cat hair coffee

Last night, we were eating hamburgers (well, my kids were eating hamburgers, as slowly as humanly possible), and my son dropped half his on the ground, patty-down. It may possibly have been licked by the dog. Definitely coated with a little dog hair and general floor fuzz. I assumed it was a goner because he's usually neurotic about that kind of thing. I offered him half of his sister's burger because she wasn't going to finish it but he wailed NOOOOO he wanted HIS burger. I assumed this was one of those lose-lose situations (wants burger, can't have burger), but then, to my utter shock (and slight horror), he asked me to wash it off. I was like, really??? He said yes. This was well beyond the bounds of the "5 second rule" but I decided I was just going to roll with it because I didn't want to discourage this behavior from my little germophobe. So I washed it off. Reassembled it. And he ate it. Well. Some of it. Later that night I was telling DM this amazing story and he starts making this face and I said, "What?!" and he replied "I finished his burger when I got home." Hahahaha. Immunity boost, baby!!!

This reminds me of the time I worked for a crazy person. He was nice (sometimes), and quite good at his job. But not entirely sane. This is the guy who said to me in the interview, "You minored in Critical Gender Studies? What is that? Some lesbian shit?" He ran a law practice out of his house. My "office" was a bedroom next to the one where he slept with his wife and two kids on double bunk-beds. The grandpa was also a lawyer (allegedly), and was often at the house as well. One time Gramps told me that they "cured" the wife's cat allergies by putting cat hair in the coffee filter for a few months. When they saw the look on my face, the guy and his pops were like, "What?! It worked!" My reply: "I don't doubt that it did. With my rudimentary understanding of allergies, it makes sense in this super insane sort of way. But that doesn't make it any less f*cked up." I only drank Starbucks after that.

I can't find the picture now. I may have taken it down, or it just got lost in the dungeon of Facebook archives. But the best story from my time there was this one client interview. Let me set the stage. We're in the dude's living room. He's wearing jean shorts and tevas with white socks and a ratty undershirt. The wife-slash-office manager offered the client a cup of cat hair coffee. We're sitting around a conference table in said living room, surrounded by legal volumes and elementary school homework. The client asks to use the restroom. My boss replies "Number one or number two?" The client was understandably baffled by the question. "Uhhh, pardon?" My boss (like he hadn't just asked a completely ridiculous question): "Do you just have to piss? Or do you need to take a shit?" Client: "Just... number one." Boss: "Alright. Cool. There's a dead fish clogging the pipes so don't flush. 'If it's yellow, let it mellow, man.'" I'm thinking we probably did not close the deal with that client.

my artistic rendering of the helpful signage provided by my old boss's 7 year old son.

I actually learned a lot from that guy. I'm grateful for the opportunities in legal and social learning that he afforded me. I'd like to think I taught him a thing or two as well. For example, it is not appropriate to pee in a Starbucks cup, while driving, with your female employee riding shotgun, because, among other things, "she can see your d*ck." Now, if it had been, say, a hot coffee cup instead of an iced coffee cup, thereby providing adequate cover for his genitalia, maybe that would've been a different story.

I stopped drinking Starbucks after that.

brings new meaning to the term 'penis straw'

*** Like this post? Then you'll love my essay in "I Still Just Want to Pee Alone!"***

Buy it today!

Click HERE to get yours on Amazon,

or click below to order a signed copy via PayPal!