A Lush Called Wanda

I was perched at my desk at COMPANY NAME on Monday morning, sucking Wite-Out off my fingertips, when a Google Chat box flickered to life on my computer screen.

Nameless Former Co-Worker: I was hammered on Saturday night and I got a ride home from a guy I went to high school with and when I got out of his car, I barfed and then we made out.

Me: I just sent that to Married Mike. 

Nameless Former Co-Worker: Why? 

Me: He's into that kind of thing. 

Nameless Former Co-Worker: Did you use my real name? 

Me: Yes. 

Nameless Former Co-Worker: Okay. But don't tell anyone else. 

Me: Deal. 

A beat. 

Nameless Former Co-Worker: You're gonna blog about this aren't you? 

Me: Yes. 

Nameless Former Co-Worker: Fine. But call me 'Wanda' when you do. 

Me: Sure thing. 

A beat. 

Nameless Former Co-Worker: I haven't told you the worst part yet. 

Me: It gets worse? 

Nameless Former Co-Worker: He's got a girlfriend. 

Me: Wanda! 

Nameless Former Co-Worker: And she's fifty. 

A beat. 

Nameless Former Co-Worker: So, how was your weekend?