"I'm Bringing Neon Back" ...

is what my co-worker Hoodie affectionately proclaimed on Tuesday morning to a few of my colleagues and I as though her wearing of neon might do something revolutionary like end the War in Iraq.

Neon was never really in, and apparently no one ever told her this. Thus, the onslaught began.

The impresario of all things fashion, I promptly told Hoodie that neon was coming back only in the form in which it first came, the Post-It notes, which I slyly held up in my hand and faced toward her.

Pinkster, another co-worker - one who embarassed me in ping pong on Friday, dug into Hoodie's sudden infatuation with neon better than I imagined.

"So now we understand why you don't have any boyfriends."

I stood out of my chair and started walking with the "oh my God, did she just say that?" look on my face. I only took about five steps, turned around and took the same journey back to my seat.

In that time, no one spoke. We all just waited to see how Hoodie would respond to such a brutal attack. But she couldn't. The Pinkster attempted to lighten the mood.

"You know, I only throw around my sarcastic words with people I'm comfortable with, and you're cool," she said making it seem as if all was good and her earlier words were going to get swept into a dustpan and off into the oblivion of trash talking.

But Hoodie fought back.

"When I like people, you know what I do?" she said and then continued answering her own question without hesistation. "I throw up in their food."

Call it the knockouts of all knockouts. Yeah, game over.

She's maybe delusional when it comes to making a fashion statement mistake with neon, but please believe I'm not slinging any haymaker-laced words, sarcastic or not, in Hoodie's direction anytime soon. No, son. No.