I'm going to have to explain some of the things I've been talking about to some negro lawyer this Friday. When an advisor told me that, I was like, "Lawyer?! Am I in trouble or what?" and immediately fell on my catch-all POW story. He explained to me that the colored guy, who wants my job, is a lawyer from Harvard and that he hoped I'd been reading the prep emails about the fundamentals of our economy because the man is a minority, and our women are at stake. Christ, I'm more worried now about having one of my increasingly frequent "senior moments" and calling him colored, than I am about not really knowing why I have to be there. Pinko suggests I drink a cup of regular instead of decaf coffee and skip the Viagra as I had originally planned.
I told Sarah that I think I'll do okay as long as I know she's in the audience somewhere, cheerleading for me. She was sitting Indian style on the kitchen floor, covering her left hand with an equally distributed layer of mayonnaise and didn't hear me. I said it again, but she was very focused, so I just stared at her a minute and then reminded her not to eat her hand.
Two more days until Friday.