Yesterday, I was giving a ride to some girls from work. The really sweet teenage one asked, “Oh, you’re from Saipan? Do you know a guy named Brian?”
I said, “Oh Brian? Yeah I know Brian!” though I didn’t know who the hell he was because I don’t keep tabs on every Saipan transplant living in Seattle.
All of a sudden I heard her say, “Hi Brian, do you know a girl named MONA?” There was a pause and then she persisted, “MONA, her name is MONA…”
I wanted to stop and tell her that it was a joke (granted, not a very good one), but it was good fun. I have to be more careful, some people can’t tell if I’m serious or not. Sometimes my sarcastic humor is obvious, like when someone asks me what perfume I’m wearing, I usually say, “Calvin Klein’s Escape for Women. It’s back from my days in juvie.” The other day, we were doing interviews and when the student who interviewed me presented what he wrote, he said, “Her name is Mona. She likes reading, writing and street-racing.”
I must learn how to hold my tongue.