Weighty Matters.

(April 1st)
“What year were you born, 1971?”
“That better be an April Fool’s joke.”
“A what?”

“Can I please have your gum when you’re done with it, Rachel? I’d like to test your DNA.”

(The Monday after Easter)
“How was your weekend, Miss Rachel? It was kind of a big one for you and your people, eh? Wellllll, maybe a rough one for your Jewish side, but I bet the left side of your body was alll ‘wooo! it’s our time to shine!’ ”

“Okay, be real with me- are you more excited about your big Easter holiday yesterday or that today is the Dodgers Opening Day? I imagine you consider them both holy so I am just curious.”

“Hey lady, do you want to buy a joint?”
“Uhhh, do I really look like I am someone who would be down here to buy weed?”
“Well yeah…kinda.”
“That’s fair. No thank you, sir.”

“Miss Rachel, come here I want to pick you up to see how much you weigh!”
“I WILL NEVER LET YOU DO THAT.”
(He then proceeded to sit outside my office yelling out guesses for 25 minutes. His first was SEVENTY pounds over.)

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