Calling The Pot Black

Mark is what you would call, high strung. Things that you or I would just accept as part of life, Mark takes to a new level and turns them into a scene.

This afternoon I took Mark out to lunch, in part to apologize for a perceived insult I threw his way yesterday. Apparently telling someone they don't have a pot to piss in is considered one of the worst insults ever meted out, according to Mark. Now mind you, I meant it as an all inclusive, not having a pot to piss in, meaning I don't either. After all, if Mark is piss pot-less, so am I. Anyway, it made for a frosty ride to the airport yesterday, and a quiet plane ride back home. Just for the record, Mark does have a pot to piss in, and in fact has more than enough pots to piss in. That was the gist of my 'insult'. You don't have to shop for any more crap Mark, you have enough!

So back to Mark and his being high strung. While sitting in our favorite little French cafe waiting for our lunch, Mark was sipping his iced tea and chatting away. What Mark forgot to do is stop sipping long enough to let the constant cascade of words out. Suddenly while yakking away, Mark's face turned red and he jumped up out of his chair, coughing and hacking. He had literally inhaled his iced tea. As Mark danced around the table, spewing iced tea all over me, the lady sitting behind us, in the most sincere of ways, asked "Is he alright?" "Yes." I replied, "He's just a big drama queen." It turns out that calling Mark a drama queen is also an insult. I'm not sure where I'll take him out tomorrow to make up for this one, but I guarantee it won't be the same restaurant where we went to lunch today.