8.30.00 - 01:01:49
I didn't get a chance to explain myself fully the other day, so here it is in its entirety:
Gracie on Zyban
I didn't mean to do it. It was completely unintentional. In fact, if you asked me before it happened, I'd tell you that it was quite impossible. It was only a Styrofoam cup. Harmful to the environment perhaps, but not a threat to me. Oh no.
It was just there. That cup. Empty. Begging to be picked up and toyed with. It was far more interesting to me than The Manager, blah blah blahing away about some runaway project and its tiresome details. After a few minutes, in fact, I very nearly could no longer hear his voice. His mouth was moving, yes, and he was looking directly at me, yes, but biting on this empty cup and squashing it a little, gauging its flexibility was oh so compelling.
As The Manager rambled on and on uncomprehendingly, I would place the cup over my mouth, drag it down, squeeze and then bite the edge a little. This went on for what seemed like forever. Place. Drag. Squeeze. Bite. Place. Drag. Squeeze. Bite. Over and over. I was mesmerized.
Then, something went terribly wrong. Somewhere along the way, I mixed it up. I Placed then Squeezed, forgetting the Drag. Now this alone might not have been so bad, but unfortunately, for all parties involved, I did this at the same moment I was inhaling. As the offending beverage container suction cupped itself onto my face, I realized the horror of my situation. I could not breath. I could not speak.
I could die here.
Eyes bursting from my head I tugged a little. It suddenly became very important to me that I extricate the cup from my face without The Manager realizing anything was awry. Unfortunately, that cup wasn't budging.
The Manager stopped talking. I had no idea what he was saying while he was actually speaking, but his silence was deafening. His look of bemusement, excruciating.
I had to do it. There was no graceful way out of this. Had I the sense to turn away first, I would have, but there was no time. I was suffocating. I yanked as hard as I could and with a loud slurping POP, the cup was freed.
He simply continued to stare at me with this LOOK on his face and I had no idea what to say. Naturally, I came out with, "Um, is there, like, a big red mark now?"
Jesus H. Christ. If the indignity of it all wasn't enough, what did I have to go and say THAT for?
The Manager assured me that there was no big red mark on my face and in an act of unprecedented kindness, he looked at his watch, said he was late for a meeting and promptly left.
Now I'm blaming this incident entirely on Zyban. Yes indeedy. There is no way I'd pull a stunt like that unless I was under the influence. No way.
You believe me. Right?
