I am off on my "romantic" weekend. Here is a rerun from back when I was actually funny.
The maintenance guy at work hit on me today, and it is because I go to the vending machine entirely too much. Jimmy -- that's the maintenance guy, it says so on his shirt -- hangs in the room where the vending machine is in between jobs. We have gotten to know each other well.
"So. Ya got a boyfriend? What?" he asked me today. "I'm married," I told him, cradling my Dr Pepper insecurely.
"Well, I didn't see a ring, so..."
Did you ever put your ring in that cleaning solution and leave it there for like six weeks? I do that all the time. Hang on. Let me get it now.
There. It's back on. When you have the charms of June, you can't be too careful.
But, you see, had I not been traipsing over there every second and a half for my Dr Peppers, I'd have never ENTICED the maintenance man as I did. (Did you know Dr Pepper has no period after the "Dr"? Isn't it irritating to know me and all my proofreader facts?)
I'm supposed to be HEALTHY this year, remember? And okay, yes, clearly Dr Pepper is created by a doctor and therefore must be sanctioned by the medical community, but still.
Also. The Dr Pepper at work? Is so cold. That vending machine churns out the cold. Maybe it's the maintenance man's doing. I don't know. But oh, it is painful cold. So delish.
Beyond the subject of my white-hot beauty and appeal, I did also want to give you a tip today. An inspirational tip. I am nothing if not inspirational, what with my health and vegetarianism and general self-discipline.
Yesterday after my treadmill post, someone wrote "Run, Yoko, run!" which just about killed me, and it reminded me that I have never told you about something I do to annoy Marvin. I am hoping that you can use it to annoy your person.
Marvin, as you know, watches 75,004 documentaries a week, and 687,000 of them are about bands. So you can imagine how many documentaries I have seen about John Lennon and Yoko Ono.
Have you ever watched Yoko Ono when John Lennon is talking? She SITS there, SEVEN INCHES from him, and stares unblinkingly the whole time. Have you ever seen the Imagine video? He is playing the piano and singing, and what do you think old hoot owl is doing? Could she be at the piano, seven inches away?
Seriously, they were married a lot of years. He couldn't have remained THAT interesting. There had to be one time or another where she'd heard a story before. But does she get up and make her some tea, or call a friend? No.
So, here's what I like to do. I Yoko at Marvin. I Yoko at him until he notices, which sometimes takes 15 minutes. Sometimes he doesn't even look at me. He'll just sense it, and say, "Are ya being Yoko, then?" Oh, it bugs. Go do it to your spouse.
And you gotta hang your hair in your face, too. Maybe it only works if your person knows what the hell you're doing.
Finally. In conclusion. In closing, I'd like to tell you one more work story. It is busy now, so we have this temporary proofreader. Like most proofreaders, she seems really smart, is reserved, and maybe a little shy. I am so not a typical proofreader, I know. Anyway, I got introduced to her the first day and then we didn't talk again till yesterday. I felt bad.
"I never see you!" I said to her. "I know!" she said. "We're all so busy. I just work, get up to go to the bathroom, and sit right back down."
"Me too," I said. "In fact, I wish I just had a catheter so I didn't have to get up for the bathroom!"
Again. Why I always gotta be the weird coworker? Why can't I just not say stuff? She didn't talk to me today. You think I should Yoko her tomorrow?
