Monday, February 28, 2005

See, Dave? I, Too, Am an Ass

It was asked of Sean once by his friend and co-worker Dave (just my friend, not my co-worker) whether this blog existed for the sole purpose of making him look like an ass. Well, let me be the first to assure you that it most certainly does not. It's just that Sean happens to be excellent at looking like an ass, and is quite good-natured about how shamelessly I exploit his ass-looking-ness for the purpose of blog fodder.

Let it never be stated, however, that I am not an ass as well. I am an ass! An ass of the highest order!

It had been a long and reasonably successful day of Open Hous-ing when Sean (the ass) and I decided it was time for a lunch/dinner break. We selected a Cambodian/Thai fusion place that I had always meant to try when I lived in the area. Over our pad thai and simple noodles with calamari and sweet chili sauce, we discussed some of the places we had seen that day. Should we make an offer on that lovely place? Should we discuss it further? Should we move to North Carolina where we could live in an antebellum mansion for this price? (Ok, that last one was me.) During the course of the conversation, Sean asked how quickly things can move once an "official" offer is made. Now, a normal human being would, at this point, respond with a "Very quickly, Honey.", or a "I believe quite fast, My Darling.", or "I have heard tell that it can be like the speed of light, Sugar Lips.".

Dear reader, I am not a normal human being. I intead elected to answer this question in what I felt was a witty manner--snapping my fingers to demonstrate how very fast things can go. (It should be noted here that, usually, I cannot snap effectively. As a child, I would flick my fingernails together to simulate snapping. I am a crappy snapper. This was the one, solitary time in my life that all of the forces of nature came together and caused my fingers to follow suit in a crisp, deafening *SNAP*.)

Of course, the sweet little waitress, who had been hovering nearby, came right over. I had snapped, after all. Who does that? Are there people who snap at restaurants? Besides me, I mean.

I fell over myself apologizing, my face flushing scarlet as I attempted to explain to a person who likely speaks very little English that I had not, in fact, been rudely snapping at her. I had been snapping at Sean, which makes perfect sense because really, DON'T NORMAL PEOPLE WALK AROUND SNAPPING AT EACH OTHER IN CAMBODIAN/THAI FUSION RESTAURANTS?!?

World, I am an ass. My GOD, I am an ass.

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