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<\/a> <\/div>\n\tToday I\u2019m supposed to be meeting my sister Margie here at Sal\u2019s Diner near my apartment. She has something important to tell me, supposedly. I got this text from her saying in all caps: \u201cMARY IMPOTANT & UGENT: I MUST MEET U AT SALE\u2019S DINNER AT ON PM SHARP. I NO U SEAM TO LIKE IT. DONUT BE LATE MARY. HAVE IMPOTENT NEWS\u201d. With superior typing skills like that, it\u2019s no wonder she\u2019s an executive secretary. What do you think?<\/p>\n
\tSo here I am, waiting in a booth at Sal\u2019s Diner, waiting for Margie\u2019s ‘impotent’ news. It’s one-twenty pm, which means my sister is twenty minutes late. I\u2019d text her to see what\u2019s going on with her, but I already know how that one is going to go. She\u2019ll just text me back saying I\u2019m impatient and have no consideration for others, and besides I\u2019m wasting her minutes. She still hasn\u2019t heard of unlimited minutes, it seems.<\/p>\n
\tThe server, a bored girl named Nancy, has already asked me a couple of times if I want something to eat even though I told her I\u2019m waiting for someone. I\u2019ve had Nancy serve me before here. She doesn\u2019t say much and smiles next to never, but as an aspiring actor I\u2019ve waited tables before myself and know the work isn\u2019t particularly thrilling. That is, unless you like cranky people yelling at you from every turn. That\u2019s been my experience, at least. <\/p>\n
\tI’m just beginning to think I\u2019ve been stood up and take Nancy up on ordering my food when lo and behold, my regal sister decides to grace us with her presence, carrying two huge bags with her. That is, if you consider someone lumbering through the door gracing someone with your presence. Margie huffs and puffs and blows her way towards me. If I didn\u2019t know her, I\u2019d feel like I was being singled out for attack by a rabid rhinoceros dressed in sweaters and pants and chunky shoes. I don\u2019t know why she has those shoes anyway, seeing that she clunks enough naturally. Everyone she passes makes way for her as she does. I don\u2019t think it\u2019s because they think she\u2019s a royal. Even though, knowing her, she probably does. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cMary! What a surprise!\u201d she yells in my face when she gets to two inches from me. To an outsider this might appear that this is a joyful random encounter between women. But me, I know it\u2019s Margie-speak for, I assumed you\u2019d be too dumb to show up on time. Even though she never does, but if you tell her that, you just are being argumentative. Believe me, I\u2019ve had twenty-eight years of practice.<\/p>\n
\tSo I just reply, \u201cYeah, it is,\u201d even though I know that\u2019s a completely stupid thing to say, not to mention a lie fatter than my sister. Well, what can I tell you. This is my life. But maybe she\u2019s right. I\u2019m surprised I was stupid enough to show up here to subject myself to what I know is going to be an onslaught of abuse. <\/p>\n
\tBut I suck up my annoyance, best I can. After all, I\u2019m an actor and I can do these things. I go up to her and hug her first. Before she can knock me over with one of her faux smotherly love deals. Pretending to have control is always a nice thing for a victim to feel, I\u2019ve found. <\/p>\n
\tMargie reciprocates, then holds me at arm\u2019s length like I\u2019m one of the sweaters she loves so much from the mid-range department stores she likes to haunt. \u201cMary! Have you been taking care of yourself like I told you to do?\u201d she exclaims.<\/p>\n
\tI know what this is code for, in one word: dieting. She\u2019s after me to lose weight. She\u2019s decided I can\u2019t get a guy with because I don\u2019t diet. Problem with that logic is that I\u2019ve been with my boyfriend Ralph for six years. Let\u2019s put it this way, he doesn\u2019t mind my so-called fattiness any. And yes, he is real. But try telling her that. I\u2019ve certainly given up. <\/p>\n
\tTo get her to move on quickly to something else, I should just answer her and say oh yes, Margie, but you know how it goes! But I don\u2019t say that. I don\u2019t know exactly what it is that makes me fudge my lines. Maybe it\u2019s her perfume, which smells like someone ravaged a cosmetics department, but I feel stuffy. And not particularly charitable. So I say a little too huffily, \u201cYeah. Sure I have. What about it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tShe frowns. \u201cOh, Mary. What do you weigh?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tSee? See what I mean with her? Right in the middle of a diner, this is what she asks. But I knew this was going to happen. When will I learn.<\/p>\n
\tSo I say (truthfully, I might add), \u201cI don\u2019t really know.\u201d Which is true, definitely true. Last time I weighed myself, which was last time I auditioned a month ago for a part in a play, I was 150. At five six, that doesn\u2019t exactly make me Kate Moss, but I walk a lot and have a relatively large frame. I would, though, like to make it down to 140, but don\u2019t tell Margie that. <\/p>\n
\tMargie must smell some kind of deceit on me with my \u2018I don\u2019t really know\u2019 response, because she groans in reply. And when I say she groans, I mean groans. A full, pot-bellied, deep in her diaphragm groan. \u201cMary,\u201d she breathes. \u201cYou should take better care of yourself, like me.\u201d Did I mention I was five six and 150? Margie is taller than me\u2013 \u201cOne inch taller and thirteen months older makes me the superior one\u201d is her peppy little joke\u2013 but weighs 190. At least she was after the last crash diet. I don\u2019t know for sure what she is now, but I\u2019ve seen the wool business suit she\u2019s wearing before, and if I might say so myself, it looks a little tight. But maybe that\u2019s me being peevish. <\/p>\n
\tSo I say to her, \u201cWell, it\u2019s not so bad, I guess. These clothes are from last year, and they still fit.\u201d I want to sit down. Everyone is staring at us. <\/p>\n
\tBut good ole sis don\u2019t care, it seems. She\u2019s still holding onto me. \u201cYes, Mary. I know. It looks it. You need to buy new clothes, Mary. Show some self-esteem. Decent guys like girls who take care of themselves and look nice. Like me.\u201d <\/p>\n
\tRight. Like some old fuddy-duddy brown sweater and grey pants suit from Marshall\u2019s is any more appealing than my jeans and T-shirt from Target. But don\u2019t tell Margie that. She\u2019s now busy running her hands over her matronly outfit, I guess to model a girl who supposedly takes care of herself and looks nice, like she’s decided. <\/p>\n
\tIn the midst of her expertise demonstration, Margie\u2019s elbow juts out enough to knock into Nancy as she fails to duck away from my sister\u2019s clobbering limb. Nancy is carrying a tray of food and practically knocks it over. Margie notices this scene just enough to say to me, \u201cMary, why are you standing in the middle of the aisle? You almost made the waitress drop the food, and God only knows in a place like this we don\u2019t want them to mess up any more than we can help it. At least, I think so. Maybe someone like you doesn\u2019t care, but I do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tDid I mention that she\u2019s divorced? Surprised, any?<\/p>\n
