Sporking With Miss Val

Chick crushes can be fun. Especially if they are returned. These days, with Millie Of The Million Miles an email and a long-ass flight away, I find myself falling for whatever strikes my fancy, be it books, blogs, scratch-and-sniff stickers or Miss Val.

Miss Val is a lady three years older than me who has worked at my current place of employment since she graduated high school. No college (so she isn't in debt up to her butt), but smarter than I hope to be. Pagan by way of religion, though I think she is more Wiccan-oriented than she cares to admit. And she looks like a cross between Scarlett Johansson and Marcia Brady. Frankly, I'd kill for her wardrobe (and her hair) because she looks so great in all those weird retro outfits. I'd look gangly, but Val is so perfect that I feel like her fantastic looks rub off on me like the colors from a butterfly's wings.

I grab my crappy little Wal-Mart Tupperware knockoff container of leftovers and rush down every day for lunch. It's the same way I used to feel when Wonderfalls used to be on TV -- all giddy and more than ready to go. And we sit down in the lunch area, eating with the endless supply of sporks she has at her disposal. We chat and giggle and hoot. The other day we spent the entire lunch rewriting movie titles with "woodchuck" replacing main words, like A Woodchuck On Elm Street, Desperately Seeking Woodchuck, The Woodchuck Club, or Better Off Woodchuck.

I love sporking with Miss Val. I'm going to have serious suggest going to dinner at a cool restaurant and have her bring sporks to use instead of the good flatware provided by the restaurant.