I went for lunch today with a couple of male co-workers, and two of us chose the salad bar. We sat down and discussed our salads with each other—what dressing we chose, the nice looking cherry tomatoes, the deliciously large croutons, etc. We talked about other types of salad we enjoyed, including a Caesar with very small pieces of pineapple, or how feta cheese really gussies up anything.
"Wow, I'm a guy," I thought, "and he's a guy, and we're not talking about sports or babes or power tools...we're talking about salad."
Then I thought, "That's really cool. We're evolved. We're elevated. To hell with these stereotypes projected onto us by corporate advertising machines, with their moronic, beer-swilling, overweight, pizza-ordering man buffoons. We are so much better than that and it feels really liberating."
Then a totally hot chick walked by.
You need to think about shaving your knuckles so they don't snag on anything when they're scraping the ground.
ReplyDeleteActually, you forgot one way you could stall corporal punishment. The routine was to speak as quickly as possible (possibly with no spaces between words): "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," "wait a minute, I want to tell you something."
ReplyDeleteThe other warning from me was to take another lap with the car around the block.
ReplyDelete