\tWith that, she plumps her plump rump into a seat, and the next phase of my torture is now underway. I duck into my booth across from her, feeling just exactly the same way I have since before I can remember. Really, really, embarrassed to be associated in any way with her, or anyone in my family for that matter. It\u2019s amazing how you can revert to childhood in one split second, no matter how hard you try to do so otherwise. <\/p>\n
\tNancy appears with menus, plopping them on the table in front of us without a word. Margie scrutinizes her by scrunching her eyes into slits. Oh, God, I know that look. I practically lose my appetite, bracing myself for what\u2019s coming next. \u201cExcuse me, little girl. Don\u2019t you have any respect for your elders?\u201d my sister barks at her.<\/p>\n
\tNancy looks at Margie like she just met Jigsaw from the Saw movies on a blind date. Jesus, I feel bad. I\u2019m never going to be able to come to this place, ever again. \u201cHuh???\u201d is what she manages. I\u2019m surprised she did that well. I wouldn\u2019t. And I\u2019m an actor.<\/p>\n
\tMargie points a chubby hand towards herself. \u201cWe\u201d\u2013 she\u2019s still pointing at herself, so I guess \u201cwe\u201d means Margie, she and herself\u2013 \u201care older than you. Not to mention, we are customers. So, you should smile. Like this.\u201d She smiles her bubbly baloney smile, the kind that makes my parents oh-so-proud and me want to cringe. Like now. \u201cAnd then say. Hello. How do you do. That\u2019s what I do, and look at me.\u201d I hope to God she isn\u2019t going to give herself the royal pat-down again, and even God must realize how desperate the situation is because she does refrain from that, at least. But Nancy is still giving Margie the freak-out look, and I just can\u2019t stand that I\u2019m actually related to the nut sitting in front of me. Just like in childhood and on every Thanksgiving, I start slinking in my chair.<\/p>\n
\tNancy seems to recover somewhat, meaning that what she recovers is her nonchalance, and looks at the table. \u201cWhatever,\u201d she says to it, shrugging. She turns briefly to me to ask, \u201cWant water?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cOf course we do! You have to ask that?\u201d As you may imagine, that\u2019s not me answering. I just nod at Nancy, who responds by nodding back, and she hurries away. I watch her disappear into the kitchen. Take me, please?<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI can\u2019t believe that!\u201d Margie is rolling her eyes to the heavens, like she\u2019s involved in one of those charismatic religions where they do that sort of thing and then flop on the floor writhing. \u201cWhat rude service people! They don\u2019t just bring water here? They have to ask? I can\u2019t believe you come here\u2013oh wait, never mind. I take that back.\u201d She nods her head like the teacher\u2019s pet looking for doggie treats from her master. Isn\u2019t it nice she\u2019s so sincere?<\/p>\n
\t\u201cThere\u2019s a water shortage. That\u2019s why they ask.\u201d I reply. I use every acting tactic I know to keep my voice even. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cIn this part of town, maybe. Not where I live, there is.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tOkay, that didn\u2019t even really make sense, I know. But I can get the drift, Margie being my sister, and all. More derision towards me and my supposed low-class ways. Unlike, of course, classy her. Look what I do to her, subjecting her to such lowlifes! I should be so ashamed. Think I am?<\/p>\n
\tIn the meantime, Margie shrugs her shoulders. \u201cWell, I don\u2019t care what kind of mismanagement is going on, but if she\u2019s expecting some kind of tip, she\u2019d better clean up her act.\u201d She nods in decisive action, trying to look authoritative. It doesn\u2019t quite work. She just looks like Alvin from the Chipmunks having a temper tantrum. <\/p>\n
\tShe then furrows her brow. In Margie-speak, this means she\u2019s envisioning serious business. \u201cSpeaking of cleaning up somebody\u2019s act,\u201d Margie says as she levels her eyes at me, expecting me to look back. As an actor, I could muster up the will to do so. But as her sister, I just don\u2019t feel like it. I\u2019m just not in the mood to be bossed around. So I don\u2019t. And mercifully, Nancy comes back with the water, breaking up my torture session for one heavenly moment.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI wouldn\u2019t think you have any specials, do you?\u201d Margie sticks her rhino face into Nancy\u2019s arm. Nancy looks the way I imagine a fish baited onto a hook when it realizes it\u2019s caught into a trap.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cWhat makes you think that?\u201d Nancy says, her brow furrowed like she can\u2019t choose between anger and confusion. I don\u2019t blame her. Neither can I.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cQuestion with a question!\u201d Margie does her tsk-tsk routine, which amounts to her pursing her lips and clucking her tongue incessantly until you scream at her to stop. She learned it from a commercial where some woman set the kids straight with some kind of spearmint gum, I forget which kind. Our parents think it\u2019s cute.<\/p>\n
\tNancy still has that perplexed look. \u201cWhatever,\u201d she barks. My sister is an idiot. I try to beg for forgiveness from Nancy with my facial expression without saying anything. Nancy raises her eyebrows at me for a second. \u201cWe have some eggplant parmigiana and a Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes and gravy,\u201d she says to me.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cOh heavens. We\u2019re not eating slop like that,\u201d my sister snaps. \u201cCan\u2019t you see we are girls who watch our weight? Please. I\u2019ll just look at the menu and hope for the best.\u201d With that, she manhandles the menu in front of her, knocking mine to the ground, and gets down to business searching the menu, tsk-tsk-tsking as she goes. She\u2019s wearing her don\u2019t mess with me look on her face. To just about everyone else, it just looks like she\u2019s an anal dork. <\/p>\n
\tIn response to this, Nancy raises her eyebrows and rolls her eyes, but doesn\u2019t seem as baffled anymore. Instead she just looks at me as she retrieves the menu from under the table, saying \u201cYou need this?\u201d <\/p>\n
\t\u201cOf course she does! We\u2019re not eating slop!\u201d As I\u2019m using my actor\u2019s skills to ignore my sister for my sanity\u2019s sake, I interpret her voice coming from some distance. Directing my attention to Nancy, I shake my head, and she walks away with my menu while Margie chews hers with her eyes. Even not looking at her directly, I know this is what she does. Twenty-eight years experience gives me the pleasure of knowing this. <\/p>\n
