Work just wouldn't be work if I didn't come in each morning to find a fly doing the backstroke in the coffee I left out the day before. ick. posted by me 8:23 AM . . .
Why do some guys think it looks cool to strut around waving their arms behind them as if they are wafting a raucous wake? posted by me 2:00 PM . . .
Are you lost? or Please get lost. Going to pick up the mail at the post office is not one of my daily tasks at work. However, with the regular person on vacation, I have stepped up to fill in the role. I don’t mind going to get the mail. It gets me out of the office for a little bit and into the fresh (read: muggy and sweltering) Nashville air. However, it apparently also affords me an extra opportunity to get hit on for the day. Call me naïve, but when a person with out of state plates/tags waves me around to the side of them on a random side street, I would consider that they might be lost. So, I pull up next to Mr. Alabama and roll down the window expecting to hear “Do you know how I can get back to 440?” or “Where’s the Ryman?” Instead I hear “What’s your name?” “Where’s your boyfriend?” and, as I drove off, “You look good… that’s a compliment!” Gee thanks. Well, I informed Mr. Alabama that my boyfriend was in the building next to his car, which happened to be my place of employment. And, if he knows anything about Nashville, since he apparently wasn’t lost, may know that it also happens to be a rehab center and homeless shelter. Heh heh. Bye bye Mr. Alabama. posted by me 11:14 AM . . .
