ruining more conversations

co-worker: it's ok if you don't eat a lot of protein, because you store it, in your body.

me: store it where, your second stomach? Maybe you do, you heffer.

friday night alone with my giant salad

Thea: I just ate a salad the size of my head
Damien: Didn't this lead to problems last time?
Thea: I don't recall
Thea: did it?
Damien: You mentioned something about a huge salad and funny bodily issues
Thea: shoot
Thea: I don't remember this at all
Damien: Maybe it later affected your brain
Thea: I wonder what sort of time frame it happened in. I have to go to work tomorrow!
Damien: fairly quickly I think
Thea: was it a really big dump? Cause if it's a really big dump, that's no problem. I can handle that.
Damien: I do not recall
Thea: the only question is, will I ever go on a date with a man if I talk about really big dumps.
Damien: Some men find a practical woman a bonus!
Thea: want to hear about my huge dump?
Damien: not particularly

I ruin conversations

mom: so, I just wanted to make sure that you're going to the doctor for annual check-ups.

me: don't worry about that; I get one every time I have an abortion.


Regan: Wow, Cecile has some nice biceps.

Me: That's nothing. You should see her thighs!

minimal amounts of both power and responsibility

Even though I should know better so close to the end of term, I was sitting around the math club last week when one of the current execs approached me.

him: hey, can you be an exec for the club next year?

me: ugh.

him: if you don't say yes, we'll probably just make you one anyway.

other exec: that's how it happened to me.

so yeah, it looks like I'll be the "Room Manager", whatever that is. My first order of business, according to the current president, is to do something about the corn dog situation: there's a box of corn dogs in the freezer that aren't being eaten. As someone who once turned a box of fries into a backyard fire, and a thanksgiving turkey into a meter-long strip of pulp, I'm sure I can find a way to destroy a box of corn dogs. I guess that'll be my campaign platform.

flattery will get you nowhere

is what my friends and family seem to believe. Here's what they've been saying to me:


Dick: every time I look at you, all I can think about is malnutrition.

former roommate: You're like an alcoholic, but with fruit. And alcohol.

my boss: you look like you're from outer space.

my mom: you weren't a mistake. We definitely planned you. We planned the heck out of you!

former roommate: my boss calls you 'Wednesday' behind your back.

Screaming Barfies

I spent most of last weekend feeling pretty sick. I ate some Chinese take out Friday night, and by early Saturday morning realized that I had either food poisoning, or a really bad case of sudden-onset bulimia. Andrea insisted that I had stomach AIDS, but either way I was forced to call in sick to work after puking up what looked like a partially digested internal organ.

Some conclusions: no matter how hard I try, I cannot scream while barfing (the title is something my brother once claimed to have been afflicted with after leaving a White Spot). Also, it's difficult to come up with good onomatopoeia for vomiting. Achewood is an excellent resource for this.

properly storing your bundle of joy

Today I received a pamphlet in the mail about safety, which my mother picked up at the store where she found the go-kart and rocket launcher. She found it so amusing that she mailed it to me, after adding a few comments of her own. The pamphlet compared some unsafe practices to hilariously obvious examples and pictures of dangerous behaviour, such as building your child's car seat out of scrap lumber and rope.

For a safety pamphlet, it was actually pretty funny. It's a good thing they didn't use the example of repurposing a dresser drawer as a crib for your infant daughter, as that would have been much less obvious to my parents, and the humour would have missed the mark.