\tSome antennae seems to have alerted Margie that something is amiss with her world, because she looks up from her oh-so-busy task of tsk-tsk-tsking to scrutinize me, and my menuless state. \u201cWhy aren\u2019t you looking at a menu? You\u2019re going to have that disgusting food? You really are letting yourself go, aren\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tShe\u2019s such an idiot. I\u2019d tell her I\u2019m planning on getting what I usually do, a chef salad with dressing on the side, but I\u2019m sure I\u2019d hear about that one. I just want my torture to be over. So I signal Nancy that I\u2019m ready the second that Margie sticks her nose back into all those oh-so-horrible choices. Besides, Margie\u2019s tsk-tsk-tsking makes me want to throw my glass of water at her. I refrain, because I\u2019ll never have a chance at a peaceful Thanksgiving or Christmas ever again. Not that they\u2019re delightful as it is.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI think we\u2019re ready,\u201d I tell Nancy. She gives me a dubious look, but if it were up to Margie, we\u2019d be here until next year while she screams in horror at the selections she\u2019s been subjected to all for the low-class likes of me. So I nod my head in confirmation, and Nancy readies her pen.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI think I\u2019ll have my usual,\u201d I say, hoping to sidestep any dissection of my culinary choices. But it doesn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cWhat\u2019s your usual?\u201d Margie shoots out like bullets. Even Nancy seems thrown by the recoil.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cChef salad with Italian. Problem with that?\u201d I return. Why am I asking that? I know she has a problem with it. She\u2019d probably have a snip attack over my choice of beverage. Which by the way, is water. It probably bloats me up and no guy will want me, or something. Unlike her rip-roaring love life.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou don\u2019t have to get snippy with me. I\u2019m just asking.\u201d She looks at Nancy and rolls her eyes, I guess expecting Nancy to take her side. Nancy looks back at her with a look like, Really? You expect sympathy from me after your crap? <\/p>\n
\tYes, Nancy, she does. Welcome to my world.<\/p>\n
\tMargie leans forward. She\u2019s recovered from her shock to beat all shocks of Nancy\u2019s rejection, and she\u2019s on a roll. \u201cDoesn\u2019t that kind of salad have cheese in it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cUh, yeah. It\u2019s a chef salad. What do you think it has?\u201d Question with a question! I\u2019m expecting to hear. But no, my sister has other plans for my slow demise.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI thought you were swearing off cheese. Because you promised you\u2019d be watching your weight.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tYou think after twenty-eight years of practice I\u2019d be used to Margie\u2019s making up facts as she goes along. I\u2019m not. I forget how much she\u2019s like our mother. Two peas in a pod, they like to sing. Even after all my acting lessons, I\u2019m still sideswiped by her, by both of them, every time.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI never said that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tMargie rolls her eyes in that catatonic way again. \u201cYou never pay attention to anything you say. Mom is right about you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tIn the meantime. \u201cSo, you want to stick with that salad?\u201d Nancy confirms with me. <\/p>\n
\tI nod. Margie stares at me, her mouth agape, shaking her head in disgust. I choose to look at Nancy instead, who presently is clearing her throat while directing her attention to Margie. She does this a couple of times before I say simply, \u201cMargie.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tStill disgusted, she manages, \u201cWhat.\u201d At least that variance means I don\u2019t have to look at her dentistry work anymore.<\/p>\n
\tI gesture towards Nancy with my hand as I say to Margie, \u201cAre you going to eat anything?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tShe looks baffled, like the human equivalent of a website saying \u2018Error 404.\u2019 I know this look. She\u2019s so hung up on her tangent she\u2019s forgotten where the rest of us live. <\/p>\n
\tShe manages, \u201cWell, let\u2019s see.\u201d She goes back to perusing the menu. \u201cEverything here is so…….\u201d She\u2019s shaking her head as she voices her deep, deep disappointment. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cIs your beef lean?\u201d Margie quips.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cIs it what?\u201d I don\u2019t know why, but it feels good that Nancy is as thrown by her as me. Makes me realize I\u2019m not the crazy one. But I still feel stupid that I agreed to meet her here, not that I had much choice in the matter. I should have insisted on one of her supposed hoity-toity places like the department store garden caf\u00e9 with fake hanging plants. My sister, as you may guess, has her own idea of what high culture is. Only she and probably my mother agree. But they probably serve lean beef. At least, that\u2019s what they tell her. Customer always being right and all that.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI said, \u2018Is. Your. Beef. Lean.\u2019\u201d Any slower, she\u2019d be spelling it like a child in a spelling bee.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cEr.. I guess so. They can make it well done. It cooks off a lot of fat, if that\u2019s what you want.\u201d Nancy manages. I\u2019d say \u2018hang in there\u2019 telepathically to her, but I need to save up all my rooting for myself if I want to get out of here alive.<\/p>\n
\tMargie shudders. \u201cI probably am going to have to do that. You never know what diseases a place like this carries.\u201d <\/p>\n
\tUnbelievable. She\u2019s saying that in front of a server? Nancy, by this time, is just looking bored.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cIf you\u2019re looking for something light, you can just have the grilled chicken. It comes with a salad,\u201d she suggests with not much enthusiasm.<\/p>\n
\tMargie looks at Nancy as though she\u2019d suggested an order of cow manure marinated in a bath of heavy water with a splash of strychnine for flavoring. \u201cHeavens, no! I\u2019m trying to eat light, not eat like a sick rabbit with anorexia. Every time a place like this tries to make grilled chicken, it always tastes like cardboard. So no. I don\u2019t want your attempt at chicken. I want beef. What kind of beef do you have?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tNancy emits a deep sigh, staring at the menu Margie is holding. I can imagine her thinking right now, can\u2019t you read? But like a good server, she says \u201cWe have hamburgers, mini-cheeseburgers which are like sliders, cheesesteak, and the special, Salisbury with mashed potatoes and gravy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tNow it\u2019s Margie emitting a deep sigh, except coming from her it sounds like a death rattle. \u201cDidn\u2019t I just say I want to eat light? Where do mini-cheeseburgers which are like sliders, whatever that\u2019s supposed to be, cheesesteaks and Salisbury steak with mash potatoes and gravy fit into that, hmm?