I haven't made any twinkies

::hangs head in shame::

Stupid diet.

At long last, I've passed an important gestational milestone... I've finally been the recipient of a series of completely inane remarks by a total stranger.

Getting onto the elevator just now. Older man smiles broadly at me and says, "Well, look at you! You must have swallowed a watermelon seed!"

"Um, yeah, looks like," I said, because I am reflexively polite and responsive to grandpa-aged men.

"Didn't your mother teach you that you have to spit them out?"

"Um, well, I know that now," I said lamely, while every woman in the elevator rolled her eyes and every other man tried to pretend he was on another elevator in another state.

"Ha-ha, when I was a little boy that's what my mother always told me would happen if I swallowed a watermelon seed!" [Please, God, shut me the fuck up before I say something awful about spitting vs. swallowing] "But I'm not such a little boy anymore, and I know it takes a little bit more than a watermelon seed to make that happen, ha-ha!" And he stared at me with an indescribable grandfatherly leer on his face as though I were supposed to say something in response to that.

Which I didn't. But I thought, "You are so right, sir -- actually, it was my husband's cock." And then for one horrible, frozen moment, the terrible conviction washed over me that in fact I had said it, out loud and all. Which, apparently not, as I'm here at my desk and not being fired and frogmarched off campus.

It was an interesting experience. I suppose I can look forward to more of them, and more inane, as I expand. Whee!

Just don't Juliana give it to you. She has too many rules.

Say WHAT? I only have rules for my hypothetical roadhouse, and they mostly apply to my ability to pour said drink and drool over Christian Kane at the same time. I happily pour whatever people want in my actual bar. Well, whatever the law allows me to pour, so you can blame crazy-ass California for those rules....

In conclusion, Fernet.

JZ, there's a lovely fantasy world in my head where you actually did say it, and I can see the initially confused and then suddenly horrifiedly aware-of-what-an-ass-he-sounded responses crossing the creepy old dude's face in succession. And you keep your job and get the undying gratitude of women everywhere.

In my imagination, all that happens and her boss is so proud of her, she gets a huge hinking raise and six months maternity leave WITH PAY.

Health~ma for Dallas, Trudy.

Offer~ma on apartment, vw.

Well, checked out the fire/smoke/water damage in my department and I'd say that my department is full on to start up again with business as normal as soon as they're ready to let us back in the building. I was impressed with the way the sprinkler system responded. I thought my department would suffer at least some damage from the overhead sprinklers, but nothing got touched from water from above. Only the sprinklers that were absolutely needed to douse the fire went off. So, there were some boxes on the floor that suffered from the flooding, but that's a very small portion of what could have gotten damaged. Only semi-major problem is some of the finished product that was on the pallet racking directly across from the ones that caught fire were floor level and got waterlogged. Plus, the ones off the floor were close enough to the fire that some of the boxes look sort of puffy, like partially roasted marshmallows. Even though they look okay, the heat may have caused enough damage to kill them. We'll have to wait for them to dry out before we can take them out of their boxes and retest them. Poor Fred, the owner, was on a business trip to Hong Kong. He wasn't due back until Sunday and now he's got to cut the trip short to come home today.

I wanna live in Aimee's imagination.

I wanna live in Aimee's imagination.

Gotta love the pay scale. And I suspect the job bennies include camels.

You know it!

Sounds like a pretty good outcome, considering, Sail.