I’m not going to try to claim that I am a poster child for “Maturity”.
I fully embrace my childish nature. I think it’s what keeps me so youthful and gorgeous.
But, at least when I’m at work, I try REALLY hard to act like a professional adult. Bosses tend not to respond too kindly to someone who comes off as immature.
But C’mon, there is only so much a man can stand…..
As we speak (or, I should say ‘type’. Well, I’M the one ‘typing’, YOU are ‘reading’. Oh fuck it, you know what I mean), I am at my office, currently embroiled on a much-longer-than-it-needs-to-be conference call.
About 15 minutes ago, one of the people on the line thought that we needed to patch in someone else onto the call, who is more familiar with the issue we’re discussing.
A few seconds later, the friendly conference-call-computer-chick cheerfully informs the rest of us….
“Richard Bender…. Has joined the conference!”
No FUCKING way.
How badly do you think Mr. Bender’s parents HATED him at birth in order for them to be ok with naming their son DICK BENDER?
Dick Bender! I still can’t believe it.
I am sitting here imagining his parents having to send young Ricky Bender to train Martial Arts with Tibetan monks when he was an infant, in a mad effort to prepare him to defend himself for the inevitable onslaught of abuse that must have dogged him on the first day of school every year when the teacher called the first attendance…. “DICK BENDER? IS THERE A DICK BENDER HERE?”
I keep putting my phone on mute while I stifle giggles every time someone asks Dick if what we are attempting to do will be “hard”.
“So, Richard, is it hard?”
Apparently not, because if he was hard, he wouldn’t be able to bend it, would he?
I wonder how his sister, Titty Twister, is doing?
I know, I’m a child, but this shit is funny, yo.
I feel bad for the guy.
At least I did, until a few moments ago, when they needed to patch in ANOTHER person on the call.
Yup, Dick Staine.
I’m not making this shit up. I think someone out there is testing me…. seeing if I will just crack and start cackling into the phone.
I can do this.
Must. Control. My. Breathing.
Ok, I feel better now. I think I got this.
At least, as long as they decide not to patch in “Buster Hymen”, I should be good.