While getting coffee in the kitchen at work the other day, I was telling a friend about running into the gay boyfriend. Bob, creator of the Tasmanian Devil vs. Badger contest, and his boss, who I am also friends with, overheard just enough of the conversation to wonder what in the Hell was going on.
As I have written before, I adore Bob. He has such a quick wit, and he always makes me laugh.
So Bob's boss, J, said, "Lisa always has the most bizarre stories."
They both read my blog intermittently. Since I wasn't going to run around the office retelling the story, I sent them the link.
Yesterday I stopped in Bob's cube to ask if he knew where J was.
Bob said, "J and I loved the gay boyfriend story!"
"So was his roommate the one who made you run around the office with the tape?"
"Oh, no! You're thinking of my friend Kristin! And that was the embassy in India."
"Wait, which one is your friend Kristin?"
"She's the one who lives in Paris and has the husband with the really stinky poo."
This look crossed his face, just briefly. I realized he hadn't read the terrible smell story. But no matter, because Bob is so, well, Bob.
"Oh, the stinky poo. Too bad for him. Because my poo always smells like raspberries."