Dear Oddball:

Okay, I can deal with you talking on and on to no one in particular all the time, I can take the muttering to yourself, and I even handle the inane conversations that you have with me. All of the times you say, �Phooey!� and �Uh, er, um, what was I saying?� are all quite fine and dandy. It�s also not a problem that you dress like you�re a mental patient who is wandering the halls. It�s ooookay. However, I must draw the line at one thing: please do NOT talk to me while I�m in the bathroom with you. There are just some times and places in a girl�s life where she doesn�t want to hold a conversation. Mine is the bathroom. I will allow that it�s okay to bend the rules once in a while, but I only do it when I�m with a really close friend, and even then we don�t carry on entire conversations. You? I don�t know you that well. And frankly, with what I do know, you scare me a little. For my strange ass to think you�re weird, you�ve got to be OUT there. So please, refrain from full-on chatter when I�m in the stall next to you. I�m really just in there to pee and get out, not to hear about the graduation party for your nephew that you attended last weekend. If you really need to tell me about the potato salad that badly, at least wait until I get out into the sink area. Criminy. We all know I have problems with going to the bathroom in peace, why you gotta add to that, woman? Damn. Thank you for your cooperation �

The One Who Alternates From Horror to Glazed Look in Her Eyes Whenever You Speak

P.S. You can also not talk to me about the potato salad outside of the bathroom. Really. Seriously, I�m humming the theme song to The Greatest American Hero in my head while you are talking to me. Sometimes I�m thinking about shoes. Either way, I really, REALLY don�t care. Thank you.

I was telling one of my coworkers yesterday about the earlier bathroom chatfest with this woman, and then when I went in later, I hadn�t even cracked open the main door to the bathroom an inch and she was in there in one of the stalls, already talking away about getting her hair highlighted. I don�t think it matters who she talks to. Kinda scary. It also took every ounce of my being not to burst into a fit of laughter. Yes, I�m horrible. Ah well.

The Friday Five questions today were pretty much all about hair, so I�m skipping them this week. I know you�re all dying to know how I wear my hair, what color it is, and its density. How will you ever sleep tonight without that knowledge? The only good question was about any past hair disasters. Not counting my adolescent years when it was okay to have a perm, I�m going with the time I let my mother dye my hair and she missed one whole thick strand. I was just waving my hands and yelling, �I�m Zebrahead! You�ve made me a bad Michael Rapaport movie! ZEBRAhead!� Thankfully, we were able to re-dye it and cover that up. Phew.

Finally, I�ll end today with a Pseudo-Gavin story. This morning I was sitting at my desk, chatting away on the phone when I saw him come strolling up the walk. The people who work in his office never look in our window, but today he just looked right over for some reason. I hope he doesn�t read lips, because I�m on the phone with my friend saying, �Oh my God, he�s looking at me right now. Oh my God! I think he thinks I�m a lunatic.� His face scrunched up in this �What the hell is the woman who waters the plants doing working in that office?� sort of way. Clearly, he thinks I�m insane. I can tell by his face. Damn you fake plants! Curses! Foiled Again! [sigh] Such is my life�.

before & after





2007-09-26 - Follow Me!
2006-09-30 - Site Move & Favorite Entries
2006-09-25 - Evil Easter Bunnies & Rock Climbing!
2006-09-22 - Shameful-Purchase Hiding & A New Dentist Plan
2006-09-19 - Birthday Picture/Video Diary & The Wheelmobile





Copyright 2003-2006 by Sockgirlie. Stealing is wrong.