in which skye gets hit on by a famous author, and hates it.

My roommate Skye has a little problem.

She looks like a nice person.

This leads to endless irritations for her and endless amusement for me. Random people approach her, usually in the metro, and start chatting. Men in stores refuse to give her her purchases until she gives them her number. (It never works.) Skye thinks she has a sign on her forehead that says COME TALK TO ME; I think she has a magnet for crazies. My favorite is the time when she was trying to get something out of a vending machine.

Man: So ... Buying some chocolate?
Skye: ... Water.
Man: You're not French.
Skye: English.
Man: What's your name?
Skye: ... Jan.
Man: Joanne?
Skye: YES. METRO'S HERE.

I never have these interactions, because I look mean. Apparently I also look like I know what I'm doing, because I get approached all the time, except solely by older women who are lost and who ask me if I am familiar with the neighborhood. Generally, no. I usually tell them I'm lost myself.

On Monday, Joseph Joffo came to speak to us. Joseph Joffo is the author of Un sac de billes, which is read by pretty much every mid-level college French class ever. So of course we'd all read it and we got to hear him recount it. Which was fine, how often do you get to meet people who escaped the Nazis and wrote books about it? I left right after. Skye stayed. She approached Joffo, who was talking to the program director, to ask him a question about his books. Joffo immediately turns to her and says, How beautiful! Look, look how beautiful this one is! Are you engaged?

No, for real.

Skye stammers for a second until the program director jumps in and says, Skye is much too young for that, Monsieur Joffo.

He shoots her a look like, get out of here now. She scrambles. When she gets home, she takes her asthma inhaler in a panic, and I laugh for about an hour.