So this actually happened at work on Friday, but I'm just now getting around to writing about it - but write about it I must, because I told Rob I was going to write about him so the world could mock him...and I always keep my promises.
So anyway, I come in to work Friday morning and I ignore him, as always. (This sounds worse than it is, I ignore everyone. It's not deliberate rudeness, really; it's just total social awkwardness. It's certainly not new. My nightmare is being stuck in an elevator with someone I know SLIGHTLY - not well enough to have a natural conversaion, but well enough that I can't just ignore them. I have to actually - GASP! - make small tallk....which I totally suck at. I am SUCH a misfit)
So anyway, I've been at my desk for about ten minutes and Rob comes over and starts telling me about his morning. I expected bitching and moaning because he was in a LOUSY mood the day before (I actually looked him straight in the eye at one point and said "WHY are you mad at me?" He denied it and by the end of the day I believed him - he was in that rotten a mood)
So I expected to hear trials and tribulations but instead, it sounded as if his morning had gone pretty well.
UNTIL he got to work. He had a cup of ice water and he was getting out of his car and well...one thing led to another, as it often does with cups of ice water, and he ended up spilling it all over himself.
Keep in mind this was ice. In the middle of January. In Maryland - not a state known for its warm Winters.
So he asks whether he can borrow my fan to dry his pants. I say sure. Then he says he's going to take them off and would I have a problem with that. I told him to stay on his side of the wall if he was going to do that. He said he'd wear his trenchcoat. I told him that would look even worse than him walking around with a big ol' wet spot.
I finally forbade him from removing his pants (not that I thought he actually would, it just really amused me to say, quite loudly, so all our co-workers could hear, "Rob, keep your pants on")
About an hour or so later, he wanted to go to the cafeteria and he asked me to come with him and walk behind him so no one would see the wet spot on his a**. I told him he was being ridiculous and it had dried and I was going to get coffee (in the opposite direction) and he didn't need anyone to walk him to Oasis (the name of our caf)
Ten minutes later, he comes back. "Vic," he says, "you are never going to believe this."
I immediately cast my eyes downward to his lower half.
Laughter ensues.
"Rob...", I say, inquiringly.
He tells of how he went to get french fries and he had a cup of ketchup...and I start giggling.
He tells of how he paid Elizabeth and took the change from her.
I am now snorting.
He talks of how he knocked the cup of ketchup off of the container of french fries.
By this time, I'm choking.
He describes watching the ketchup fall in slow motion and spread across his legs.
Tears have come to my eyes.
He tells of Elizabeth getting him some napkins (cus he had none and he was dripping ketchup) and how he was...um...rubbing himself to clean up.
I am collapsed over my desk in hysterics. I literally can not breathe.
Finally, he takes his fries and goes back to his desk. Still standing, he opens the fries, spills a few and steps on them, smashing them into the carpeting.
This set me off again in weeping laughter.
Finally, we both settle down. He asks if anyone has anything he can use to cover up with. I have a long red cardigan sweater I loan him, which he ties around his waist like a skirt.
He parades around like this for the rest of the day.
Finally, as I left that night, I told him that after such an accident prone day, he'd better be awfully careful driving home.
I think I startled him though, because he jumped as I spoke.
