeah. He sprayed whipped cream directly into the mouth of one friend, into the hands of another (yuck!), and — most alarming — into the Red Bull can of another! (Double yuck!) As I passed them, one of the tall boys had splayed himself against a wall with his mouth open, ready to get sprayed.
Boys be weird, yo.
I turned off that street to head over to my building. There were two women walking behind me. Content Warning: This story contains … ahem … mention of genitalia!
“You know, this is something I can do for myself. So, if I’m going to pay someone to do it, I’m going to give a big tip.”
“My nails. This is — what do you call that, when you could do it yourself but you get someone else to do it?”
“No, like … it’s a luxury. It’s some messy job I could do but don’t want to. So I give a big tip.”
“Cause you feel guilty.”
“I guess. A little, maybe. Like, if I wasn’t doing it myself, if I was paying some woman to wax my vagina, I’d give her a BIG tip. I’m saying.”
Grown women be weird, too!
That title? It’s from a long-ago comment, from the first time I wanted to name a post “Overheard.”
It’s the 10th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!
Head over to Two Writing Teachers to see all of today’s slices!