like i need any more proof that i’m a fool

November 15, 2007

like i need any more proof that i’m a fool

So I’m at work, digging through one of the -80 degree freezers trying to find an old cell sample I probably threw out, when my iPod starts playing Tom Jones’ ‘Sex Bomb.’ I have a congenital disorder that prevents me from standing still when I hear this song, so I commence doing a watered down version of the ridiculous dance I do when I’m either very happy or very buzzed.

I temporarily give up on the freezer, since my hands are 15 seconds away from being frostbitten. Instead, I make a fool of myself. I’m in the dark (too lazy to turn on the light), in a partial squatting position with both index fingers pointing upwards doing my interpretation of the dorky-Caucasian-male-mating-dance, when I saw my supervisor in the doorway.

I was too engrossed in the hotness that is Tom Jones to hear my boss (who knows how long he was there? dear god). Since he himself is an aging dorky Caucasian male who has successfully mated, he must have recognized what I was doing.

The humiliation was bad enough, but what was worse was that I could see him blushing (in the dark!). How foolish did I look to make HIM blush?! I spent the rest of the afternoon skittering away when I heard him coming down the hall.

PS: I can’t mention Tom Jones without posting this:

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