the only thing worse
than bad memories
is no memories at all..
[dismemberment plan]
12.28.2004
Bob.
Bob is one of my coworkers, and he's generally a nice guy. Get a few drinks in him, though, and he'll get a little too.. "honest."
The last time he and I were out after work on our third scotch on the rocks each, he started complimenting me on what I'd worn to work that day. I started to object, when he added, "but last FRIDAY.. was it Thursday? Thursday. Man, you looked pretty bad. I didn't even want to turn around from my desk! You looked like you'd just rolled out of bed or an alley or something."
This one I laughed along with him, because I'd come to work right after my Sociology final, for which I'd slept three hours the night before. I did look like shit.
The day before Christmas Eve, though, I thought I looked relatively decent. We'd just finished the second bottle of wine, and I was feeling nice and woobly from the shiraz. I said something stupid like, "I feel so ... floaty!"
Bob, who is hard of hearing, said, "What? You're bloated? Yeah, I guess you are bloated."
"BOBBBBBB...!!"
"What? What did you say? You're glowing? I guess it is kind of hot in here.. Don't worry about it, kid."
My favorite conversational exchange I've heard at the office this week, however, is this:
Jan: Hey, George, do you have "Hero" on DVD?
::long pause::
George: Ohhh.... You mean the movie, not the sandwich.
WHY DID IT TAKE HIM SO LONG TO REALIZE THAT WE WEREN'T TALKING ABOUT A DVD OF A SANDWICH??
[Peek-a-Foo]