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tUnlike most people who are reasonably normal, Margie doesn\u2019t actually do rhetorical questions. She actually expects people to answer them to her satisfaction. She\u2019s got her lips all prim in a straight line, waiting to be mollified, but Nancy doesn\u2019t seem to get it or want to get it. Just like most people, with Margie. You\u2019d think she\u2019d get it. But no. She\u2019s still waiting for her neat, precise answer when Nancy sidesteps the issue, saying, \u201cSo you want the hamburger then, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tMargie scrunches her face, still looking at the menu. \u201cYes. I see you have a diet plate with the hamburger.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tTaking advantage of the fact that Margie\u2019s nose is still buried in her menu, Nancy rolls her eyes and bounces her head impatiently. \u201cUh-huh. Yeah, we do. It comes with cottage cheese and fruit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cBleccchhh!\u201d Margie throws such a tizzy over this one it looks like she\u2019s having a heart attack over the menu. \u201cI hate cottage cheese. It\u2019s so disgusting! It tastes like you\u2019re on a diet. Is it possible at all that I could get low-fat cheese on the hamburger, or does a place like this worship at the altar of saturated fat only?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tNancy raises her eyebrows just slightly. \u201cDon\u2019t think so. Just the cottage cheese.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tMargie makes a face. \u201cOh, fine. I\u2019ll just take the mini-cheeseburgers. They\u2019re less calories then getting a big one, right?\u201d She gets this whole wink-wink look towards Nancy. You know, the one who\u2019s so disrespectful she isn\u2019t getting a tip. I know the look. She offers it when she kisses up to those she considers hipsters. Somehow, Nancy got elevated from slum queen to In The Know in one second flat. Nancy responds by avoiding her.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cOkay. What are you drinking? Diet soda?\u201d Nancy\u2019s voice has devolved into a monotone. I\u2019m surprised it hasn\u2019t disappeared, all together.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cDiet soda! God, no. Do you know the junk they put in that stuff? It actually makes you fatter. It\u2019s probably what she drinks.\u201d As you might guess, she in this case is lucky old me. It\u2019s reasons like this that I can\u2019t stand it when only children tell me I\u2019m lucky to have a sibling, especially oh so close in age. Care to trade on Craigslist?<\/p>\n
\t\u201cWell, what do you want then.\u201d Nancy is tapping her pad with her pen like someone banging on a neighbor\u2019s door for help. Which is probably the point. Sorry kid. No help here.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cWell, let\u2019s see, let\u2019s see. Don\u2019t rush me now!\u201d She puts up an admonishing finger towards Nancy. Like Nancy\u2019s very presence somehow implied that everyone was conspiring to run her out of town. \u201cOkay, let\u2019s see. The mini-cheeseburgers are have a lot of cheese on them, right? So….\u201d She thrusts the menu towards Nancy in victory.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI\u2019ll just have the skinny latte with it, to make it up.\u201d The what? What the hell menu was she reading? The closest thing Sal\u2019s Diner has to a latte is the coffee ice cream shake.<\/p>\n
\tOblivious to her ludicrousness, Margie smiles at Nancy like she\u2019s sharing some kind of joke, but Nancy doesn\u2019t look up. She even doesn\u2019t stop her pen-tapping either. I empathize, completely. Gotta have some way to relieve the pressure when everything is beyond your control.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cWe don\u2019t have lattes,\u201d Nancy spits out in time with each tap of her pen.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou don\u2019t have lattes? What is this, the seventies?\u201d Margie cackles her insult her so loud that other tables turn to look at her. Of course, Margie being Margie, she notices nothing but the hilarity of her own stupidity. Boy, she\u2019s really on a roll today, I see. The saying \u201cdon\u2019t bite the hand that feeds you\u201d doesn\u2019t apply to her, just everyone else. Same as it always does, same as it always had been. \u201cWhat do you have?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tNow that Nancy knows she\u2019s dealing with the Nimwit from Hell, she just looks at Margie like she\u2019s a really, really slow child. \u201cUh…everything on that menu you\u2019ve been reading?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou can\u2019t list it yourself? I have to read it?\u201d Margie snaps. Nancy and I both look at her, like isn\u2019t that what you\u2019ve been doing? Margie shakes her head in that feverish way again. \u201cNever mind. It\u2019s obviously too complicated.\u201d What\u2019s with her? She\u2019s always bad, but this is beyond belief, even for her. <\/p>\n
\tNancy gives me a questioning look as Margie the Diva goes back to the menu. I feel awful beyond belief, and the idea of any food at all just makes me feel nauseous. I\u2019m beyond embarrassed by now. But getting Margie to leave now would be impossible. Why, why, did I ever let her set foot in here? Is it so wrong to hope that things will get better?<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou have skim milk, I take it?\u201d shoots out of her mouth.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYeah. We have whole, low-fat, and—\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI said, I\u2019ll take the skim milk.\u201d My darling sister, of course, said no such thing. But in Margie-speak, logic means nothing. <\/p>\n
\tNancy seems to be doing her best not to scream at my sister, but now she\u2019s hopping from foot to foot in addition to tapping her pad. \u201cGot it. You want skim milk with mini-cheeseburgers. Want fries with that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tMargie\u2019s eyes go wide. \u201cNo, of course not! Weren\u2019t you paying attention?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cOkay. No fries. No cottage cheese. What do you want?\u201d Nancy looks at me, begging for mercy. <\/p>\n
\tI feel bad, I really do. I wish I had some mercy to expend. But I need every ounce I can for myself. It\u2019s tough being selfish like that. Makes me feel like my sister. <\/p>\n
\tSpeaking of my sister. \u201cI\u2019ll take the cole slaw. Get my vegetables for the day. Unlike you, who never does.\u201d She does this winky-winky thing at me. It looks like she\u2019s trying to blink away a cataract. Only in Margie\u2019s world does a chef salad equate to less vegetables and nutrition than a side of cole slaw with fried food. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cOkay, fine. Skim milk with mini-cheeseburgers, cole slaw on the side. One chef salad, with water? Right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tI nod in assent. Margie\u2019s way of replying goes more like, \u201cWe told you already! Didn\u2019t you write it down?\u201d <\/p>\n
\t\u201cWhatever,\u201d Nancy shrugs. She walks quickly, like she\u2019s warming up in a marathon towards the kitchen. I\u2019ve never seen her move so fast.<\/p>\n
