GingerSass

adding ginger to your sass

GingerSass - adding ginger to your sass

“Can you meet me for coffee tomorrow morning?” is a terrifying phrase.

an artsy-fartsy photo I took over the summer

I don’t know what it is about the phrase, “Can you meet me for coffee tomorrow morning?”, but it sends chills down my spine. I was asked this question tonight, and it gave my heart palpitations.

I love coffee. I love the friend who invited me to coffee. I even love the fact that I have off from school tomorrow and can go to coffee!

So why did that simple question, filled with some of the most blissful moments of life, immediately give me heart palpitations?

It’s clichéd, but I associate “Can you meet me for coffee?” with the phrase “Can we talk?” which is usually a bad thing. Honestly, if you were going to have a “good” talk, wouldn’t you just go to a restaurant, or invite someone over for dinner, and have a hearty meal as you talk your hearts out for hours? Meeting for coffee means short and sweet. Unless, of course, it’s a first date. But coffee for a first date gives you leeway to escape if you need to, and leeway to people watch for hours if you’re actually enjoying yourselves. Meeting to talk over coffee means break ups, favors being asked, items from Craigslist being sold, and selling your old textbooks to a naïve undergrad.

Anyway.

Combined with the phrase “tomorrow morning,” I immediately assumed something bad had happened, and that my friend was breaking up with me… which is a bit of an over-reaction, especially because we’re not dating. I asked what was going on and what was wrong, and I was told, “Nothing! I just feel like seeing you.” Because sometimes coffee is just coffee.

And sometimes it’s a death sentence.

NaBloPoMo 2012– November 8th: I’ll have what she’s having.

Today’s prompt reads

Thursday, November 8, 2012
If you could have any job (and instantly have the training and qualifications to do it), which job would you want?

When I was younger, I dreamt of many things. I dreamt of being an actress, a singer, and an ice cream truck driver before settling on being a teacher, a dream I’ve stuck with for roughly 15 years. In the past nine months, since I started blogging, I’ve realized how much I want to be a writer or full-time blogger. Of course, I’m more likely to make more money as a high school English teacher, which is actually pretty depressing if you actually think about how much money teachers make, but hey, a girl can dream, can’t she?

I think it would be really awesome to jump straight into being America’s sweetheart of blogging. You know, with a side of crassness, sarcasm, rainbows, and posts where I’m convinced my dog is the reincarnation of Stitch.

I want to be Diane Sawyer. This 66 year old goddess is funny, snarky, looks great for her age, and is respected by everyone she’s ever met or interviewed.

I mean, she even got through election night rumors that she was a drunken or stoned mess while on air, and everyone’s referring to her “episode” with love.

0:48 “People died…literally DIED….”

Despite her “antics” on air, people still love and respect Diane Sawyer as one of the world’s most, er, professional (?) news anchors. I’d love to be her and have her job/life. If that doesn’t work out, it’d be pretty awesome to have my own radio show. I could wear slippers to work and be the next Delilah…at Night.

What do you think? Was Diane drunk? High? High on life? Over tired?

Oh, and you should totally check out this article on Jezebel on good ol’ Diane and unaired footage from 1989. The real gem is at 1:28, where a glamorous Diane pretends to snort cocaine and calls an unknown woman crazy.

Yuppppp.