One of the Major Office Babes arrived at my section with a Birthday Brownie. “Whose birthday?” I asked.
“Mine. Tomorrow, anyway.” And on the way out the door, a number about six to ten percent higher than I had expected to hear.
“Dayum,” said I, almost reverently.
She grinned. “Should I sell my DNA on eBay?”
“I’d buy it. And I’m not even a girl.”