Holy fork!

How could I be so shallow? Yesterday was Mick’s 61st birthday, and I forgot to even mention him. If nothing else, he finally climbed out of my grey matter and that deserves some form of recognition. So – Happy Birthday Mick!

On another note, my company has a problem with all things that aid in comforting the human stomach. Ever worked at a Not-for-profit that charged 60 cents for a coke? We pay $12 a year for the delights of Folgers’ coffee each morning, and you best bring your own damn mug. No free food, no free drinks, and no slap on the ass. No cups, no silverware, and everyone is forced to clean the break room for one week each year.

Today I pulled my little couscous and chicken out of the fridge, and realized I had no fork. Ahh! No fork! No fork! I desperately searched each and every empty drawer in the kitchen. Hot mustard packets and pink sweet and lo squares laughed and mocked me. “There’s no fork here, missy!” What am I going to do with a company fork? I’m fucking 31 years old. My silverware actually matches at this point in my life. I have no need for yours! (side note: damn, I am getting old!)

My coworker catches me scrambling through the drawers. She looks over and asks me if I want to use hers. I’m not much for girl crushes, but she could make me change my mind. I’ve always thought she was beautiful, in a quirky Goth way. Black short hair, pale face, beautiful green eyes and nice legs with short skirts with high heels. Delicious.

"Sure”, I mutter and then I blush! Me? Blush? I have the mouth of a sailor and am always talking about sex. Barely anything embarrasses me. Why this? I saw her downtown at a bar a couple of weeks ago. She had on a tank top, and that’s when I realized both her arms were adorned with flaming tattoos. They were quite sexy on her, but I don’t really like women. Right?

I accepted the fork, and felt uncomfortable plunging it into my couscous. I felt more uncomfortable putting it in my mouth. Odd. It’s just a girl. Do I have a girl crush?

I cleaned that fork better than Mr. Clean every dreamed of, and slipped it back into her lunch box. Tonight I’m going out and investing in a box of plastic utensils for my office, simply because the last thing I need is a crush.

Damn all I needed was a fork!