As you know, from your now-oversized Book of June Events, my washer has been broken and I just went on a trip.
So selecting clothing for the workplace has been my own challenge. I have an inspirational poster about challenges above my increasingly empty closet.
But yesterday, as I listlessly perused my offerings, I found OH! How EXCITING!
I purchased said poncho last year with my Aunt Kathy, at Thanksgiving, when I was visiting home and we popped into a Basic Girl Shoppe.
“Oooo, I forgot I had this,” I said to myself/Edsel/it’s sad. Also, let’s review the part where I forgot I had it when I (a) purchased it less than a year ago, (2) packed it into a box in August, (r) unpacked it a month ago.
Excited, I slipped on said poncho, added jeans so once again I could avoid looking like Porky Pig
and added my brown boots. I was a legend.
So, in my cute surprise ensemble, I headed to work, where I immediately ran into a coworker I’ll call NotPatrick.
I really like NotPatrick. I’ve worked with him at other locales, and his wife has worked with me for years here at this job, then NotPatrick joined up awhile back. He and I voluntarily worked on an ad idea together that got chosen from a bunch of other people coming up with ads.
If you work with me, I certainly have made it a mystery who I mean, here.
Last year I tried to arrange a happy hour with the people at work who were older. I was trying to have a place we could gather and discuss Ruben Kincaid without having to explain who that was.
No one came. EXCEPT NotPatrick and his wife.
So, there he was yesterday, seeming likable, and he said, “I like your poncho.”
“Thanks,” I said, swirling like Stevie Nicks.
“You look like…well…” he trailed off.
I whipped back around. I know when a man fears me. Men fear me often. He was going to say something and then he feared me.
“What,” I said in my Linda Blair voice, a voice that would also have to be explained to people under 40.
“No, nothing, it’s…” he tried to walk away. HE ATTEMPTED ESCAPE. Suddenly, NotPatrick was a bug and I was Iris.
“YOU HAVE TO TELL ME,” I said.
“You sort of look like, I don’t want to say it. You sort of look like Clint Eastwood in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly,” he said.
Awhile later, I saw my other coworker, Frapdorf, who adopted one of my kittens this summer, that really cute orange one, if you follow my endless parade of kittens on Instagram. One of the ones I had to bottle feed. He also took the orange one’s brother, the black and white one.
Anyone who (a) hates cats and (2) isn’t on Instagram is 100% over me at this juncture.
“Nice poncho,” said Frapdorf.
“Yeah, thanks. NotPatrick says I look like Cli–”
“CLINT EASTWOOD!!” he finished. What’s with men and that movie?
For the rest of the day, Frapdorf would sing…
any time I strolled past.
“You have not gone ahead and made my day,” I told him, and by the way, he HATES the blog name Frapdorf and I had at one point told him I’d change it but NOT TODAY, WHISTLER.
I’ve never actually seen The Good, The Bad, and The Aging is a Natural Process. What’s it about, and why is Clint Eastwood wearing that fruity poncho? Is he on his way to Burning Man after?
Anyway, that wraps up yesterday. Get it?