Oh, Harvey.

Harvey is one of the managers at work and he consistently makes me laugh out loud with his Eeyore outlook on life. He's hilarious, has an incredibly sharp wit, and I want nothing more than for him to be happy because I really love him. But every time I suggest something I think he might enjoy, he shoots it down with a wet blanket response. All of our conversations end with me saying, "Oh, Harvey!" 

Example: You know those pop-up ads online that ask, "When will you die?" and offer a quiz predicting your death? Well, Harvey took one of those. The last person on earth who needed to take this quiz, took this quiz.

Harvey: Well, I have 12 years left to live.

Me: What are you talking about?

Harvey: I took a survey online and it said I have 12 years left.

Me: Right, perfect. An online quiz. That should be entirely accurate.  

Harvey: 12 years.

Me: So live it up, Harvey! Go crazy! Date some hotties, have an extra martini with dinner, go wild!

Harvey: Nope. It'll be me and BoBo until I die. And he'll outlive me. So I have to figure out what to do with him.

(BoBo is his dog).

Me: Oh, Harvey!

It's really hard not to love Harvey.

Anyway, the other day Amalia and her mom (roommate? No, mom. Mom?!) popped into the restaurant to show off their haircuts and nails. Amalia happily mentioned that her nail color was "Hot and Spicy." Turning to Harvey I teased, "You used to wear Hot and Spicy right, Harv?"

With perfect comedic timing, he looked at me flatly and responded, "Yes. But now I wear Lukewarm and Tasteless."  

And then he turned and walked away.