Mr. Capp and I went to a swank restaurant tonight to send off one of his political science friends who just got her PhD and is moving back to Turkey on Wednesday. I got stuck next to the guy no one talks to (for good reason), but after two beverages, I was able to throw out The Big Lebowski quotes after every single thing he said, so that made the evening a bit more enjoyable. For me.
Awhile later, new guy showed up and sat across from me, which took some of the burden of conversation off the guy next to me. New Guy is a Captain in the Army and proceeded to regale me with tales of killing people (“Thirteen cents a round, so if you can club them to death, you save the USA money”) in exotic locales around the world. I’m not one of his students, therefore wasn’t impressed with his attempts at shock inducement. After two more beverages, he stopped talking about military missions and started talking about his cat.
Much, much later, a guy from a completely different department (Agronomy) showed up and sat next to me. Mr. Capp was long gone, as he’s a Mingler at parties. Agronomy Guy offered to buy me a drink and told me about life in his home state of Oregon.
Ag Guy: You aren’t from Kentucky, are you?
Me: Yes, I’m from Kentucky. Why do you think I’m not from here?
Ag Guy: You don’t sound like you’re from Kentucky.
Ag Guy: You don’t have that whole mountain twang going on.
Me: Oh, you mean I don’t sound like I’m from Eastern Kentucky.
Ag Guy: Where are you from?
Ag Guy: That explains it. Louisville’s right there on the southern Indiana border, so it doesn’t count as being in Kentucky.
Four or more hours later, the party had to move to a bar/nightspot down the street, but we came home. Mr. Capp wants me to call in hungover, just to see what The Boss would say. I say I need to get some work done before I get re-fired, and this time for insubordination.