Okay, some funny shit just happened.
Right now, I am at work bored out of my fucking mind because it's the day before Thanksgiving Break, which means there are no outgoing phone calls, there are no incoming phone calls, my one coworker who actually showed up today is watching a DVD of Ocean's 13 on her computer (I get it next?whee!) and I've been trying to think of stuff to write about.
Turns out, thinking was a waste of time.
Three things about my life that make me different from most people: I have never lost a thumb war, people love telling me their problems within minutes of meeting me and I always end up in bizarre conversations that end badly.
You see, I have a little problem with thinking before I speak. I don't do it. Ever. Sometimes this works out for the best but usually it doesn't. Anyway, while my UPS guy and I were involved in a five minute conversation about the effects of frost on orange groves (told you today was boring), I heard the beep that indicates that someone is opening the back door.
I grabbed the office softball bat (and yes, my office has a softball bat) and headed into the break room where I encountered the water cooler dude.
“I got a message that this thing broke,” he said.
“Yup. Someone broke the handle on it.”
“I don't need to replace it. I can fix it.”
“Hey pal, replace it, fix it, build one out of twine, make one with your divine powers? whatever. We just need a working water cooler.”
He laughed, which made me like him because I like to tell jokes.
Water Cooler Dude fixed the water cooler in about two minutes. I was so impressed that I offered him one of my frozen yogurts. Not surprisingly, he declined.
“Thanks man,” I said. “Have a happy Thanksgiving.”
“I don't celebrate Thanksgiving,” he responded. “I am thankful for every day.”
“That's great. Well, have a happy every day then.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“Nope, just being American.”
And then Water Cooler Dude spoke for three minutes about how Americans need to learn that they are not the only culture in the world.
When he finished his little diatribe, I looked him square in the eye, offered my right hand and said, “You any good at thumb wars?”
The look he gave me could have curdled milk.
He left rather quickly after that and I sat down and wrote this.
Four more hours to go?