I don’t quite know how this happened, but yesterday’s post showed up as being written by David Buscher, who writes Upside-down Hippopotamus and who has guest blogged for me in the past. Lest you impute my feelings about my colon to David, let me hasten to assure you that it was I and not David who got the colonic irrigation.
In other news, today has so far been a day full of disappointment and embarrassment. Which means it must be Wednesday.
Standing in the 0 Kelvin cold outside of the movie theater where my friends D.R., B.N., and I had tickets to see Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, I got into a fascinating conversation with the very handsome man standing in front of me (fascinating not least because he was so handsome) and was within seconds of asking him if he wanted to get hot chocolate some time when he said something about his wife.
I instantly stopped talking to him.
Then I got to work, where my crush asked me if I wanted to go to Starbucks. Heart a-flutter, I agreed; I started trembling when, after we got outside, he revealed that he didn’t really want to go to Starbucks but had something he wanted to talk to me about.
Then he told me all about the date he had last night with this guy he’s now totally in love with.
When I got back to the office from our hope-crushing nonvisit to Starbucks, I saw that some very considerate soul had placed the bottle of lube that I carry with me (and that must have fallen out of my bag) neatly in the center of my desk. I’m terrified that it was my boss, but I can’t very well go around asking, “hey, were you the one who picked up the bottle of lube that fell out of my bag and so considerately put it on my desk? If so, thanks a million!”
I want to die.