Today I had a strange experience at work. No, it didn't involve the co-owner, who looks like the ugly twin to Nicholas Cage, rubbing my shoulders and winking at me - though the more I think about it, I really hate when he does that. Question: When the owner is sexually harassing who do you inform the dish washer or just steal more food to make up the difference? Answer: Option B. until you grow tired of the food and then scream "rape" next time he touches you. Question 2: What kind of grown man winks at people? Answer: Clowns, Popeye, Pedophiles and Adam Lambert.
Okay, I'm not sure where the one sided Q&A session came from. My apologies. No, the strange thing that happened today was I think a girl was trying to date me a friend. I mean, she wasn't flirting with me, but as I talked to her and we expressed the same interests she said, "We should totally become friends. What are your digits?" My digits? How did we go from talking about working out to becoming best of friends and giving each other our phone numbers? I was completely confused. I then said something equally as awkward like, "Oh, my husband and I sure do a lot of things together." (I'm not sure what this was supposed to mean other than, 1. I don't swing that way, if that is what you are looking for, because I have the world's worst gay-dar and 2. I typically like to find my friends in more conventional ways like working with them for awhile, at church, introduced to and in play groups my mom used to put together etc.)
Unfortunately, my cryptic answer did nothing to deter her, and while she waited for her coffee, and called me "honey" about three times, I relented and gave her my home phone number. (The home line doesn't have an answering machine. It's the sure number for creepy chicks trying to be your friend and the relief society.) I don't know what I'm going to do when she comes back into the restaurant. Am I going to have to be her friend? She does work for ESPN...Kate....no.