Ya Know?

I don’t know how this two word phrase has infected our lexicon. But it has.

Miss Carol and me went out to lunch the other day. We were sitting at the empty bar in a restaurant sipping our drinks, having ordered our meal, when I noticed the bartendress lurking nearby, maybe hoping for some conversation.

I rose to the bait. How’s life?, I said.

The bartendress fairly bubbled effervescently. She clasped her hands together, paused dramatically staring at the ceiling at who knows what, took a deep breath, and said-

Well, so, ya know, I was, ya know, getting ready, ya know, for my first date in like a week, ya know, and I was staring at, ya know, my closet wondering, ya know, what to wear, ya know, when-

Miss Carol was listening raptly.

I said- No. I don’t know.

The bartendress stopped, her pretty forehead furrowed in a frown. She thought for a moment and then gave up and started again.

So anyway, she said, I was, like, ya know, searching through my, ya know, closet thinking, ya know, do I, ya know, dress trampy, ya know?, or-

I said- No, really, I don’t know.

Miss Carol stared at me.

The bartendress stared at me. This time her furrowed frowning forehead came with a hint of malice.

What’s your problem?, she said.

You keep saying ya know, like I should know, but I don’t, I said.

Her frown deepened as if struggling with Euclidean geometry and then she said-

You’re weird.

Miss Carol murmured around the straw in her drink- I know.