Yeah, we're back after an extended break!
Let's ease back into this blog-business with a nice little story about workplace race relations, shall we?
I hope you've heard of the game/time waster knows as MFK. Of maybe you know it as marry, ferk, kill. Or maybe as bed, dead, wed.
Never heard of it? Take a guess how you play.
OK, name three people to a friend, and he or she has to choose one to marry, one to ferk, and one to kill. Pretty easy right? If you can put together three good names, you can get some interesting answers out of the group.
So, a couple rounds deep at lunch a couple weeks ago, homeboy's eyes widen as he spots a trifecta of perfect subjects for the next round of MFK. For my next round of MFK.
Bear in mind, instead of each of the three full-worded options, we instead utter the individual letters: M, F, or K. You know, to avoid being overheard at work talking about actively murdering or boning somebody. Tryin' to avoid that HR ish.
Anyway, Following dude's wide-eyed gaze, I turned around and what did I spy but three morbidly obese, troll-women waddling around the cafeteria. Before I even had a chance to think about what I was saying, I confidently spit it out:
And that was before I remembered the next lunch table over was packed with about 7 African American lunch-goers.
Happy ending though, nobody outside our table heard my little MFK indiscretion.