No, I don't have syphilis

Because it's A's last week and she likes when I blog about silly work conversations (like this and this and this):

Yesterday:

I was telling A about this Panic! at the Disco show. Click on that link, scroll down, and read about the opening band, Foxy Shazam. If it doesn't make you laugh so hard you cry, I think there's probably something wrong with you.

Me: Foxy Shazam means "cool shoes." Who knew? It's like how I say "Persnickety Phantasmagoria" instead of "I'm tired." We should make a band called "Persnickety Phantasmagoria!"
A: But I can't play an instrument.
Me: But you have a Wii. Get Rock Band and practice.
A: I don't think that's the same thing.

Today:

We had an off-site meeting. It was cold and drizzly. Even though it's August, even though I was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, I was still pretty cold. So, I announced, "If anyone wants to snuggle in a completely platonic way, I'm open to that."

They laughed.

I was totally serious.

Shortly thereafter, there was a quiz on our privacy policy. I couldn't participate, since I wrote a good chunk of the policy and it would've been unfair. So, instead, I kept track of points. While announcing the current point spread halfway through the quiz, I noticed that I'd gotten a mosquito bite on the palm of my hand (that's a new one for me) and while I was scratching away, our lead Disease Intervention Specialist implied that it wasn't a bite.

Itchy palms are a sign of secondary syphilis.

No, I don't have syphilis.

The team that won the privacy policy quiz got little tiny Mad Libs books. A, E, and I had some fun with the Mad Libs at lunch which somehow led to E saying "If anything needs to be thumped, it's your Box o'Smut."

And then B said, "It's gonna be a long-ass ride home with such a full stomach."
E responded, "Better than a long ass-ride."
She has a point.

(You totally want to each lunch with us, don't you?)