Moderately Ridiculous

Victoria: It’s kind of a weird thing, really.  I totally understand why recruiters exist, but I feel like I’m getting something for free, and it feels weird. Because I’m getting career advice and someone who will help me find a job… for free.

Me: What if it was your job to get other people jobs? That’s a weird job.  How very meta.

Victoria: What if a recruiter helped you get a job as a recruiter?

Me: Whoa.  Mind?  Blown.

Victoria: This is why we shouldn’t smoke pot.

Me: ARRA! I miss you.
Rachelle: I miss you, too!
Me: We are like ships passing in the night.
Rachelle: We’re more like raccoons on the internet…
Me: That sounds like a band name…

Victoria: I just found a recipe for buffalo goat cheese balls on Pinterest.  Holy Jesus.

Alison: OMG, let’s do that. Wait… what’s a buffalo goat?

::pause::

Alison: OH!  Buffalo FLAVOR.  That makes more sense.  I was like, where does buffalo goat cheese come from?  Buffalo goats, obviously.

Scene: Ken and I are driving home from NY and the person in front of us was driving… like a jerk.

Ken: Do they even know what they’re doing?
Alison: They’re from Delaware, they have no clue.  They are not even aware.
Ken: They’re not even Del-aware.

::silence::

Alison: HA.  I get it.

::Ken shakes head::

Alison: So, her mom invited me to her engagement party… but she spelled my name “A-L-L-Y-S-O-N”.  That’s a new one.

Victoria: Special. That literally could not be further from the correct spelling… unless she had a stroke and spelled it “J-E-N-N-Y”.

Julie: Ok.  Done my Kinesiology take-home.  ::takes a bow::

Alison: ::throws a parade::

Julie: Now back to our regularly scheduled Kinesiology presentation.  ::defenestrates notebook::

Colleen: I am le tired.
Me: I am le Vicodin’d.  Bed for me.
Colleen:  Noooo.  You clearly need to be driving a car!
Me:  YES.  Heavy machinery.
Colleen: That’s what I’m told to do after I pop pills. My doctor says so.  Like right after I had my appendix out.  They were like, “GO!  Go drive a car!” so I did.  (I didn’t.)

Me: See, logic is your friend!
Karin: No, YOU are my friend. Logic is just an acquaintance I don’t really understand.
Alison: Ok, so, logic is my friend, and I am your friend. So by the transitive property, logic is your friend! See? Math. It works.

Me: Do I want to go get ice cream?  Because I think I do… but that requires pants.
Nicole: Ah, the age old decision.  No pants or ice cream.  It’s a toughie.  Personally, I’d vote ice cream.  In fact, I kind of want ice cream now.  But I’m wearing pants, so maybe that made it easier.
Me: Great! You go get the ice cream and bring it here, and then we can both have ice cream and I can continue not wearing pants.
Nicole: You are entirely ridiculous.

NB: Nicole lives in Chicago.