Mark Twain, great legs and burning fork.

I'm at work at the GLBT center, and I'm reading the latest issue of The Advocate. Yupe, that's all I do here. That, and looking all pretty when someone walks in. So far, 2 compliments and counting.

So I'm reading The Advocate, and I came across this line by Mark Twain in an article:

The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.

That man obviously has not traveled much. I mean, he wouldn't have said that if he's ever been to New York or Colorado or a giant freezer.

I wonder why is he so famous?

This is my 2nd time working at the center. Man, was I a sheltered little kid.

"Hi, I'm Snakehead. I'll be a shadow today at 1pm," I said as I walked in.

"You're definitely not shadowing me. I'm leaving in 5 minutes," the guy sitting at the table said.

"Oh, so you're not William?"

"No. I'm Sean. Will should be here any minute now."

Boss walks in.

"Hey Snakehead, how's it going?"

"Good, thanks," I flashed him a smile.

"Sean, you know who's coming in after Will?" Boss asked.

"Let me see here... It's John. Oh John!"

"Really? John? Wow. Haven't seen him in a while."

"Me too. He has great legs."

"Oh yes he does."

Both of them smile at each other knowingly.

"John used to work here alot," Sean explains to a puzzled looking me. "He's a straight guy, tall, muscular, has a goatee. Married and all. And he would come in here in short skirts and stockings and heels. His legs look great."

I opened and closed my mouth but no words came out.

"Yeah," Boss chimed in. "He wears these really tiny little skirts and usually hides his legs under the desk, and when he gets up, people usually go (step back, clutch chest, gasp) wow."

"And he's married?" I asked just to make sure.

"Yeah," Sean answered. "And he takes the bus and the subway to get here too, dressing like that."

"You should meet him later," Boss said.

"Oh I will. Definitely."

I wonder if his wife knows about this.

In other news, I burnt my lips last night the stupidest way ever. I used a fork to stir the spaghatti meatball sauce I was making, and I got dumb and stick the fork into my mouth right after I took it out of the pot because I couldn't wait to drop the fork and yell "fuck" while my lips are on fire.

And all I wanted was just a taste to see if it needs more red wine.