\tMargie has her eyes on her, like a hunter with a laser pointer, except she waits until her prey is out of range. Once situated in a way that suits her, her eyes go all wide and they\u2019re gleaming, and she gets this conspiratorial look like we\u2019re BFFs united against the world, and leans in to me. She barks in a whisper harsher than her normal speaking voice, if that\u2019s at all possible. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cBoy, SHE\u2019S really peevish. Doesn\u2019t she SMILE any? And she expects a TIP?\u201d Margie\u2019s eyes are on a roll again, convinced of the stupidity of everyone but lil\u2019 ol\u2019 her. Well, on second thought, hold the lil\u2019. <\/p>\n
\tI must have groaned or something, loud enough for her to hear. Because Margie harrumphs and then says, \u201cOh of course you\u2019d take her side. Against your own sister, no less.\u201d She gets all false cheery in one second before chirping, \u201cWell, what can I say? Birds of a feather grump together!\u201d You probably wouldn\u2019t be surprised that the next thing out of her mouth is, tsk, tsk tsk, tsk….<\/p>\n
\tAs she\u2019s doing this, I notice a big ant running around the floor. I would have preferred having conversation with this lovely creature rather than the not-so-lovely creature in front of me, but unfortunately, if I want any semblance of peace in my family, I\u2019m sort of stuck. After all, Margie is the stable one (!) with a real job. Me, I\u2019m the crazy one. Only crazy people get involved in the arts. Just ask Margie! She\u2019ll tell you. <\/p>\n
\tMargie sighs a weird kind of sigh, full throttle through her nose. It\u2019s a real bizarre experience for people until they realize, yep, there\u2019s Margie again! In any event, it\u2019s apparently a bizarre experience for the giant ant as well. At the sound of her unusual breathing, it scurries away from us, ducking under the counter where the pies are. Even pests run away from her. Ding! I\u2019ve got a new job for her. Need your house fumigated? Just call Margie! Her very breath will take them away!<\/p>\n
\t\u201cHello!\u201d I\u2019m woken from my deep fantasy by dreaded reality. A chubby paw is waving in front of my face. \u201cI\u2019m talking to you! Why\u2019d you have me come here if you\u2019re not going to talk to me?\u201d Wait, who sent who the screaming cap text?<\/p>\n
\tThere\u2019s cutlery on my table. Real cutlery. I look at the fork and it looks like such a nice friend to me right now. I imagine picking it up like the killers in the horror movies and… presto! <\/p>\n
\tThe moment passes, however. As I want it to, mind you. Just because I think of killing my sister from time to time doesn\u2019t mean I actually will. Please. I hate the idea of prison food. Or any other prison pastime. My life has enough chaos here on the outside. <\/p>\n
\tInstead, I simply say, \u201cWhat do you want to talk about?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cThere! Now, was that so hard?\u201d <\/p>\n
\tActually…..yes. Of course, I don\u2019t say that. I don\u2019t say anything. After all, I don\u2019t want to talk her about anything. I just don\u2019t want to get reamed from my parents. Who says childhood ends at twenty-one?<\/p>\n
\t\u201cNow, Mary. I thought you were on that diet I told you about.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tMargie\u2019s always e-mailing me some new diet. Over my years, for the benefit of my health, I\u2019m supposed to have eaten grapefruit only, Grape Nuts only, grapefruit with granola made of buckwheat, no carbs, all carbs, no nuts… okay, you get the drift. As an actor who does want to lose a few pounds, I used to check them out. But Margie\u2019s schemes are so daft I\u2019m usually dying of low blood sugar six hours into them, and hypoglycemia is worse on an actor\u2019s career than five extra pounds. It never does an actor well to forget lines in an audition because all the blood drained from his\/her head. <\/p>\n
\tSo I say to her, truthfully, \u201cI don\u2019t even know which one you\u2019re talking about.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tEye roll, yet again. She\u2019s gotta learn to mix it up more. \u201cThe one where you nibble on six little meals a day. It\u2019s been working wonders for me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tIf eating slider cheeseburgers is part of nibbling six little meals, that must be some diet. But I simply say, \u201cNo. I\u2019m not on any diet. I told you, I don\u2019t even know what I weigh.\u201d <\/p>\n
\t\u201cWell, you should get cracking and start thinking about it. It\u2019s not like you can\u2019t stand to lose a few. Besides, guys like it better when girls are on diets. At least the good ones who care about their women\u2019s look. The losers, well….\u201d she eyes me and shakes her head back and forth like she\u2019s deciding something. \u201cI guess they\u2019ll take anything.\u201d She cocks her eyebrows like they\u2019re saying, \u2018just sayin\u2019. I wonder if she\u2019s finally figured out I have a boyfriend, even if he\u2019s a loser who takes anything, unlike a genuine prize like her. <\/p>\n
\tI\u2019m starting to reconsider the fork option again.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cAre you still trying to be an actressssss?\u201d It comes out like a hiss, just like it always does. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cI\u2019m not trying to be one. I am one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tShe waves me away. \u201cPlease. For heaven\u2019s sake. Mummy and Daddy and me wish you\u2019d just give it up already. You obviously aren\u2019t getting any work.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tHmmm. Three commercials in the last month, six extra castings in the last three, one walk-on roll in the not-for-profit indie theater every Friday and Saturday evenings, three walk-on parts for tv shows, one big enough to give me a credit in the beginning at the show…right. I suck at this acting thing. I should go crawl back into the tomb, I mean womb, with Mummy. But, in the mood to play with fire, I counter, \u201cWhat makes you think I can\u2019t get any work?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tMargie does her mouth-drop again. I wish she wouldn\u2019t do it. I plan on eating, which is hard to do with an image of her tonsil-ridden tongue and her mercury fillings. Maybe that\u2019s her strategy. No, scratch that. It\u2019s too intelligent for her. It would have required her to actually concoct a strategy. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou have to ask? You\u2019re fat!\u201d<\/p>\n
\tAnd she gloats there, in all her chubby glory. I imagine that\u2019s what Jabba the Hut would have looked like if he could have actually eaten Han Solo. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou think I can\u2019t get work because I\u2019m not skinny.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cNo! Of course not! I read the magazines. I know how all the girls are supposed to be thin.\u201d Uh, dumbass, I never said I was a Hollywood celebrity. I never said I wanted to be one, either. But, my sister is an expert on my profession. She reads People. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cThat\u2019s why you don\u2019t have a guy in your life, either.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tDumbass…. \u201cRalph has come over Mom and Dad\u2019s house with me for years.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tShe makes a face. \u201cPlease. He\u2019s your standup.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tHuh? \u201cMy what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tEye roll, please. \u201cGosh, you call yourself an actressss? And you don\u2019t know what a standup is?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI know what a standup comedian is. What the hell are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cDon\u2019t use that language with me, missy!\u201d She hisses. \u201cCome on! Get with it! You\u2019re supposedly do plays or sing or whatever. A standup! You know! If you get drunk or whatever you acting people do, and don\u2019t show up!\u201d<\/p>\n
