"So then I was having a Queen marathon in my office, and I realized that a big chunk of real estate in my brain is filled with Queen lyrics and not, say, algebra."
"Pfft. No one uses algebra. You're putting that space to good use."
"I need a black shirt."
"All of your shirts are black."
"I don't have a nice black shirt. Like, a fancy one."
"What exactly would constitute a fancy shirt?"
"Ruffles. And buttons."
"As opposed to the one that you have that ONLY has ruffles, and the one that ONLY has buttons?"
"You say that like it's weird."
"Goodness, what AM I thinking?"
"What did you do during lunch?"
"Put on makeup."
"Why would you do that?"
"I was having a craptastic morning. Nothing lifts a mood as quickly as black mascara, red lipstick, and big ass earrings."
"Some people do yoga."
"And some of us get FANCY. Whatevs."
"Dear God in Heaven, what happened to that Transformer?"
"He was. Um. Attacked by Decepticons. Decepticons with a giant laser? That trapped him in a state between robot and machine. VERY UNFORTUNATE."
"You threw away the instructions and can't transform him."
"What do I look like, an engineer? HOW ARE THESE TOYS FOR CHILDREN? I can't figure it out and now he's stuck."
"Were you just singing 'Every Rose Has Its Thorn' into a HIGHLIGHTER?"
"NO! ... Yes. It's not a highlighter. It's a very yellow microphone."
"You are so weird."
"The imaginary crowd LOVED it. I got a standing ovation."
"And whatever will your encore be?"
"I was thinking 'Fallen Angel' but I'm willing to take requests."