by "popular" demand...

I told this story a couple times this weekend, but it paints me in such a sad light, Melissa decided it needed to go on the internet.
This takes place in Pittsburgh, early spring 2002. If you wonder why you haven't heard it before, well, it's a small, kinda humiliating tale. I think I needed the time lapse.
BACKGROUND!
There are many people aware of my zombie dating policy. (Basically, if you have such an interest in zombies that you would base a large portion of your life's work on them, I've come to the realization that I wouldn't have much luck with the nakedness with you.) What you might not know is that this is not a policy based on one boy. Oh no: it's based on 2, for I'm nothing if not scientific.
Zombie Policy #1 (ZP#1, for short) is a friend, and was a classmate and coworker. He also stands as the only time the "My friend used to have a crush on you" conversation was actually followed by actual making out, so you know, that's nice.
As a quick timeline, the class we had together was Fall 1998, the conversation was August 2000 (that's when you turned 21, right, Tiff?), coworking was March 2001-August 2002, making out was summer 2002.
It took way too long for me to remember years there.
THE ACTUAL STORY!
ZP#1's band was playing at Mr Roboto, and AliciaPage, some friends of hers, and I decide to go. I think we all know why I was planning to go, and if you're thinking, "investing in the 401K," you'd be correct, and thank you for making my made-up slang part of your life.
But sometimes, even the coolest of girlies gets flustered, and does things any sane person would shake their head at. Because when I came into contact with ZP#1 that night, and asked how his day had been, and he responded with a story involving car theft, I did the following.
I said AWESOME (or SWEET--I don't remember which) and, I believe, also gave my version of the thumbs up, some good ol' devil horns.
There was no band playing, or bus passing, or any other thing that might have impaired my hearing, which means that, yes, someone told me their car had been broken into, and I congratulated them.
Also funny, but less embarrassing for me, was the day ZP#1 collected all the barrettes and paper clips (I've been known to hold pieces of hair in place with office supplies) I had embedded in his couch, and pulled them out of his pocket to hand back to me at work. A handful of hair things accompanied by "Um, here's your stuff" is pure comedic gold, at least in my world.
Next time on Jessy's Smile Time Humiliation Hour: My bed breaks! Sort of! During...you know.
(Melissa made the comment the other day that sometimes, it can be hard to remember the actual names of actual boys in my life, as I enjoy making up nicknames for them so very much. Sorry if this confuses anyone else, but I like to think it's like a fun guessing game.)