Coworkers know that I am not the most patient man in the world. My forbearance is at a particularly low-ebb early in the morning, when still grumbly and bleary-eyed I stumble in to the office to listen to my voice-mails and swear under my breath.
This is NOT an aspect of my loveable personality that Savage Kitten is familiar with. From the moment I wake up till when I leave the house I have a smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye. I am sparkling, cheerful, and good natured.
The pretence is draining.
At the office, however, I revert to my instinctual pattern of morning behaviour.
It's called rabies.
Yesterday morning, while attempting to listen to my messages, I was subjected to a massive flood of inane chatter coming from the other side of the wall. That is where the blondes live.
It was a pulsating high pitched squeal-drone of several voices speaking of their wonderful personal experiences while shopping and eating and shopping and visiting friends and shopping and going to movies and shopping and having dinner and shopping and boys and shopping and chocolate and shopping and handbags and shopping and coffee and shopping and file folders and shopping and clothes and shopping and fabulous jewelry and shopping and make-up and shopping and last night's television show and shopping ....... !
Sweet pickles, ladies, but you lead dreadful lives! Why are you sharing the details? Are you trying to make the rest of us miserable as well?
Have you ever thought of shutting up? For the good of mankind?
Do I need to zap you-uns with a tazer?
I am ever so grateful that Savage Kitten is not blonde. I do not think I could maintain my gracious mask of gentle wonderfulness in the morning if she were.
I am also very glad that she does not visit me at the office. She would probably take one look at the blondes, and decide to poke them with a sharp stick. Or worse.
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THE TURKEYS
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3 comments:
Blondes in your walls? Are you quite sure that you're not hearing voices? Voices telling you to go shopping? Can anybody else hear these blondes?
Send your wall-eyed blondes my way - I am always interested in what the mysterious female of the species has to say.
I am an anthropologist, did you know that?
And further, keely interested in female shopping.
---Grant patel
Blondes in your walls?
They're like cockroaches, the wet weather brings them out.
Oops, um, I mean.. those aren't OUR roaches, they're from the neighbors DOWNSTAIRS. Yes, such dirty people. We don't have cockroaches, it's them. Yes.
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