Today really reiterated that my co-workers are, as a whole, pretty nuts. This may or may not include me.
At work this morning I brought up the question you're supposed to ask someone to figure out if they're a sociopath. Most people were just generally confused (like, how could one question determine that?), but a few of the answers showed that I wasn't the only one who is good at rationalising murder. Not that any of us would kill anyone. Probably. At least I wouldn't.
After this exercise, one of my co-workers (the one on the path to saintliness) forwarded me photos his crafty sister-in-law found and thought about knitting. They involved knitted animals being impaled or bloodied in various, sometimes gruesome, ways. And we laughed. Out loud. Repeatedly. Does it make us bad people that a knitted bloody arm stuck in the mouth of a knitted tiger just seems cute? That enormous knitted scissors jabbed deeply into the chest cavity of a knitted doll is hilarious? That a teddy bear impaled on the horn of a unicorn with long drips of blood makes our sides hurt from all the laughing it causes? We are bad people. I know it. I just don't care.
Two phrases that came out of lunch with my friend/co-worker and a couple of guys from other departments: "danger pie" and "the idiotic table." I can't remember how danger pie came about, other than one of the guys declared he wanted pie, that he should want a special pie, but the recipe (which I've been sworn to secrecy and cannot reveal here) would, literally, kill you. Like, it would be so good it'd be dangerous. Danger Pie. My friend later declared that Danger Pie would be her stripper name. As for the idiotic table thing, it involved a story my friend relayed about an article she saw that had a smartypants doctor or someone saying that they should be looking at plants to cure diseases and illness instead of by looking at the periodic table, like this was a new idea. So, obviously: the idiotic table.
My co-worker to the right discussed with me what the difference is between male and female hipsters. I said it had nothing to do with their pants because male and female hipsters both wear women's jeans. She didn't believe me. Then I told her the story about David Sedaris going shopping with his sister Amy and allowing her to choose clothes for him in the ladies' department. He had to remember not to go to the urinal to pee when he wore certain pants because the zipper was at the back and that would be hard to explain to the guy at the next urinal.
Interesting information: there are no 7-11s in Newfoundland. And I've started pronouncing "car" as though I'm Rick Mercer's painfully slow half-sister. I cannot explain why this has come about.
I've been feeling pretty dull lately. The time change has really fucked me around; seems light affects me like it would a plant or something. My sleeping pattern is erratic at best. I've got to be up at 5:30am tomorrow, but I'm barely tired. Ugh. I'm screwed.
Currently listening :
Push Kings
By Push Kings
Release date: 20 October, 1998
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