clap away

Today's lunch conversation illustrates one of the only things that I'll miss when I leave my firm. The utterly ridiculous, side-splitting laughter that I share with the associates I call friends here. There really isn't anywhere else in the world that you can expect to sit and discuss the graphic details of Mexican whore-houses and open-mouth kissing prostitutes who have blown at least 5 guys that night, segue into a conversation about puking, then back to strippers who use fake accents to seem exotic, and round it out with talk of sticking two hands up Associate M's wife's ass and trying to clap. I don't know why, but the phrase "off the bag" makes me gag and laugh at the same time. Thanks to Associate T for teaching me that colorful term. If you don't know what it means, shoot me a message and we'll have a little chat about the birds and the bees.

I may be happier when I get out of here, but I certainly doubt I'll be able to laugh about my fellow coworkers sexual exploits in quite the same way ever again.