Work with a kind of hot presenter from a Spanish speaking country. He has a Ricky Ricardo appeal — minus the bully aspect. He says “Do you know what is this product? You buy the product, no?” (Uh, no, I don’t.) “You remember when you learned to ride a bike, no?” (Not really, but I still like the way you tell this story even after I’ve heard you rehearse it 5 times, no?)
He had a gargantuan nose hair yesterday that mesmerized me as it danced in tune to his exhales. I went to my room and plucked my eyebrows last night it unnerved me so. Thankfully, he had a haircut and full shave, nostrils included, today.
I’ve often said I’m better with someone that is ESL as I do not think they fully grasp how crass I am.
Some of his endearing quotes include: “Last but not list.” “Give him a round of applows.” His video intro is “roll the bideo.” He’s so cute and seemingly naïve, I want to get into his Spanish fly.
He says something about teaching us the “foondamentals” and I say to a co-worker, “Oh my dios, that’s it. He’s so freaking adorable, I’m gonna ask him to marry me right now. I’m going to wait on the stage-right stairs on one knee and propose to him in front of (the voice of) god and all these badly-dressed, kool-aid drinking nuts when he comes off stage. Make sure we get this deranged moment on i-mag.”
He has some nonsense he wants to do where 10 people come onstage for some sort of review. This gets cut by the powers that be… sensible. He sidles up to me and thinks he slyly glances at my name tag without my knowing then says, “Sharon, I blame you for disappointing these people that wanted to present.” I’m only half listening because I am stunned that this beautifully broken Englished man whom I have fantasized about for all of 24 hours, (including that repulsive, rhythmic nose hair and a public proposal), does not know my name. I think, sure blame me when your hot-tempered wife finds out, I’ll say I was just giving you a hand brushing some nose hairs off your pants.