I’ve had a good couple of days. Too good to continue, that’s for sure. And I think this blog’s to blame.

Ever since a bunch of people started reading this thing and leaving comments, I’ve started thinking something new: that I’m interesting and funny, and people like to hear what I have to say.

You can tell, I’m sure, from the beatdown I gave Ashley and my jokey posts the past few days that I’ve been relaxing and basically turning off my "think about it before you say it" filter.

Shit, what a mistake. If everyone were able to magically take back — completely erase so nobody remembers — three statements in their lifetime, what happened today would have been one of my times.

First, here’s a little background. One of the people in my team, who I’ll call "Elaine," obviously had a boob job around the Christmas break. That is, she took a "vacation" around the middle of December and came back to work in January with these comically enormous knockers. Seriously, they’re porn star jugs.

Today, we had the team’s weekly status meeting, where everyone goes around the room and explains where their projects are and tries to make it sound like everything’s going to plan, and you’re really busy but capable, and otherwise fool the manager into believing you don’t mostly surf the web all day, every day.

So I’m sitting by Richard, whispering sarcastic little comments about people, as people take their turns. When it’s Elaine’s turn, she says something like, "If Ops doesn’t deliver the schema I’ve spec’d out by this time next week, their prospective customer email push program is in very big trouble."

And I whispered to Richard, "As big as her boobs?" You know, just a throwaway reference to her boob job.

The trouble is, I had the bad luck to say it right at the moment all the talking had died down and the blower for the heating vent had turned off.

In other words, every single person could hear me as clear as a bell.

Everyone looked at the table. Elaine’s face turned red and she folded her laptop shut and walked out of the room. I looked over to Richard, hoping he’d give me a clue how to get out of this, but he was looking down and away.

So I said, "I’d better go tell her I was joking," and I left too.

But she wasn’t in her office, and she hasn’t been in there the five or six other times I’ve walked by.

Other than that, I’ve been staying in my office with the door closed. Richard hasn’t been by. Nobody else has, either. Not even my manager.

I need to remember: this is real life and anything I say can bite me in the ass. I shouldn’t joke. I shouldn’t goof off. I shouldn’t think I’m funny. From now on, I’ll remember to keep my thoughts to myself.

I am such a jackass. I wish I had never been born.