So, you guys remember my nemesis, Ricky, right? The guy I work with? You know, the guy who didn’t laugh at my Steely Dan joke about losing my number because apparently “he didn’t know the song” and, subsequently, lost my number?
Well, I don’t know how many more nights I could lie awake wondering if Ricky actually lost my office number, if he truly didn’t know the song or if he was just being a dick.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever learn the truth.
However, during another meeting a few days ago, as I stared at Ricky to see if I could catch a glimpse of the dark soul that surely exists underneath his hair gel and professional business person façade, he randomly turned and winked at me. It was then that I realized the truth about Ricky–he didn’t lose my number. He sucks and he just wanted me to feel dumb. Douche.
Well, whatever, Ricky. Your potent hair gel leaves a smell in the elevator long after you’re gone and sometimes there’s a booger almost falling out of your nose and I hate you and you’ll pay for this.
Also, I’d like to wish a Happy Pastramiversary to Jon, the unique cartoon/photo artist over at http://www.pastramibasket.wordpress.com who provided his Ricky interpretation. Thanks, dude!
You can also find Pastrami Basket on Facebook and it’s awesome, so you should go to there.