Contrary to the prolific blogging, I'm pretty busy right now. In fact, I have a list of monster scripts I must tackle before I see my therapist at 2:30 today. I just couldn't miss the opportunity to blog about the appalling conversation that transpired near my desk.
One of my coworkers announced that he had to get a hair cut at 12:30. "It's a pubic haircut so it won't take long," he said. I choked on my jam and toast. Encouraged by my reaction, he continued. "Do you think when our generation gets old, you know when we're like Larry's age, we'll still be trimming the bush?" These are the pressing questions that pervade my work environment. By the way, Larry isn't old. Evan just likes referring to him as "the old man" because he has premature gray. And Evan is young and thinks himself a modern Adonis. God's gift to Mankind. (nope, not a typo.)
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2 comments:
Evan's balding...
I hate my premature gray hair…. and now you're writing about it!
My premature gray hair is… is… blog fodder. I need to sit down, my back aches, and my joints are swollen. What? Who said that?? Those teenagers outside are frightening me.
I'm just an old and confused man and my gray hair has just been outed.
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