My co-worker seriously started a story like this the other day:
“Wait, wait, wait,” I rudely interrupted. “You have a cousin named Vinny.” She nodded her head and continued her story.
Later, a group of us discussed our high school teachers and how we only remember the naughty ones. You know, the ones that did something memorably bad.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I rudely interrupted. “Your high school teacher cooked meth and had students sell it? Was his name Walter White, by chance?”
Hmm. I’m starting to notice a pattern here.
I asked her if she also used to live across the hall from a room full of nerds
this, of course, was after her mishap in space,
but before her ship was taken over by Somalia pirates.
Now, in her spare time, she is a homicide detective teamed with a popular, arrogant writer.
Yeah, she didn’t get it either.
But I don’t need the laughter to know I’m funny.