It is Friday. The sun is out. I weigh 5 pounds less than I did two weeks ago. I woke up early today, so I left my house early and missed the rush of downtown traffic which does marvelous things for my mood. I’m spending the afternoon tomorrow at a Serbian picnic. Things are lookin’ up… (see? I can be positive!)
Here is my random story for the day…
I’ve been working at the Clinic for two months now. Over the course of that time, I have crossed paths with some very attractive men, and for whatever reason, a conversation never ensued (I was speed walking, they were speed walking; we might turn our heads and stare at each other as we passed, but no conversation). For the past three weeks, I have not left my desk for lunch. I have been either busy, lazy, broke or all of the aforementioned, and planting my ass semi-permanently on my chair seemed more appealing than walking 15 minutes through a crowded hospital. However, yesterday I needed to get the hell out. I was tired of the same old scene, I was depressed, and I wanted a steak quesadilla, dammit!
I walked through the T is for Tunnel, made my way up the escalator finding myself situated behind a very large man with a tattoo of something I couldn’t quite make out on his left calf. I found myself paying more attention to the way the fat had distributed on his body. I’m not being cruel when I say this, because I notice it even on my own body. Fat does not distribute evenly…my right love handle is lumpier than my left. Anyway, in this guy’s case, his left calf was lumpier than his right. As I pondered this, a gorgeous man walked up next to me on the escalator…now you fellow escalator users know that people don’t share a step on the escalator…not strangers anyway. I would share one with my mom, or Nan, or an eight year old…but not a gorgeous stranger. He proceeded to comment on the large guy’s tattoo, and I told him that I really couldn’t see that far. Then he asked me if I was visiting someone or if I worked there. I looked over at him and smiled. He said, “sorry, I’m just being nosy.” I told him it was fine, and that I worked there. When we reached the top of the escalator, he told me to have a good day, and that was that! Can I tell you how disappointed I was??
THEN…I was standing in line for my food, and I hear this voice behind me say, “what are the salad’s like here?” I turn around and see nothing…I look down, and there is a little bald man with his face in my boob asking me how the salads are here.
“This is my first time eating here.” Ugh.
“oh, ok.” He is smiling at me like the sun was setting beautifully behind my head. I, being so done with this conversation, am thinking that the conversation is indeed, over, and I am so happy! But my thoughts are interrupted by,
“So do you work here or are you visiting someone?” Do I detect a theme?
“I work here.”
“Monday through Friday?”
“Yep. Monday through Friday.” I’m rolling my eyes in my imagination so he doesn’t see that I want to do it in real life.
“What do you do?” he’s inching closer to me and pretty soon will be nursing off my left breast.
“ I work in the __ building.” Me, backing away.
“Oh, I’m just a nurse.”
I seriously said ‘ok’…what a bitch. The poor guy was just trying to have game, and I wouldn’t even let him dribble the ball. But I don’t care because when he ordered his Chile Lime Salad, he asked for a “Chimmie lime salad” and then said to the girl behind the counter, “how do you say that?” She looked at him exhaustedly and said, “umm…chill-ie”.
C’mon, Guy, Seriously!
If he would have said Chyle Lime Salad, I would have had to laugh out loud. That would for sure put me on the “Naughty” list this year.