It is amazing what people will tell me. Some days I feel as if I have a sign scotch taped to my forehead that says "Dump Inappropriate Information Here".
Here is a sampling of things people tell or say to me that I just really don't want to know about:
*Partner #1 told me he doesn't like armpits. What the hell am I suppose to do with that information? And more importantly, why did he tell me that?
*Fancy Pants told me sometimes he likes to wear boxers over his boxer briefs because he "doesn't feel contained enough" with just one pair. Now I'm wondering if he's hung like a horse. It's a gross feeling because he's like my little brother.
*While buying tampons, the woman at the cash register said to me "These ones just won't work for me" Holding up the box I put on the counter. "I have a heavy flow"
*Just the other day, I was in the breakroom getting coffee. One of the other associates walked in as I was leaving. Trying to be polite, I said to him, "How's it going?" He said, "Well, that groin injury that I had a few days ago is getting much better"
*Upon meeting my neighbor for the first time, she told me the reason that she was pregnant was she didn't know prescription medication made birth control pills ineffective.
I leave for the triathlon on Friday. I have taken that day as a vacation day, yet I am still coming into the office before I take the bus to the airport. I need therapy.
I hate the word "titties". Something about it just gives me the creeps. Especially when I guy says it to you and is trying to be sexy.
I was drinking tea the other day when Fancy Pants strolled into my office and one of the many things he does to drive me nuts....touch stuff on my desk. He proceeded to dunk the tea bags up and down in my mug. I yelled at him to "stop tea bagging". He told me "if we were tea bagging, my balls would be out". Good Lord! What have I done to this kid?
By the way, when FP said "balls", I laughed so hard I nearly wet my pants.
We have an office meeting today and I'm afraid there will be donuts again. I wish that Cosmo would stop bringing them in. They are like little deep fried glazed clouds of heaven. I've already picked out a spot on my ass for the cellulite to adhere to.
PayPal is run by the Devil. I hadn't used my account in ages and it was still in my maiden name. When I tried to use it, my bank didn't recognized the name because everything else is in my married name. 3 hours later, 3 (BIG) glasses of wine, lots of pacing and I STILL haven't gotten it fixed. Their "conflict resolution department" is "looking into it".
That's a wrap, lovers.