\tSpeaking of getting drunk…I could so use some whiskey right now. Which by the way, probably accounts for my extra five pounds or so. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou mean a standby? Like an understudy?\u201d I don\u2019t know why I\u2019m bothering to clarify. None of this is good. But then again, when is it?<\/p>\n
\t\u201cOh, standby, understudy. Whatever. I mean like, the person who fills in for you if you\u2019re too drunk or lazy to show up for work.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cA standby.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tShe nods her head. \u201cYes, that. A standup.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tRight. Whatever. \u201cYou think Ralph\u2019s a standby? What\u2019s that\u2019s supposed to mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cOh, come on! You think me and Mummy and Daddy are just dumb squares from the suburbs. But we know it! You can\u2019t fool us!\u201d <\/p>\n
\tOkay, I\u2019m confused. \u201cI don\u2019t get it. What did I supposedly do now?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cDon\u2019t get snippy! Just because we have you figured out. Ralph isn\u2019t your boyfriend. He\u2019s a standup. You have him filling in because you can\u2019t get a guy interested in you, because You\u2019re. Fat.\u201d She nods with satisfaction. Again I think of Jabba the Hut.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cWhy would a guy be hanging around me for years if he wasn\u2019t my boyfriend?\u201d There\u2019s got to be a logic in there somewhere, even if in a million years I don\u2019t want anything to do with it.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cOh, come on! It\u2019s because he\u2019s a–\u201d and then she whispers. For real, this time, \u201chomosexual.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tIf I were to tell you anything about my sex life with Ralph, which by the way, I won\u2019t, one thing Ralph isn’t, is gay. At least, if he is, he\u2019s so repressed even he doesn\u2019t know it. By the way, the reason why I\u2019m not opening up with my sex life is not because I\u2019m afraid he\u2019s gay. It\u2019s just part of my personal life. Even we actors like a little privacy now and again.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cWhat makes you think he\u2019s gay?\u201d I have to ask. I can\u2019t believe I\u2019m letting myself do so, but I have to ask.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cHe\u2019s an actor!\u201d She exclaims, looking at me like I\u2019ve got to be about the dumbest thing on the planet. Which with her blotchy pudgy face makes her look like she\u2019s the dumbest thing on the planet. But that\u2019s besides the point. \u201cAll actors are gay!\u201d <\/p>\n
\t\u201cSo you think I\u2019m gay too, right? Because all actors are gay?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cNo, silly, I\u2019m not you with your femisilly language.\u201d For those unenlightened in such matters (and I envy your ignorance), \u2018femisilly\u2019 is Margie-speak for feminist. She thinks women should just get over it and be happy like she is. Makes me want to burn my bra right now. She\u2019s still prattling, \u201cI didn\u2019t say actresses were gay. Julia Roberts is married to a man. So\u2019s Nicole Kidman. I just said all the actors are gay. That\u2019s why they get involved in something fuddy-duddy like the arts.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tOh, this is rich. \u201cSo all guy artists are gay.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cUh-huh.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cThe musicians are all gay.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYes! Haven\u2019t you heard of George Michael?\u201d <\/p>\n
\tWow. I didn\u2019t know the music world had been reduced to the works of Wham!. But I continue, because this is just too much.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cThe writers. Photographers, film directors? All of them?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tShe rolls around her bench like she\u2019s going to pass out. \u201cOh, come on! Yes, you silly girl! All of them! Why would any guy want to go into the arts if he wasn\u2019t gay?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tUh….. really? \u201cYou know, Julia Roberts and Nicole Kidman are married to male artists, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cWhere have you been?\u201d She\u2019s screeches. She looks like Medusa on too much crack. \u201cJulia\u2019s been divorced from Lyle Lovett for years. Nicole left Tom Cruise years ago. Don\u2019t you know anything?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cJulia Roberts is married to a cinematographer. And Nicole Kidman\u2019s married to Keith Urban. A country musician!\u201d<\/p>\n
\tMargie shakes her head. \u201cUh, uh uh. Don\u2019t get all urban weird with me. Keith Urban was born in Australia. They don\u2019t do country music in Australia.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tSure about that? \u201cActually, he\u2019s from New Zealand.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cDo you always have to argue?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tUh….. <\/p>\n
\tMercifully (or maybe not), our food arrives. Nancy plops it in front of us, and starts to run away. But even she can\u2019t beat out Margie\u2019s scrunched up face as she scrutinizes her meal. \u201cWhy is there bread on these sandwiches?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tNancy looks at Margie with an expression like, I thought I saw a human, but on second thought….. \u201cBecause that\u2019s the order. They come with buns.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI thought I told you I want the diet plate. Didn\u2019t I say I want the diet plate?\u201d She asks the second question to me, like I\u2019m supposed to jump in and say yes. I suck at being a pansy, though. But I can play one on TV. Literally.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cNo, you got the mini-cheeseburgers. You said you hate cottage cheese.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou want me to take that back?\u201d Nancy practically bites. I wish she would. Help, save us all.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cNo, no, no, no. I\u2019m not having you go waste food on account on your screwup. You probably screwed up my order just to get free food,\u201d Margie bites.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cMargie, what the hell?!\u201d I\u2019ve finally had it. Enough of the nice sister.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cWhat. What did I do wrong now?