spankee at work.

i just had an interaction with the boss' boss in the photocopy room.

i was surprised to see him in there, and yet i was able to greet him with an affable: "Hey! How's it going?"

but, of course, half way through saying this, my brain was, like, 'wow, look at you spanky, being all socially adept'. this thought distracted me and my brain hicupped. so what came out was actually: "Hey! How's you doing?"

anyway, then there was some chitchat before he asked, "hey, what happened to you?"

refering to my pants.

ahem.

this is where i will explain to you, as i did to him, that my houndstooth trousers (miss sixty luxury, btw) are hand painted in italy with random, subtle splotches of silver and black.

"really? noo."

"yes."

"noo. oh, you almost had me there!"

"no, seriously."

"yeah? lemme see."

"yes! see?" (me spinning, contorting, stretching my leg out, holding the fabric under the shite light of the photocopy room.)

"no, you got wet or something, didn't you? ha ha."

"no. seriously. they're made like this."

it went on like this, for like, i don't know, 80 minutes. painful.

i am fully retiring with you. right now.