10 minutes ago…
Candice: “So when are you going to get pregnant?”
Lisa: “What?!?”
Candice: “When are you going to get pregnant so we can do this together?”
Lisa: “Oh my god, hormones are already taking over your brain! Get a grip! You’re living in a dream world!”
Candice: (Sighs.) “Fine.”
10 minutes before that… (on instant messenger)
Amy: “My jeans I ordered are getting here, like any minute. You have to come in the bathroom with me when I try them on because I feel fat and ugly today and you might have to keep me from committing suicide when they don’t fit by drinking up the bathroom soap and drowning myself in the toilet.”
Lisa: “Okay, just let me know when they get here.”
10 minutes before that… (on instant messenger)
Harmony: “What are you doing for lunch?”
Lisa: “Hanging myself from a flagpole outside.”
Harmony: “Good luck with that. Want to go running outside w/me and Tyra?”
Lisa: “Nah. I don’t want to go outside. It’s supposed to rain. I guess I’ll have to find a place to hang myself indoors.”
Harmony: “Check w/Amy on that. I’m sure she’ll have some good ideas.”
90 minutes before that…
Tom: “My, you’re here early!”
Lisa: “It’s 8:15.”
Tom: “That’s early for you!”
Lisa: “Not really. Yesterday I was here at 8. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t stay out partying like a delinquent all night so I’m unable to drag myself out of bed in the mornings. When I do get here at 9, it’s usually because I’m spending 20 minutes with my cats, or cleaning up after my train wreck of a roommate who really can’t keep a job because she does that, or checking my e-mails and MySpace at home. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop making it a national holiday every time I show up to work on time. It’s mildly insulting, and it kind of makes me look like an idiot.”
(Actually, I only wish I said everything after “Yesterday I was here at 8.” I seriously should have. Seriously.)
