I’d like you to meet Roberta Boislade. She sent me a Facebook friend request this morning. I’m sure she’s a lovely lass. Just the kind of girl you’d like to take home and introduce to the vicar (though she might want to put some trousers on first).
The thing is: I don’t recall actually meeting her. Usually when I get a friend request from Facebook, I normally (in my conventional, old-fashioned way) assume it’s someone I have met. Most of the people I know tend to be computer programmers, but she doesn’t really look like one of those. But I’m sure this is a genuine profile and not spam AT ALL. Of course it is.
There’s a Roberta who often serves me in the Subway near the office. Maybe it’s her! But if it is, then she might want to have some words with her manager about her unflattering uniform. Because the Roberta that serves me my Meatball Marinara is only about five-foot high, and could only be described as “curvy” in the same way that a partially-inflated bouncy castle is curvy.
To work colleagues past and present: if this is your girlfriend, then tell her to put a vest on. She’ll catch her death in that getup!