I was 10 years old when I bought a beat up copy of Harriet The Spy. I immediately recognized in Harriet a kindred spirit (extra credit for identifying another of my childhood favorites here). I had never, ever met someone else who played Town (heck, I thought I had invented Town); if any of my friends kept a notebook handy like Harriet and I did, I sure didn't know about it; Harriet was the first fictional character I came across who was as struck by absurdities of all kinds--and who was having as hard a time as I was figuring things out.
Harriet would sit in public places sometimes and eavesdrop, imagining what the people whose conversations she was listening to looked like. She would not look at them until she got up to leave unless someone said something so fantastic that she just had to look. I do the same thing when I eavesdrop. Recently, were two instances where I just had to look.
Standing in line at Costco, a woman a couple of lines over is having a rather loud cellphone conversation.
Woman: Has she had the baby yet?
Woman: She went to the hospital this morning? Oh! Everyone must be so excited!
Woman: Does she get to keep this one?
At dinner, a young couple is dining with the woman's parents.
Dad: Will you get to keep your email address?
Young Woman: Well, I won't keep my school one--
Young Man: But we still have the Yahoo! one to check while we're in Europe.
Dad: Yeah, I guess you could have just as many email addresses as you want.
Mom: So...Is there such a thing as?...International?...Email?...
(I had to look because none of them were laughing their heads off the way I would have been if that had been my mom.)