Boy Was I!

You may recall my Friday social dilemma involving colleagues asking me whether or not I was ready for the weekend. The solution to that on going angst came in the form of a Friday script. I was instructed to stop stating that I didn't understand the question and reply instead with "Boy am I!".
The Friday after receiving the script none of my usual interrogators approached me. I was left waiting in the wings of social repartee's theater.
Yesterday, though, my moment came.
A colleague approached me with clear dread written on her face. She took a deep breath and once again asked the inevitable Friday question.
"Are you ready for the weekend?"
My mind froze. My moment had come. I paused to collect my thoughts and my courage. Her expression began to change from that of polite expectation to one of pity. I knew that if I didn't speak soon the expression would move from pity to defeat and she would once again walk away confounded by my inability to participate in the game of mindless social exchanges.
And then I did it.
"Boy am I!" I said probably a bit too late and with just a tad too much enthusiasm.
Never the less, my Friday interrogator appeared first stunned and then thrilled.
Her reply mirrored my exuberance.
"Me too!"
There. We were done. And just in the nick of time.
We had exchanged no useful information. Apparently, however, we had exchanged something more valuable than information. We shared good feelings and positive energy.
I'm hooked.
Boy am I!