So I bumped into A Fellow Linguist today in Chicago, and he awkwardly gave me a smile, and I awkwardly returned him one.
But we didn't know if it was really each other so we said no words.
He was also with his girlfriend and I didn't want to bump in and be like: "HEY AREN'T YOU A FELLOW LINGUIST FROM SF?"
Awkward SF encounters. S/O to you A Fellow Linguist.
(I was wearing my OL Smile Sweat and Navy Trousers.)
File this under SF Missed Connections.
there are definitely many ways to consume oatmeal. there is raw or cooked. with toppings or without. steel cut or non-steel cut. from the nice food store or from the poor people food store. but i like to eat oatmeal out of a large can, one that was once housing busch's baked beans. i like those beans, so i save the cans when i eat them. now, some may find the taste of metal in their oatmeal to be offputting - i get it. no big deal. however, the metal can transforms the oatmeal to become something that it could never be without the can. you see, back in 1987 there was a shortage of both oats and vessels in which to put oats, back in the motherland. one day, while out foraging for mushrooms for the evening stew (stew was in style at the time), my family and i happened upon a vagrant, a scumbag thrown from society's norm, if you will. he was mildly retarded after the beating he suffered at the hands of the gentlemens who caught him stealing cans of beans and oatmeal. he told us that ever since he himself was a young lad, that was the only way he would eat the oatmeals. and so, we did not believe him, so my father beat him with the second, empty bucket that we brought to put our mushrooms. after the man was passed out, we took his can of beans and oats to try for ourselves. we left two mushrooms in their place - one was poisonous. we never heard from the gypsybum, but the oats have been delicious ever since.