Mystery

I would love to say that I had a productive day today, but that would be a total fucking lie. I spent most of my day trying to perform twenty different tasks, all ranked "Priority #1," and praying that Yolanda Vega calls out our lottery numbers on Friday night. That, and obsessing about a colleague of mine whose breath consistently smells like he's been dining on the contents of my cat's dirty litter box. I am both disgusted and intrigued by this phenomenon and determined to find out which food and/or drink combination yields such a result. Wish me luck.

Chivalry

Last night, Eric and I watched a scene from NBC's "30 Rock" in which the main character, Liz Lemon, walks along a NYC street with her boyfriend, Floyd, and tells him how she sees herself growing old in NYC. As she's speaking to Floyd, a crazy homeless man walks past Liz and spits in her open mouth. Liz and Floyd make a speedy exit, both dazed and disgusted.

S: Wow, that was really gross.
E: Yep, it was. Her boyfriend was a total p*ssy though.
S: So if a homeless man spit in my mouth while I was talking to you, you would defend my honor?
E: If I could find him after I stopped laughing, you bet.