Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck!

So here's what I'm wondering: will raising a boy help me to understand something fundamental in the psyche of men?

Case in point:

Today was my very first Boss's Day...and my fabulous new staff (Yay new staff!) took me for lunch at the local sushi buffet. I love sushi! Yay sushi!

So we walked over, pleasant conversation en route, and were seated quickly by the window. It was almost tense for a moment...Staffer #1 doesn't like sushi, but loves Japanese food and preferred to order off the menu. Staffer #2 wanted Staffer #1 to check out the buffet because they had hot food. Staffer #1 said she wanted to order off the menu. Staffer #2 reiterated about the hot food on the buffet. Boss #me was holding her/my breath. Everything worked out fine, but there was a moment when I thought there was going to be a girl-fight in the sushi bar and I'm frankly not recovered enough from my sinus infection to be dealing with that right now.


So we were seated and everyone ordered what they wanted. Staffer #2 and I got up to go to the buffet. As I stood up, I -- in all my 6' of grace and glory -- crashed my head into an overhead lamp so hard that everyone in the restaurant (including the staff) stopped what they were doing and looked. A few people actually gasped audibly. I was too near an actual concussion to take a bow...but I reassured everyone that I was fine. But mostly it hurt and now I have a lump on my head.

The end.

Now, the story here isn't so much that story...but the fact that I shared it with the Monkey when we got home. He laughed so hard he couldn't breathe. Then, as I chatted for a moment on the phone with Mr.R, he insisted that I tell it again...and laughed so hard he couldn't breathe. Then, while making plans for tomorrow night's Soccer Finale with Monkeydad, the Monkey insisted that I tell it again...and laughed so hard that he couldn't breathe. I saved myself from having to tell it a fourth time by promising to write it in a blog so he could read it whenever he wanted.

But as I watch him gasp for air at the mental image of me cracking my head on a lamp, I'm wondering to myself if I'm seeing the first origin of that thing in men that makes them like The Three Stooges. Mommy hit her head on a lamp and Moe poked Curley and somehow they're both absolutely hysterical?

I (soitainly!) don't get it...but then again, it's just my head-lump
...not my chromosome.


towwas said...

What is this Boss's day? I had never heard of it before I saw it printed in my calendar today (and did nothing to observe it), and now you're blogging about it, too??

I Blog, You Blog said...

Oh, it's totally a Hallmark holiday, but we've always tried to mark it with a card or something. But I got lunch! It was nifty...and unexpected...and tasty....and, well, painful (but that was less about the holiday and more about my general clumsiness).