Call me Captain Smooooooove...

Really. I have such game, it's incomprehensible. I went on the departmental lunch-type deal yesterday on my actual birthday, since it's kind of a departmental requirement and all. It's okay, though, because I got to pick where we ate and I didn't have to pay. Today was birthday lunch #2 with people from other work departments. It's always good to extend your birthday as long as possible, because people tend to treat you to lunch, which is just good stuff if you can pull it off. Anyway, one of the five attendants today included a girl from another department who is just the cutest thing ever. Of course, she likes Gwen Stefani and Van Helsing, so ours is an antagonistic relationship, to say the least. She does like some New Order and the new Beck, so she's not a total loss.

So, we go to Moon River Pizza, known for having, well, awesome pizza and some damn good salads. I'm donating blood later in the day, so it's good to get the iron up with a salad and the belly full with a slice of "T-Rex" pizza (in other words, the carnivore pizza.) Cute girl with shaky entertainment taste and I decide to share a greek salad. We sit down in the booth next to each other and wait for everybody's orders to be brought out. The salad arrives promptly with two bowls for sharing. So we divide up the salads fairly evenly, making sure we both get some feta cheese and all. I then proceed to start slicing the lettuce, since attempting to eat a salad without slicing up the lettuce makes you appear like a man raised by rabbits with poor table manners, which is very not the look I go for when around cute, available women with shaky entertainment taste.

I made a horrible error in judgment at this point. I misjudged the base of the bowl the salad was in, which in hindsight was apparently about as wide as a standard-issue U.S. quarter. The rim of the bowl was approximately a foot and a half across, meaning that without careful balance the bowl was liable to be set spinning like a top if not cautious. Needless to say, I was not cautious. As I begin to slice the lettuce, the bowl does as bowls with quarter-dollar bases are apt to do and flips itself over violently, tossing the contents of my salad directly into her lap. When I say directly, I mean it's as if I had aimed it perfectly. I couldn't do that again for a million bucks, I tell ya. Anyway, my response to this happening is, "crapstupidbowldammitsorrycrap!" She just laughs and says, "even though it's your birthday, you're not allowed to eat your salad off my lap!" My witty retort?

*Deer in headlights stare*

* crickets *

"..... um...... sorry....?"

* crickets *

And I wonder why I'm still single. Dammit.