Monday, May 2, 2011

Burritos.

94. "Over there, sushis, the little pieces were 7 dollars each. That's too expensive for me, so I chose to eat burritos. So, I was at this burrito place, and the woman who was making the burritos was," he extended his arms as wide as possible, "this big. There were at least three layers here," he motioned his hands around the neck, then making the shape of two watermelons in front of his chest, "and then there were the breasts. At least, I had to think those were breasts..."

Lunchtime will never be quiet again, now that Bowser is back. 

95. Seen on a condom wrapper: Want to see BIG BEN? 

96. 5ish pm. We are coming back from our Coke break, which, thanks to Cassandra, should now be renamed as Coke-n-Coffee break. (Co-n-Co break? Caffeine break? We-haven't-talked-to-each-other-for-three-hours-so-we-should-talk break? I need to keep working on this.) 

By the time Zoe reaches her office and I am in front of mine, we realize, simultaneously, that some stranger is unlocking the office door between ours. We are puzzled. We would like to know who this is. Of course, this is only because we are concerned for the safety of the various MacBooks lying around in our colleagues's office. As it is generally considered to be slightly impolite to walk up to a stranger whom you have just seen for two seconds and ask, "Who are you?", and apparently equally tactless to say loudly, "Do you know who this guy is?" in front of the guy in question, Zoe and I communicate in silence. Our first looks, accompanied by raised eyebrows, are identical: "Do you know who this guy is?" Our second looks, accompanied by raised shoulders, are also identical: "How do I know?" At this point, the guy gets inside the office, we go into ours, thus concluding our telepathic conversation. 

Tomorrow, if it is discovered that a MacBook has gone missing, don't ask us. We did the best we could.

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