And then my shoes started to squeak...

So this morning as I was wandering through the office bustling through the corridors of employment on my Very Important Stationery Mission, I found myself going a way I did not usually go. A way that, lets face it, avoided seeing a girl that I know, vaguley through [insert typical melbourne story of flatmates, friends of friends, drunkeness, parties etc] "the traps".



Why was I avoiding her? Would it have something to do with having a dream in which she appeared last night on her weekend long "having sex in public" tour which she commenced to do in front of me while I was waiting for the public toilets. So not only did this girl cut in the line in front of me (when I really really needed to go to the toilet, too) but then she had loud sex in the stall! With some ugly random named Greg! What a bitch! And I was forced to try to use the boys toilets but they were all urinals and there were boys in those toilets watching me. And I'd just been trying to convince my friends at the seaside that I really would eat the fish as long as it was sashimi/tartare.



In other up-to-the-minute work news, if I had it in me to kill and kill again I would cheerfully bludgeon to death The Office Lady of my current place of employment. Fuck I hate that bitch. We have just engaged in a spirited discussion on - wait for it - blue pens. Bitch has been whinging that there are No Blue Pens. This is, apparently, a level 'Brilliant Magenta' stage of emergency because she is Stationerily Autistic. This is not a widespread phenomena but one which is highly likely to develop in Women of A Certain Age who have worked in one company for nearly 20 years and never progressed beyond Office Lady. It produces a crippiling unwillingness to use any stationery that is in any way different from the stationery that has been used before. Thus all blue pens are not equal, to the stationerily autistic, but as with snowflakes, unique and terrible and to be feared.


burn in hell, Office Lady xxherbert