Disappointment is what you sought, no?

Of course. That’s why I’m disappointed.

Steph took a week off from work, and now three of her coworkers have asked her if she’s pregnant. The three ignorami are, of course, men.

Steph doesn’t look close to being pregnant, but that didn’t stop the three unwise men from asking whether or not she was expecting a child. What stupidity!

Although I may not be too smart, even I know never to ask a woman whether she’s pregnant unless I can clearly observe a child emerging.

Pregnant woman are like Texans: if they are, they’ll say so.

“I can’t hear the word ‘Roxy’ without thinking of ‘Roxy Music,’” I said.

“Are you talking about the Radio City Rockettes?” she asked.

“No, the musical ensemble,” I replied. “You know, Brian Eno, Phil Manzanera, Bryan Ferry, and the other lads.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Dr. Alston admitted. “Who are they?”

I took a few moments to compose a relevant response.

“They are accomplished musicians who achieved popular recognition before you were conceived,” I replied.

My answer surprised both of us.

“What are you doing in the city?!” she yelled. “You’ve got wings, get out while you can!”

“David,” she asked after a pause, “why do birds stay in the middle of the city when they could fly away?”

And that’s when I had my epiphany.

“Crumbs,” I answered.

“Crumbs?” she replied.

“We live in a fat, wasteful society,” I explained. “The birds are here for the literal crumbs; I’m here for the conceptual crumbs. Who wants to work?”

Amanda stopped shouting at my fellow gleaners.

For a while, I considered going to The Technomania Circus Early Bird Turkey Feed. I wasn’t particularly attracted to the culinary angle; I’m not interested in joining lots of predators feeding off the same carcass (unless we’re on the Serengeti). The interesting part of the invitation was, “Dr. Techno’s remarkable guarantee.”

“You will enjoy the show,” the impresario promised, “or I will personally clean your house.”

I don’t have a house, so I instead decided to go to the party with magnums (magni?) of champagne.

“I used to be a sheep in a past life,” volunteered Amy.

“Really?” I asked.

“Really,” she replied.

“If that’s true,” I said, “then tell me why Scots wear kilts.”

“Have you ever tried to chase sheep with your pants around your ankles?” Amy queried.

I know better than to answer rhetorical questions, so I didn’t.

Wanted! Somebody to go back in time with me!

THIS IS NOT A JOKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You will get paid after we get back. Must bring your own weapons! Extensive computer skills are required.

Saefty [sic] is not guaranteed. I have only done this TWICE before. Last guy who answered did not return home with me.

ONLY SERIOUS RESPONSES PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Plan to leave in a few weeks.