Social faux pas?

I was chatting with a colleague who is abandoning us the other day, and lamenting his move. I'm not sure how it came up, but at some point he said 'well, I feel like we know each other pretty well.' I snarkily shot back, "I don't even know why I bother to remember your name."

I then had to explain that a neighbor of mine has a theory, or perhaps a social habit, that he is under no obligation to remember anyone's name until he has used that person's toilet. As I have never been to this colleague's home, ipso facto, I shouldn't be bothered to remember his name.

He immediately shot back: well I've peed at your house plenty of times. Doesn't it work both ways?

Well, I was stumped there, but as luck would have it, I ran into this particular neighbor at the Whiteaker's fabulous new coffee shop, The Wandering Goat, that very afternoon. So I explained to him how much mileage I had gotten out of his theory, that everyone with whom I have shared it has laughed merrily, and does it indeed work in reverse. Unfortunately, he looked at me as if I was drooling into his perfect cup of fair-trade drip-thru Ethiopean coffee and stated: "I never said that."

So did I make up this theory on my own? Did I have an imaginary conversation with my neighbor while walking down 4th Street on the summer day that Lilly and Kirk got married? (For I remember distinctly that he was walking home from their party.) Was he fucking with me this week? Was he high at the time and can't remember the conversation?

Stay tuned for a brief outage. I'm going to archive the blog here and switch to the new blogger engine. And hopefully solve my too-long archive list problem in the process.