\u201d She snaps back at me. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with you? You should apologize!\u201d I don\u2019t know where all the this gumption is coming from, but I think of the time I played the part of this girl who yelled at her father after being abused by him for years. Some part of that seems to be rising up in me, right now.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cOkay, sorry sorry,\u201d she says insincerely, speaking to her cheeseburgers. She then picks up her glass of milk. \u201cCan I at least hope to believe that this is skim milk?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYeah, it is,\u201d Nancy exhales. \u201cIs there anything else I can get either of you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cNo, no. You can scoot now. Shoo.\u201d Margie brushes her away and starts chomping at her food. I look at Nancy and mouth \u2018sorry\u2019. She shrugs and walks away. I start cutting up my salad, glad for something else to look at than Margie eating. I think of the fact that they try to get local ingredients wherever possible. I think of how tomatoes are going up in price. Anything, not to think of Margie.<\/p>\n
\tBut alas. \u201cYou know,\u201d she says through her food, \u201cspeaking about your actressss thingy-dingy. Since that\u2019s not really working out for you, Mummy and Daddy and me came up with an idea. We\u2019re going to help clean you up, so you stop being so depressed all the time, hating the world. That\u2019s why I needed to talk to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tAh, yes. The ‘impotent news’. I had almost forgotten about it, getting all caught up in Margie-isms. That\u2019s the thing I hate about my family. Not only do they make me forget who I am, they make me forget even where I am or what\u2019s going on around me. I chew slowly, savoring the taste of my food. Maybe if I redirect my attention to my taste buds, the screws drilled through my hands and feet won\u2019t hurt so much. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cMary,\u201d she says, her mouth full of meat and cheese, \u201chere you are. You\u2019re fat, you don\u2019t have a man worth anything, and you\u2019ve never had a real job. Unlike me. Or mummy. Or daddy. We do the right thing, and we have all those things.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tHalf of that statement doesn\u2019t make sense (like for one, daddy never had a man worth anything), and somehow based on her logic, \u201chaving\u201d fat seems to be a good thing. But it\u2019s easy to get her drift. My family are a bunch of winners, and I\u2019m a big, fat loser. Not news to me.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cNow, I know you\u2019re a big femisilly who\u2019s mad at the world, unlike me.\u201d Sure, whatever. \u201cBut Mary, you\u2019re almost twenty-eight. It\u2019s time you stop letting us pick up your slack and start taking responsibility for yourself.\u201d Yeah, I guess me being on my own since eighteen and you living with Mummy and Daddy except for the eight months you were married because you get fired every six months makes you the more mature and responsible one. Focus on the provolone cheese, Mary, I instruct myself. Doesn\u2019t it seem creamy going down? This mental trick helps a little bit. I\u2019ll take any bit, at all.<\/p>\n
\tMargie spits, \u201cI\u2019ve got a preposition for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tAs opposed to a pronoun? \u201cWhat.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cNow, I know you\u2019re a big femilsilly who thinks women who are secretaries are throwing away their lives on men.\u201d I think I said that once, when I was fifteen. It was the talk of the dinner table for weeks, how I thought hard work by women all over the world was demeaning. Anyway, at twenty-eight, I don\u2019t care what other women do. Margie included. But people have long memories for what they want to remember. <\/p>\n
\tMargie\u2019s face is covered with food as she says, \u201cI\u2019m going for a job interview after I eat here. It\u2019s for a job in another state. And the firm is right next door. It\u2019s for lawyers with partners all over the country.\u201d What?! A lawyer firm with partners all over the country lowered their standard enough to set up shop in my side of town? The part where they ration water? Oh wait, they decided to interview Margie. Never mind.<\/p>\n
\tI swallow the salad. The Italian dressing (on the side, by the way) tastes especially tangy today. \u201cSo?\u201d I say to Margie. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cThat\u2019s what I mean! It\u2019s for two positions!\u201d She bobs her head excitedly. \u201cI\u2019m going to help you get a real life. It\u2019s in a big city where you can walk a lot. But none of this show biz nonsense! So you can come with me, and get a real job like me. I mean, not really like me, because you don\u2019t have the smarts to be a secretary. But the other position is gal Friday. You just have to not screw up getting coffee. And, you can meet a man who isn\u2019t gay, and walk more so you can burn a few more of those pounds. By the way, why are you eating that cheese? I thought you said you weren\u2019t going to eat cheese anymore. And sit up straight. God, you\u2019ll be ugly before you even hit thirty, keeping that up.\u201d She says this popping a slider into her mouth, whole. Christ. They aren\u2019t that small. Food\u2019s popping out everywhere from her mouth. She remedies this by gulping half her milk, giving her a big fat milk mustache. All while slumping in her seat.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cLet me get this straight. You want me to move to another city? To get a job working with you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tMary shoves more food in her mouth as she says, \u201cUh-huh. Me and Mummy and Daddy all are moving, once I get this job.\u201d Great. The whole clan is traipsing along. Can\u2019t wait. Margie spits food as she continues, \u201cThe interview\u2019s right after I eat with you. Unfortunately, you look frumpy like you usually do. You\u2019ve got to learn to take better care of yourself! Only sluts don\u2019t take care of themselves. No wonder you don\u2019t have men looking at you.\u201d Of course, this belies the logic that for a woman to be a slut, this usually requires men looking at her for some small length of time. But whatever. <\/p>\n
\tMargie is now gesturing to one of the bags next to her. \u201cBut luckily for you, I know you and took care of you before I even got her. So, I have a nice pants suit for you. I figure, you\u2019re about the same size as me. It\u2019s a nice brown outfit. It will help you look grown up.\u201d I imagine myself wearing one of Margie\u2019s pants suits, standing next to her. I\u2019ll probably look like a mummified water buffalo next to a rhino on crack. Want to hire that duo for your company? <\/p>\n
