The scene: fifteen minutes ago, at my house.
I had just hauled one angry baby in a carseat into the house with one hand and finished dragging a singing toddler in with the other when I saw a really skinny, kind of crazy looking guy in his twenties walk up our driveway. He knocked on the door, and I opened it to see a dark beanie pulled down low over twitchy eyes; he had funky teeth but a big bright smile.
We then had the following exchange:
Guy: Hi! I just moved in and wanted to introduce myself. I'm Jake*. (*not his real name)
Me: Hi, Jake. I'm Gurrbonzo.
(he sticks out his hand, so I shake it)
(long, awkward silence while my kids scream and sing in the background)
Me, over the crying and singing: Well, welcome to the neighborhood. My kids are a little worked up so I'd better go, but nice to meet you.
Guy, like I didn't say anything, and like he was finally getting to the point of the conversation: What do you like to read?
Me, a little surprised: Um, lots of stuff. What do YOU like to read?
Guy: Magazines. Every kind of magazine. (big pause) Do you have any old ones I can have?
Me, wondering what the crap is going on: You know, we just recycled a bunch, but we get Newsweek and The Atlantic, so you can have those next time if you want.
(He crinkles his nose like I just offered him a diaper for dinner.)
Guy: I don't like Newsweek.
Me: Okay. What do you like?
Guy: Everything but Newsweek.
Me: Okay. Like what?
Guy: Glamour. Do you have any Glamours?
Guy: Kay, bye.