Okay, yesterday for me, but today for YOU
2005-08-24 ~ 11:51 p.m.
Today's lesson: White pants + black thong = fashion disaster
Yep. I sit with my back to Ann but I keep a mirror propped up on the edge of my desk so that no one sneaks up on my and tries to steal my soul. Anyway, yesterday, I noticed Debbie standing by Ann's desk yammering away and at first I didn't really take much notice of it, except for pitying Ann of course.
Debbie is an interesting case. She, like me, never shuts up. Unlike me, however, she is not in the least bit entertaining. (Shut uuuup, people like me, they really do, they wouldn't make fun of me if they didn't like me, that's what my momma always said)
Anyway, so Debbie just talks and talks and talks and she's just so dense and clueless but she's also so darned needy and sensitive and Ann and I are both nice enough people that we don't want to hurt her so we just there and suffer silently while she talks and talks and talks and we wonder whether she'll ever take a breath and listening to her is a lot like being stuck in the middle of this paragraph and not knowing how to end it except that our conversations with Debbie have no handy little scroll bar so we just have to wait and wait and wait until it's all over.
And finally, it is. Except then it's not. Which is what happened yesterday.
See, Debbie was talking to Ann and I stopped and did a double take because I spotted the white pants/black thong train wreck. And I'm peering and peering into my little mirror hoping and praying that my eyes were deceiving me but no they weren't and I saw Ann seeing me staring into the mirror and I saw her trying her mightiest not to start giggling so I leave the mirror and compose an email to her. Subject line: "Debbie O." And the text was the opening sentence of this entry.
Anyway, I wait until Debbie turns to walk away and then I hit send. And then, the horror, the horror! she turns back to Ann to continue talking to her and all I can think of is that Ann's email was about to pop-up and Debbie is facing right directly into her monitor and I want to yell, "NO DEBBIE, TURN AWAY FROM THE LIGHT!!!" but instead I BOLT out of my chair and stand between Debbie and Ann's monitor and I WILLINGLY inserted myself into the CONVERSATION OF DOOM just to spare the doom-meister from having her feelings hurt.
And it turns out my self sacrifice wasn't even necessary because Ann, the slacker, didn't even have her email up.
And now we're have a dinner date with her and Christine (another chatterbox) next week. Me and my snarky emails.
