Monday, August 22, 2005

the common bond between baby seals and annoying people...

clubbing...we all know what that means, right boys and girls? wrong. unlike a reference to a night of drunken revelry had at the expense of ugly, undersexed men the world over, this has to do with me and the bull shit parade that walks through my office on a near hourly basis, if not more frequently.

today, although i was feeling vastly better compared to yesterday, brought with it little energy and even less vigor. i and the rest of my co-workers would have been better served had a\i not left my bed at all this morning, but that wasn't a viable option being that i have bills to pay. at any rate, i made it to work sans espirit, and put my nose to the grindstone. i steadfastly spearheaded the non-work related messages in my "in-box" and managed to keep myself fairly busy sorting through all the junk funnies, chain letters, and those nostalgic emails that propell me headlong into my social calendar.

and then there was "her" -- "her", a prototypical annoying dependent wife, only she was slightly different from most other women in that genre on two very important accounts; she was slender and her wardrobe was well appointed to a fault. it was her giggle, her incessant seal-bark laughter that emmanated from the front desk and burrowed its way through my ear canals where it reverberated like a tawdry and tasteless joke against my very delicate eardrums. every two seconds, she would share her merriment in a way that could only produce mirth in the antichrist himself. much like the myth of medusa, i speculated that exposure to such a harsh sound might eventually turn me to stone.

every 1.5 nanoseconds, she would erupt into peals of "bark-bark-bark" over any and all minutiae, such as, "please have a seat now" or "the doctor will be right with you"; her laugh was the non sequitir thereof, coming at the most inopportune and poorly orchestrated moments. aside from being devoutly annoyed with her presence in general and her not-so-joyous noisemaking specifically, i thought to myself that maybe she was just on an elvis presley dose of reality numbing narcotics...or maybe i was just being a bitch like that fat girl from "facts of life".

eventually, she left, but only after having subjected me to the kind of sound that makes me want to club a baby seal on an occassion when it is 8 a.m., i feel un-recouped, and my coffee isn't strong enough to negate the bad feelings associated with the both.

i'm obviously in a bitchy mood and i need to get a good night's sleep. good night.