This story I’m about to tell all happened within 30 minutes. I
shit crap you not. Look. I cussed. You know it’s real.
Recently, I stopped by my old job to visit Matchmaker Coworker. Someone else was there that I hadn’t seen in awhile.
Forever-Single Old Guy: You look…different.
Co-Worker: It’s her eyelashes. She looks cute.
Me: Do I look old? I’m almost 32.
Forever-Single Old Guy: I think you’ve put on a few pounds.
Me: ::mouth drops open::
Forever-Single Old Guy: You filled out. It’s good. You look more…mature.
Me: So I’m fat…and old. Fantastic.
I’ve put on 3 pounds since I worked there. Three pounds. Obviously, it’s 3 pounds of muscle. Grrrr….
After this exchange, I decided to hide in my cubicle for the rest of the day. But back in my new building, I found a bake sale in the lobby.
Unsuspecting-Victim-of-Poor-Timing: Would you like to buy something from our fundraiser?
Me: No, thank you.
Unsuspecting-Victim-of-Poor-Timing: We have healthy stuff, too: fruit, granola bars…water.
Back at my desk, I showed Ddot the t-shirts Matchmaker Coworker and I were wearing for a special event.
Ddot: So these are Matchmaker’s boobs?
Me: No…. They’re mine.
Ddot: They look….
Me: Too big to be mine. I know. It’s the font.
Ddot: No, the hair…looks like….
Me: Just let it go….
Who knew all of that was possible before 10 AM? That, my friends, is why I blog.
Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I say go with every opportunity. Best case you meet the man of your dreams. Worst case you get a blog post. Ok, almost every opportunity. I just got a random flash of slasher movie still shots.”—Skipping Stones