Maybe I caught the MamaKitt’s memory of verbal you-know-what in awkward situations on Tuesday, because I had a wicked dumbass musical moment that afternoon. AND I AM HERE TO TELL YOU ABOUT IT NOW.

(And I’d be off-blog-topic in doing so, except for the part where I heard an ad for the concert that figures in my story on my way to work today. See? A SLIM THREAD OF RELEVANCE.)

On Tuesday my office did that thing that offices seem unable to help themselves from doing: going to lunch together. Awkwardness is INEVITABLE. We ALL KNOW IT. So why do people who work together insist on forcing social interaction? We barely talk at work — what are we going to talk about around a restaurant table?

Anyway, I was sitting awkwardly at this awkward lunch with my boss and the most annoying, incompetent person in our office, waiting for everyone else to arrive. Neither boss nor A-I person was making chitchat, so I worked my ass off keeping the ball rolling. The weather, the traffic — no topic was too inane.

Eventually I got us around to summer in our city, and fun things to do (not that I’d take advice on fun from either of these dudes). I have concert tickets for a show next week at a venue I’ve never been to, so I chatted up boss and A-I person about it. Boss actually knew the place quite well, and we killed a few moments on the topic.

Then we sat in silence. And I, for one, attempted to kill that time by focusing on the music playing in the restaurant. Once I realized what song was on, I said “Oh! These are actually the guys I’m going to see next week!”

My companions smiled wanly, not giving two shits about my little small talk story. Shortly thereafter, our other colleagues arrived. Shortly there-thereafter, I realized I’d told a big stinking fib.

Yeah, I was not hearing the band I’m seeing next week. I was hearing someone else entirely. Not only that, I was hearing someone who thought it would be good to drop an F bomb in the middle of their song. The song I’d just told my boss I liked.

Sigh. No way of getting out of that hole. “Gosh, boss, I was mistaken — the loudly cussing fellas on the radio right now are not actually the ones I like — sweartogod!” Nope. “Oh my oh my, boss, I didn’t realize there was a SWEAR in the middle of this tune!” No way.

Oh well. If I thought these dudes were even half listening to a word I’d been saying, I might fret more. But I’m thinking I’m in the clear.

Just STOOPID and in the clear.