Nothing ruins a cute outfit like a comment from the badly dressed. I know, ticket to hell. But really, when you think you're all cute and style-y and someone wearing dog socks and brown loafers with a black suit complements you, it's stings just a little. Going to hell, yes, I know. I'm just saying. Also, understand that I'm sharing my inner monologue with you guys. Most people don't share their petty and evil thoughts so freely, so feel blessed or something. Anyway, example:

This morning I woke up and got dressed in a haphazard manner (instead of relying on one of my pre-matched tried and true garanimal outfits) and looked in the mirror and thought "Hey, not bad." I was wearing black wide-leg sailor pants with this shirt and a red cardigan and had on my pointiest-toed shoes. I thought it was pretty good considering I didn't plan it or anything. (What, you don't plan your outfits in advance and then document your couture with polaroids so you don't repeat a look more than once every 30 days? Wait, that's not me, that's Carson. Moving on.)

Anyway, immediately upon arriving to work I had the following conversation with the Fish Lady (who wears Teacher Outfits. Example: navy blue slacks belted just below the boobs, decorated blouse or sweater indicating the season, navy blue Easy Spirit pumps.) :

Fish Lady: Wel-el, don't YOU look nice today!
Me: thank you.
Fish Lady: I like your shoes. You really like shoes, don't you. You have a lot of them.
Me: I guess.
Fish Lady: Well, but pretty soon you'll be out working in your garden!
Me: ?

She does that a lot - changes the subject mid-conversation. Her two main topics of conversation with me seem to be:

1) My shoe collection, Size of
2) My garden, Status of

Apparently by bringing in some potted daffodils one day, I gave her the impression that I'm a crack gardener? She keeps ASKING if I've planted anything or if I'm going to be planting anything or if I've plotted out my garden or whathaveyou. The shoe thing is anyone's guess. I wear shoes, yes, so apparently that makes me A COLLECTOR.

I love that she managed to work both topics of conversation into one bizarre exchange.

I haven't actually talked much about my job lately, but rest assured, it still sucks. I had a "brainstorming" meeting with my boss and co-worker yesterday in which many incredibly boring tasks were delegated to me. Hi, I'd like to buy a one-way ticket to Quitsville? Oh, that train stops in Disgruntleton, too? Perfect. I can have lunch.

Amazingly HI-Larious information I found out about Annoying Co-Worker: She apparently bragged that her telephone number is unlisted because she's good friends with a Very Famous Person. The celebrity in question? A well-known female crime writer who's last name rhymes with Pornwell and, who, from all accounts, is a certifiable bitch. This just explains so much. It also helps to firm up my suspicion that Annoying Coworker plays for the other team. This is not an issue for me or anything, just an observation. Meow. (Internal! Monologue! I thought it worth repeating.)

And, oh, good Lord. My boss brought her small dog into the office and Annoying Co-worker is practically humping it with over-zealous ass kissing babytalk. I think just threw up a little bit in my mouth.

Holy freaking crazy crap, my nightmare has been put down. The Report, the one that's been torturing me with it's numerous revisions for the past six months has just been dropped into a Fed-Ex box for it's final trip to hell. I felt like kicking it across the street on the way to the drop. I hate that report and everything to do with it. If it comes back to me a fourth time I'm going to burn it on the floor in the middle of the office. Yeah.

8 chatty monkeys