I was lookin' good. New pants. New blue sweater. Shirt under the sweater. Did something new with my hair. I was stylin'.
"Hey, Honky," they'd say. "You look smart today."
Well, there's a huge difference between looking smart and actually being smart apparently. Because I somehow just managed to spill coffee all over my ass.
That's right. I spilled coffee on my ass.
That's pretty difficult to pull off, right?
I was moving a box of forms off my desk and onto the floor, and when I swivled around to put them down, the sleeve of my coat (which was hanging on the chair) knocked my coffee cup over and right onto my ass. So now I'm lookin' wicked smart with a giant brown stain on my butt.
My ass has been the source of a lot of trouble over the years. And I as I was sitting here, on my wet coffee ass, I thought about all the times my ass has been the source of controversy.
This story came to mind.
The No-Pants At Work Wrestling Fiasco of Nineteen Ninety-Nine
In the summer of '99 - the time between graduating college and moving to Boston - I worked at a theater company in Hartford, CT., doing whatever needed to be done. I worked the box office, I bartended, did some random crap for the company managers, kept Betty Buckley entertained, etc.
My supervisor in the box office and I... we had a bit of a crush on each other. You know, nothing could happen, that sort of thing. Pretty flirty. That was about it.
One day she dared me to work the ticket window without any pants on.
Now, I'm not one to shy away from this sort of thing. Anytime I have the opportunity to take my pants off, I take advantage of that. So I did. I worked the ticket window without any pants on for, oh, a good three hours or so. Even the people in the office had no idea.
Til I stood up to get a soda.
Everybody saw me pantsless. We enjoyed that. Good times.
And there's this other thing my supervisor would always try to goad me into doing - wrestling her. She'd always be all like "You couldn't take me. I'd so kick your ass. You just won't do it because you're chicken."
No, I won't do it because I don't want to lose my job, but whatever.
That day, however, was different. I was feelin' pretty pumped and pretty cocky standing there with no pants on. I was The Man. The Man Without Pants. And no one could stop me.
"All right Honky," my supervisor smirked "Now that you've worked without pants, you have to wrestle me."
Fuck it. It's Go Time.
So I did. Wrestled her. Took her down. Kicked her ass. She was yelling.
Of course, her boss would walk in right at that moment, catching me on top of my supervisor without any pants on.
So we got into a little bit of trouble for that. Not too much, though. Everyone loves a good show.
