Ok. So. Don't judge me. But...I was accidentally racist again (or again. Slash again. And again.) last night. BUT! Before we get to those highly embarrassing details, there's another local Jäger Ball I need to tell you about!:
Kate and Jenna organized this one and you can hit them up on Twitter if you have any questions or email Kate at firstname.lastname@example.org! Despite today's post, people of all races, creeds, religions and ethnicities are welcomed, I promise. ALSO, REGARDING JÄGER BALL DC: Just to clarify—drink specials end at 11, not the party. That goes way past 11. It's not a school night bitches; let's get crazy with it! Co-Blogger Chris and I plan on sleeping on a pile of melted ice in the alley of the bar. So there's that. Now, let's get to some good old-fashioned hardcore American racism, huh?!
Yesterday Boss #2 and I hosted a late lunch meeting to show off our new line of furniture (read: Boss #2 gave the presentation, I hung up coats and played Snood in the bathroom.) After our group left, it was my job to go in with a damp rag and clean the surface of everything because a.) we can't have any fingerprints on anything, ever and b.) I'm the office's bitch and that's the kind of stuff I do. As I stood there a-scrubbin', I marveled at the ungodly number of ridiculous fingerprints on everything. "God. There are fingerprints everywhere," I said to Boss #2, "Where did these people come from? A fried chicken conference?" Sigh.............
.............The group we had just hosted was the Congressional Black Caucus.
But! Before you call the ACLU on me or show up at my office with pitchforks and torches, here me out. The following was my thought process:
[Man. There are lots of fingerprints everywhere. This is irritating. You should complain about this.]
"God. There are fingerprints everywhere."
[Hmm...On second thought, you probably shouldn't have done that. Complaining about your job to your boss is never a good idea. You should crack a joke to lighten the mood to show how easy-going and charismatic you are. Because easy-going and charismatic people get raises all the time.]
Where did these people come from? A...
[OK, now think. What gives you greasy fingers? Oh, I know!]
[Now we need a location. What would have a comically ridiculous amount of fried chicken?]
That was my thought process. And there wasn't a hint of irony or malice in there, I promise! The second it flew out of my mouth, I realized exactly what it sounded like and made a noise that can best be described as "offfffffffffffmgahhhh!" So altogether it came out: "God. There are fingerprints everywhere. Where did these people come from? A fried chicken conferenceofffffffffffffmgahhhh!" I turned bright red and said, and I quote myself, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean that in a racist way; I meant that in a chicken way!"
I meant that. In. A. "Chicken Way." What's worse is that I don't even think Boss #2 even heard me in the first place. She was like, "Hmm, what did you say? Just use some Windex if it won't come up" and walked away, leaving me to wallow in my own pile of self-mortification. I would have felt so much better had she heard, judged me, listened to my explanation and decided that I'm not racist in the end. It's like when you trip up the stairs and no one's there to see it, so you end up feeling even more stupid somehow. Right?
In conclusion: I am not racist. I enjoy African Americans and Asians and wish only good things for people of those persuasions. Kthnx.