last night was predictably hilarious as per usual. this time we all made a concerted effort to remember the funny that transpires when me, the dotytron, dr. rei and bwong are in the same room. notable moments include:
- dr. rei pumping her fist into the air and shouting "IRAN!" when passing reference is made to washed up, former wwf superstar, the iron sheik.
- an extended bit about craft-matic adjustable beds involving lots of pantomiming
- a discussion about how i could fly a plane. this is an extended debate that i've been having with anyone who'll listen for longer than i'd like to admit...basically, i'm of the belief that i can a) do anything i set my mind to b) that flying planes is a learn-able skill (ergo implying that it can't be that hard).
- a spin-off conversation about the olympics and how much they suck. bwong seems to feel that it's because there's no sense of scale. he thinks that if, alongside the olympians, you had a regular, semi-athletic person competing in the same challenge, you'd have a better appreciation for their innate skill. this then turned into me saying that some olympic challenges aren't that hard (substantiated [as per usual] by nothing stronger than my innate belief that nothing is that hard). this then turned into a conversation about how the luge is one of those sports (my opinion) and how you don't train that hard to compete in the luge. the dotytron disagreed, as did the roomie. at which point i referenced, to bolster my argument, that timeless french classic, cool runnings, as well as the fact that people who compete in the luge don't have anywhere to even practice on the regular. which led to me dropping the choice line (delivered with textbook karl lagerfeld, esquire, exasperation and emphatic hubris): "where do lugers practice then??! answer me that......F**KERS."
we narrowly lost to my boyfriend's dodgeball team last night. that's right, i said boyfriend. the captain of this really fun, motley team is my not-so-secret crush. the dotytron doesn't seem to mind. what he DOES seem to mind is the fact that in my giddy boyfriend-induced euphoria, i tend to forget that my boyfriend can catch like a mofo, and i tend to lob balls at him and subsequently get caught out. my boyfriend doesn't look anything like my current paramour, which just goes to show you that i don't really have a "type" per se. he's kind of stout, has a close-trimmed beard, and tasteful-diameter plugs in his ears (like me!). he's like a big teddy bear.
tonight's dinner was effin' bomb. it was spaghetti, with chilis, chives, white anchovies, garlic and toasted breadcrumbs. I LOVE WHITE ANCHOVIES. my campaign to get the cafeteria at work to always stock white chocolate macadamia nut cookies seems to have worked, as they were there today after a 3 day absence (my campaign consists of me standing woefully by where the cookies would be if they hadn't been usurped by less tasty [and considerably less enticing and consequently, revenue-generating] brownies and squares of an indiscriminate flavour, until one of the cashiers notices me, asks if she can help me with anything, and thereby gives me a forum to put my 2 cents in). i LOVE FORUMS FOR MY OPINIONS (see: long-winded and self-involved blog).
tomorrow is a long day. i'm packing the last of the moussaka, some creamed cabbage (we've got a serious leftover backlog in the fridge), and fruits. we're having a staff tea tomorrow, and my old supervisor is doing some baking. whoopee!