So, I started a new job recently and so far it doesn’t suck. It helps that I am getting paid enough to be rich, which is a lie as I am not even getting paid enough at this point to be considered poor. According to my current tax bracket, I am qualifiably destitute; a situation befittingly contrasted by my wearing a $300 Diane von Furstenberg top to the office today. I own a top that cost more than I will make this entire week… which is all the evidence one needs to make a sound judgement about where my priorities in life have, until now, laid.
Today I walked into the break room and was talking to some other staff members. One of the girls was eating the type of little brittle round cookies you get at the grocery store, like Chips Ahoy or Bits Me Matey ( I made that up as an example of, and suggestion for the name of, an off-brand of Chips Ahoy) and she was spooning gobs of peanut butter on top and eating them. I found this delicious because I love cookies and I love peanut butter, yet repulsive because… well… I looked at her and her disgusting fatbody shoving oily goop atop the nutritional equivalent of polyester down her throat.
Not one to be judgmental (which is a lie because I am HUGELY judgmental of all things and people from a distance) I waved off this grotesquerie and went about my own business.
Later, I walked in to the break room to find that same girl spooning peanut butter, but not onto cookies this time… something much smaller. Pretending to fiddle with a more proximal task, I leaned in and took a glance to see what the proverbial cracker to this spread could be. I was shocked to find her reaching into a bag of trail mix. Now I’m no robust mountain hiker, but I’ve been to enough vending machines to know that trail mix is mainly, yes, PEANUTS. I looked at her hands to find her pincer-grasping a SINGLE PEANUT and proceeding to spread PEANUT BUTTER on top of it and eat it. I literally had to stop and take a moment to be confused with my entire body. I mean, really, you wouldn’t put a sweater on a sheep. Who does this? That’s not even just like putting a sweater on a sheep, that’s like putting a sweater on each individual strand of the sheep’s wool. This act could not be any nuttier if it occurred on the set of A Clockwork Orange (double pun intended). Straight up topsy-turvy.
This is the kind of woman that tells me humankind will not indefinitely survive.
into a self-pitying sleep. Which were my other options for the evening.So here I go: having a place to put shit and re-hash shit and aggrandize myself and outwardly display my crazy.Using this blog will probably ensure that I will never have another boyfriend, repectable job, or a future in politics.
seeallisonplay 