A few days ago Pennsyltucky walked in to work all proud of himself because he bought a 2006 Mustang. He's quite insufferable about it, actually--which made it all the more satisfying to give him a ration of shit! That particular day, he was on the patio. As he walked in to the kitchen, he asked if I knew where his section was.
"Yeah, you're out on the patio." I was putting in an order at the time, so I almost didn't catch him response.
"The patio? That's homoerotic!"
"Wait--what did you just say?"
"That's homoerotic!" He continued on his way mumbling while I dissolved in laughter because he so clearly had no idea what he'd just said. Being 19 and thinking he has the world by the balls, he likes to blurt out things like that with no idea what they mean.
"So, uh, P?" I finally managed to compose myself a few minutes later. "Do you know what homoerotic means?"
He looked at me suspiciously. "No."
"Well, you know what homo means, right?"
"Yeah! It means gay, and that patio is gay!"
I started giggling again. "Well, yeah, but erotic? Do you know what that means?"
He shook it head.
"Like erotica, like sensual and sexual."
Pennsyltucky stared at me, the light slowly dawning.
"So you said the patio is homosexually exciting."
"OH GOD." He stomped off before I could make any more jokes.
Naturally, every time he came around a corner for a few hours, somebody was giggling as I told them the story. Then I let it drop for a while before giving him grief about something else--and then I "apologized" for it.
"You know, P, as much crap as I give you, you're not a bad guy." I smiled innocently at his expression.
"Nah, you're okay. You're not even bad looking."
He started preening.
"Yeah, you're alright." I looked him up and down, giving him time to start feeling cocky again. "There's something, kind of, I don't know .... kind of homoerotic about you."
He ran away in the middle of punching in his order. I'm such a bitch.