Topics of Conversation at Lunch
Really, America, why you all don't want to go out to lunch with me every dang day I just don't know. Here are just a few of the things we touched on over our delicious lunch at the Mellow Mushroom.
- The (in)advisability of naming sex toys after real people
- My continued (!) inability to properly indicate where body parts are
- Doogie Howser
- Debate
- Appropriate circumstances under which to dance
- How some things look good on women in rap videos but not on the woman sitting right in your line of vision
- Squash
- The Butcher's half-assed attempts to find another job
- House-sitting
Here's what we ate:
Me: Pesto calzone. It was okay, not great, but cheesy and bready and I won't care that there's no food in the house when I get home.
Co-worker: Some other kind of calzone with spinach! Spinach. I wish I'd have thought to get a spinach and onion calzone. That would have been delicious.
The Professor: Jerk Chicken sandwich. Also delicious. I'm totally going for that next time.
The result:
I'm already ready for a nap.
posted by Aunt B at 10/20/2005 12:37:00 PM
10 Comments:
Sex toys named after real people...like the Jenna Jamison love doll thing?
You know what creeps me out? The fact that Jenna Jameson's (I don't know how to spell it...) father is proud of the fact that he can pick his daughter's snatch out of a line-up.
That's 19 kinds of wrong.
Anyway, I think of that whenever I think of her. And I know there is a Jenna Jameson Sex Doll out there.
I read a lot. That's how.
Ugh, god, one wants to be all porn positive, but then one is reminded of the many fucked up ways people come to think it's a good career choice... I mean, if your dad knows what your cooter looks like well enough to identify it when it is unattached to you, you, by definition, have a fucked up life.
No, we were more thinking that, say, if you had a big crush on Evan Seinfeld and you knew nothing was going to come of it, would it be appropriate to pick something out, name it Evan, and work out your issues without actually bothering him with them OR would it be weird and gross?
I was advocating for the former, but am pretty convinced it's the latter.
I'll get Tera Patrick out of the way for you to make your move on Evan, deal?
HBO ran a deal with some porn girl named Katie Morgan. She sat naked in front of the camera and answered a lot of dumb questions. The intriguing thing was her assertion that her parents didn't know about her career. Which makes them incredibly dumb or her a great liar. I can't have a conversation with my folks without getting the third degree about how business is. What do they think she does for a living? It helps that they aren't owners of televisions.
But still, someone from that town knows.
Fuck no. Are you kidding? She says she's only having sex with women and Evan. What are you going to do? Sit around and watch her make lunch? At least I'll enjoy her and not compromise her arrangement with her husband.
Shoot, boy. The rules are simple. Don't assume I'd mutilate my own language and don't horn in on my action.
Anyway, I saw that, too, and laughed so hard at the end when they revealed that the photos were faked. Still, someone would rat her out to her parents, television or no, you're right.
Ho, ho. Don't delude yourself into thinking I couldn't pry her out of his scuzzy arms and into my jury-rigged bed.
That would leave the two of you to sit down over tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches talking about important issues, like how much you want to hear his band practice.
Please. Your lack of imagination is appalling. I may have to revise down my staff meeting fantasies conserably.
Of course I'd win this "competition," if one can even call it that. What do you have to offer? "Oh, Ms. Patrick, I'll have sex with you. I'm not some scary tattooed hottie with a nice car and a beautiful dick I'm willing to flaunt, but I have cute dimples."
I have the total trump card--"Oh, Ms. Patrick, I'll have sex with you and your husband. No problem."
Much like when you were in grade school P.E., you would get picked last for this activity, too.
Your mumbling and lack of eye contact may work wonders with the sexually ambivalent 'emo' boys, but not with the extrovert party crowd. Although, in your case, they may throw a pity fuck your way. So, you still have a shot.
However, I would have Ms. Patrick in the truck, speeding towards stately Sarcastro Manor, before you could awkwardly stammer out your name and a greeting. You would be amazed how witty banter and confidence makes girls ripe for the picking. What am I saying? Of course you would be amazed. Seduction is a lot more complex than when {insert RenFair/Civil War reenactor/used record store employee guy's name here}, who just wanted to be friends, came over with his copy of "Titanic" and a four pack of wine coolers and woo hoo hoo it was off to the races an hour before they hit the iceberg and ten minutes after the last wine cooler.
Whatever. I'm done fighting with you. Just because you turn me into a stupid awkward idiot for inexplicable reasons I probably need to resolve with intensive therapy doesn't mean that my every encounter with men goes that way.
Oh, no you don't. I planned on hurling demeaning insults back and forth with you all day. Now I'm going to have to do some work. Thanks a lot.
No, I think we're going to just have to settle this like men. We'll get drunk, have a fist-fight, cry a little, wreck our cars, and whoever ends up with the least stupid tattoo wins.
Which will be me, of course.
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