Eccentric Art

Two friends met in a pub and over beers exchanged stories about their college years as art students.

Michael was British, 30’s, balding hair, with glasses that slipped down his nose. Jeremy was American, 30’s, with a pony tail, and a beard. They became friends while at a gallery opening in Chelsea, New York.

“I lived in a house owned by a woman who married all the divorced men in town. By the time I got there she was hostile to everybody,” Michael said sipping his beer.

“Our RA played the blues on his harmonica every night. Midway through the year we plotted his murder,” Jeremy said wiping the foam from his upper lip with his fingers.

“Were you caught?”

“We stole his harmonica,” Jeremy said with a smirk. He knew we did it, but could never find it.

“Another guy is the house was a transvestite. He was tall and walked with a golden cane with an eagle handle,” Michael said pushing up his glasses.

“No wait. He lived in my dorm,” Jeremy said.

“Must have leased himself out. It’s how he paid his tuition,” Michael said. “There was another guy, weasel-like, lived in his left brain. Wasn’t friendly.

“I hated by those types. They talked in lists and appointments. Why they were art majors baffled me,” Jeremy said.

“It salved their little brittle brains. A third guy grew weed in his room in his mother’s tea cups under goose-neck lamps,” Michael said.

“Like the guy in my dorm. He grew it in the bathroom, under fluorescent lights, in Styrofoam containers from the local fast food joint. No pun intended,” Jeremy said chuckling.

“Sounds like we went to the same school.”

“Did you learn to make good art?” Michael said.

“No. Just how to dodge the bullets until graduation. That’s why I have a PhD in Oceanography.”

“Mine’s in Culinary Arts. I make a mean brioche,” Michael said.

Calvin says, “My career was defined the instant I smelled rabbit on the puppy farm.”

What Dr. Cal Lightman Taught Me About Relationships

Esther’s heart pounded in her chest. Sam was dreamy. They were eating dinner at a funky, out-of-the-way bistro he had selected. Never mind that it was by the highway. The conversation flowed over the cheap wine, the chemistry was heating up, and Esther already envisioned herself in a wedding gown. Finally the man for her.

If Dr. Cal Lightman, the central character of the TV show Lie To Me, had been in the restaurant, which I doubt, he would have noticed right away that Sam wasn’t as interested in Esther and she was in him. In fact, by the time their overdone steaks had arrived, he had cooled towards her, but she hadn’t noticed. His pupils weren’t dilated, his smile didn’t crinkle the corners of his eyes, and under the table his feet were pointed in the direction of the exit. Lightman would have said, “Doomed before dessert.”

Lie To Me is about observing body language and micro-facial expressions to bust bad guys. It’s good. You need to watch it. It’s valuable education. Based on research by clinical psychologist Dr. Paul Ekman, the show will give you critical insight into what the behavior of others is telling you.

Whether you’re looking to become the hottest marketer in your company or find Mr. Right, you need this.

The body speaks louder than words. Secret Service agents know this. Actors know it. And now you, too, can know it.

Want to know quickly what someone is thinking about you?

Check his feet. If they’re pointed at you, in a parallel line, he is positively engrossed in your every word.

If his feet are angled away from you and pointed in the direction of the exit, change the subject or run.

How do you know if the guy you’re dating is interested in you?

See if he leans in with his head when you’re talking. That’s one good sign.

If he talks to you with little expression on his face, or if he keeps a football stadium length between you and him, call a cab quick and high tail it out of there.

So what do you do to become an expert in these clues?

Watch the shows. Not only are they entertaining, but you’ll have a leg up on everyone else.

Calvin says, “Beagles come fully loaded knowing this kind of stuff. It’s all wired into our noses.”

Come Hither

A father and college-age son. At a café.

Dad: Take some literature classes when you get to college. Stories will save your life.

Son: How so?

Dad: You’ll learn how to communicate and you’ll avoid counseling when you’re married.

Son: What if I only want to take science classes?

Dad: You’ll have a tough time as a husband and father. Your children don’t come out of the chute speaking geek. And your wife will need to learn this language in order to know who you are, and she’ll be too busy with the kids, do you want to put her through that?

Son: Geez, I had no idea being an engineer would be so hazardous to my future.

Dad: Not if you mix it up with some Shakespeare, some poetry, and some good fiction.

Son: That will delay my getting out of school.

Dad: I’ll pay for the delay. It’s my investment in your marriage and my grand kids.

Son: Thy should’st not worry, father. I resolve to mark your words.

Calvin says, “That explains why I only speak hound. I wish my dad had recommended Peanuts and Winnie the Poo to me.”

Conversations on the Run1

These are some overheard conversations on the U.C. Berkeley today:

“Hello? Hello? Why aren’t you talking to me?” said a student on her cell phone. She was wearing a tight-fitting, neon pink hoodie. “I guess this is our relationship.”

“You know, I don’t care about politics, or about the environment, or about terrorism, or about pesticide-free farming, but I so care about the orangutan,” a tall, blond man said to his walking companion. “I’m going to do everything I can to get people to care about the orangutan even if I spend my whole life doing it.”

“I’m an agnostic,” one Asian student said to another. “I didn’t come here to find out if I’m wrong.”

“Oh look! There’s Lee in the Cal poster. She still hasn’t come down yet,” a young woman said pointing to the poster as she walked to class with her friends.

“Why do you take your dog to class?” an older woman asked the other. “Because he needs an education, too,” the other said.

“They named the band Dead Skeletons,” a male student with long, flowing hair in a black coat and shirt said to another guy with a guitar. “Kinda gothic-like.”

Calvin says, “A higher education? Sounds like these people are high already.”