\t\u201cSo I\u2019m supposed to just up my life here, dump my boyfriend and my acting career, both of which do exist, and go move to another state with you and everyone else?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tMargie shakes her head. There\u2019s food all over her mouth from her shoving it in so quickly, but her asinine proposition (aka preposition) is so insulting and annoying I feel good not informing her about her situation. I sort of think it\u2019s funny, watching her with her milk mustache and food all over her. \u201cYou\u2019re so silly and ridiculous!\u201d Margie screams. The whole diner turns to look. \u201cIt\u2019s like you need a doctor or something! You make everything up! That\u2019s why I\u2019m doing an intermission!\u201d<\/p>\n
\tCan you get why she gets fired all the time from her secretarial work yet? I think the only reason why she gets in the door at all is that she has no life and will work any hours, and doesn\u2019t know that you can negotiate salary. Then again, what leverage would someone like her have? \u201cYou mean an intervention?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cSTOP CORRECTING ME. YOU\u2019RE THE ONE WHO NEEDS HELP.\u201d Margie barks. This time, no one in the diner turns around. They\u2019re used to crazy when they hear it, and well, Margie is now certifiably crazy to them. She shoves the rest of her food in her face, cole slaw, cheeseburgers and milk all in one fell swoop. \u201cSah aug ugong toca wimiono????\u201d Which, translated, is approximately \u201cSo are you going to come with me or not?\u201d Trust me, you get the hang of this after awhile.<\/p>\n
\tAnd to this, I have one simple answer. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tShe swallows her food, choking in the process and coughing away. \u201cWhat!\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI said no. I\u2019m not coming to the interview. I have a life here, whether you believe me or not.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou ungrateful little bitch!\u201d She throws down her fork and her unused napkin, spitting milk and meat in the process. Luckily, none of it hits me. But she leans so close I can see that her entire front set of teeth is decorated with little bits of milk and cheese, and her milk mustache has grown only that much larger. \u201cYou just don\u2019t care about anyone but yourself!\u201d<\/p>\n
\tI shrug, my amusement fueling a wacky kind of courage. \u201cSo sue me. It\u2019s my life, not yours.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tWith that she huffs her way out of her seat, skim milk and cheeseburgers all over her face. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou can pay for this!\u201d I don\u2019t know if she\u2019s referring to the food or my supposed rebellion, but she storms her way to the bathroom, leaving the bags at the table.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cEverything okay?\u201d Nancy somehow has arrived by my side. She\u2019s waited for the radiological fallout to pass. I can\u2019t blame her. I respond by smiling and shrugging. She just walks away. <\/p>\n
\tMargie storms back to the table. Apparently whatever she did didn\u2019t include looking into a mirror, because she still has food and milk all over her face. Plus, her condition has further devolved, as there\u2019s now toilet paper stuck to her prim shoe, a large wad that\u2019s dragging about two feet worth, as well as toilet paper stuck out of her pants. I say nothing as she stands by the table without sitting down.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cDecided to rejoin me?\u201d I hope not. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cNo! I have better self-esteem than to assinate..\u201d Assimilate? Associate? Who knows. Who cares? \u201cwith disrespectful people. I\u2019m going to my job interview. Because I have a life, and you don\u2019t. Don\u2019t say I didn\u2019t help you. One day you\u2019ll realize.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cOh, I\u2019m sure I will.\u201d I have to practically stop myself from laughing. She drinks the last teensy-weensy drops of her skim milk before stomping off. \u201cDoes this I mean to get to keep your lovely pants suit?\u201d I sing before she knocks over an older couple in her line of sight.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cOf course not! What makes you think that?\u201d She spits as she grabs her packages. There\u2019s still meat and cheese flying out of her orifice. I\u2019m amazed at its prolific amount. It\u2019s like hitting a gold mine in there. <\/p>\n
\tAt this point, Nancy returns. She looks at Margie like a mental patient, asking, \u201cWant anything else?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cDOES IT LOOK LIKE I DO???!!!!\u201d Margie screams at her, meat chunks spewing out of her mouth as she does, and Nancy grimaces. Grabbing her packages victoriously, Margie storms past her. As she leaves the diner, she shoves into an elderly couple who just had the bad luck of entering the diner as my sister was having a temper tantrum going out. Dressed in skim milk and cheeseburgers, my sister is ready to take on the world. God help them all, I think. Maybe it\u2019s just a bit selfish, though, I think, but I\u2019m glad she\u2019s their problem and not mine. At least until Thanksgiving.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cDoesn\u2019t she have some kind of interview or something?\u201d Nancy\u2019s voice startles me. I\u2019ve never heard her speak outside of her role of server, and I almost think it\u2019s someone else who\u2019s talking. But it\u2019s Nancy, all right.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYeah, she does. Some big law firm,\u201d I reply.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cDoes she know she looks messed up with all that food in her teeth and on her face?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tI shake my head. \u201cNo. Apparently not.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tNancy smiles then, a really, really big one. First time I\u2019ve ever seen it.<\/p>\n
\tAnd I grin back. First time all day!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Today I\u2019m supposed to be meeting my sister Margie here at Sal\u2019s Diner near my apartment. She has something important to tell me, supposedly. I got this text from her saying in all caps: \u201cMARY IMPOTANT & UGENT: I MUST MEET U AT SALE\u2019S DINNER AT ON PM SHARP. I NO U SEAM TO […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"views":8996,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jkuzmier.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2409"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jkuzmier.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jkuzmier.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jkuzmier.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jkuzmier.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2409"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/jkuzmier.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2409\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2432,"href":"https:\/\/jkuzmier.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2409\/revisions\/2432"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jkuzmier.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2409"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jkuzmier.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2409"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jkuzmier.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2409"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}