I had another strange encounter this morning, but amazingly, it was not with my slow-leak co-worker, Bill. This conversation was with our receptionist, "Jenny," a charming young woman who usually seems to have something on the ball. Today, though, as I entered the building, she was waving a copy of that noted scholarly journal, Us Weekly, and going on about Britney Spears, and whether or not she would have another "slutty phase" after the birth of her next child. Since I happened to be around, she asked me how I felt about Ms. Spears.
I smiled faintly and said, "You're asking the wrong person. I'm one of those obnoxious curmudgeons who feels that American popular culture peaked sometime around 1945."
She looked at me oddly. "1945?" she said. "What happened that year, Woodstock?"
I paused. She blinked. I blinked. "Please tell me you are kidding," I said.
She blinked, and blinked again. "Um. I'm... kidding?"
"You're only off by about 25 years," I said, as gently as I could manage.
"Really?"
Another pause. She smiled. I smiled. I walked away.
Somebody tell me this is all a dream. Please?
Posted by Mediocre Fred at May 15, 2006 01:09 PM | TrackBack