G to T: “You’re just jealous that I have better legs than you.”
T to a co-worker: “You were drinking too much…you were wankered.”
Lunch at Old Doctor Butler’s Head was interesting mainly due to the fact that half the people ordered steak and kidneys and the other half ordered liver pot pie. (I was the odd man out who ordered the lasagna.) Sitting next to SR who ordered the kidney, I made the mistake of asking him what it tasted like and what the texture was, because when it arrived, he kept insisting that I try it. I almost had to use my self-defense techniques but he stopped pushing it after I made a somewhat-inappropriate face and said, “I’m not really that adventurous when it comes to trying new foods.”
But then all was well again when everyone started talking about how I would definitely fit into one of those moving crates at work. What is it with people wanting to fit me into small spaces like trashcans or file cabinets?
I still don’t understand the rules of cricket.
(Breaking news in this morning’s paper. A headline read: “Drugs May Be Very Dangerous.”)
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