I have a new angle on this joke that is so adorable, it might just be acute.

I basically have the sense of humor of an 80-year old dork.

Have you heard the one about the chicken?

Combined with the data retention of a computer.  Not Watson.  I'm not that good.  But maybe a Macintosh Classic.

Boxy and serviceable isn't necessarily bad.

But this combination means that I have the tendency to make really bad jokes using references either nobody understands or that they just don't find funny.  Ryan told me recently that a girl confessed to him that she was "really dorky in high school" and he asked her if she ever made the below gesture and declared something to be a tangent:

Because math jokes are always funny..

 All of which was fine, until I had to get a job.

Would you like a side of SLAYAGE?

And you know, interact with people.

There's a Buffy for every moment.

Steve, a former co-worker, recalled that he "wasn't so sure about me," because I shared this joke during my first week:

Incidentally, not invited to Steve's wedding.

But at least at my old place, I had a cushion of being around people my own age, each with their own degree of nerd.  At my current job, I'm not so lucky.  At some point a group of my colleagues were talking about how DC was "as tense as a warzone," and there's "just no dialogue between sides."  I chimed in with, "Yeah, it's all, 'whatever you say, say nothing," which was met with silence.  Because who doesn't love allusions to Northern Irish poetry?

Certainly not this guy.

I followed that one up with an even better one, don't worry.  At a staff meeting, we were talking about a client, and the dialogue went like this:

Coworker 1: Well they're talking about bringing in regulators.
Coworker 2: Regulators!
Me: MOUNT UP!

Always work appropriate.

Which brings me to this morning's meeting.  A woman was talking about how there is no cure for a type of arthritis, which, she said, is "just mind-bending."  I leaned over to the older, rather stodgy and professional man sitting next to me, made my hand into a claw and said, "Or does she mean finger bending???"

They intend to ignore me.

So in conclusion: My name is Katie, I am from New Jersey, and I should not be allowed in public. 

Douchebags are hygenic products, I take that as a compliment.  Thank you.