Random Esquire

Sunday morning. I just realized that we lost an hour in the day. That was my hour to clean. Well, no use crying over spilled milk.

Fresh Express has added to her typical crazy look by adding a pair of extremely large glasses - the kind that some people wore in the 1980’s. I honestly can not imagine that Fresh Express bought them in the 80’s because that would be giving her credit for looking somewhat contemporary at that time. They look like clear dinner plates resting on either side of her nose. So, last week, when I asked her to make plane reservations for me, she knocked on my office (more on her version of ‘knocking’ later) and entered wearing her Super Big Glasses, a circa 1980 striped button down shirt tucked in to a pair of too large jeans tightly belted just below her breasts. And toothpaste at the corner of her mouth. And white Reeboks.

About her knocking…My desk faces my office door along which is frosted glass. So, even with my door closed, I can tell when someone walks by. I typically keep my office door near shut, with about an inch opening. Fresh Express curls her nail bitten fingers around my office door, presses her mouth to the opening, repeatedly whispers my name, and slowly pushes the door open. It is like…Chinese water torture.

The absolutely worst part of Fresh Express, however, is that she likes me. And with that comes her annoying habit of attributing characteristics she likes to me. For instance, one day she stopped in to tell me about Tilapia being on sale at a local grocery store because she knows that Boss and I eat a lot of fish. Except we don’t. We probably should; but we don’t. She just made that up in her head. She has also granted me an exciting outdoor life full of bike riding and tennis playing. Her boyfriend bikes and she enjoys tennis. Boss and I, however, have never ridden a bike together nor played tennis together.

The only fun part about Fresh Express is that I enjoy teasing a co-worker by pretending that they are having an affair. This co-worker is Mexican and so I have nicknamed him Churro. I told him this. He said that churro also means (or is slang for) handsome in Colombia. I told him that I was not calling him handsome but instead, a Mexican fried donut which you can now purchase at the snack counter at CostCo. If I am speaking with Churro and Fresh Express wanders by, I will look at Churro and say something like, “You hittin’ that again this weekend?” And we will both cringe.

On another note, I have a co-worker in another state (we have never met) who refers to himself as a “five foot seven, balding Jewish man in glasses who wears a nice watch.” Bluetooth met him last week and said, “I didn’t know he was Italian!”