{Friday, May 28, 10:14 p.m.}

 

Cute Guy: Can you weigh this salad for me so I know how much it is?
Me: Sure. (looking at the scale, which reads 0.88 pounds) Ok, it’s eighty-eight pounds.
Cute Guy: Wow. That’s, um, a heavy salad. That’s actually kind of embarrassing.
Me: (completely unaware that I left out the decimal point and thinking he was just making a joke) That’s ok! It’s salad, you can eat a lot of it.
Cute Guy: Yeah … thanks. (walks away)
Me: (as i turn to wrap up some meat, everything suddenly hits me.) Crap.

But you know what makes me proud? My idiocy (while thinking myself so clever for that comeback about the ‘heaviness’ being ok) was not induced by Cute Guy’s, um, cuteness. You know how sometimes you just get intimidated by super-good-looking people even as you can’t believe you’re being so stupid? Well, it wasn’t that at all. I would have said the exact same thing to my grandma. But I bet that guy walked away thinking that I just couldn’t handle his hotness. Get a grip, guy … I just can’t handle my brain.


Kelli: I need to come in some time and take of picture of you in your dorky black shoes.
Me: Hon, forget about the shoes. I have to wear a hairnet.


Highlights of today included refilling the salad bar while “Splish Splash” from You’ve Got Mail played over the PA system, and asking Andrew if he shaved his toes. (He doesn’t. But I do. Come now, girls, be honest: at least some of the girls I’m acquainted with shave their tootsies now and then. Of course, they never get exceptionally hairy, because that would be wrong and disgusting on every level, but shaving’s a lot less painful than plucking the occasional stray. So. Fess up, femah-lays…)