A local politico's career is going down the tubes here not because he fucked around, but because he fucked around and promoted and spent county money on hotels fucking around with someone just a couple steps down the food chain. (I know, in New York and France, you're wondering what we're wasting ink on this for, right?)
But anyhow, I'm not here to wax poetic about that (the local paper has been updating stories by the hour - that's how starved we are for sex here in Oregon, apparently; we have to take to the internet to read about other people who have done it); but to ask, do you ever have moments where your little social editor doesn't work?
This politician is supposed to speak at an event we're having this fall (I'm guessing we'll have to find a replacement as he goes underground) and this came up in a work meeting yesterday. A new colleague I had only met once before who is maybe my dad's age waxed poetic to us (females) about how sex was a biological imperative, blah blah blah.
Me: "Yeah, but why dip your pen in the company ink? I mean, it's not the affair that people are pissed about, it's the fact that he got her promoted and let her influence policy because of it."
Him: "But sex is a biological imperative..."
Me: "I've managed not to hop on my boss!"
And thus he finally shut it.
We also had some problems with the landlord.
Me: "Why don't they call a plumber?"
My boss: "Because they're cheap."
Me: "We could always threaten to make another movie." (For those of you who haven't read about the adult films that were made in our office by former tenants, click here. No kidding.)
My boss: Staring and speechless.
Me: "Just kidding!" (Runs away.)
Does your mouth ever get away from you?