September 30, 2008...1:59 am

I was abducted by Talks-To-Herself-Lady and Serenades-Me-Guard and forced to help them record an album called “Soundtrack of the Office”

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Actually I’m just a slightly preoccupied, very overworked, extremely undersexed and slightly lazy asshole, and I’ve been off being a slave to the man instead of blogging. But today, I am back. 

I have once again been intrigued by something in the bathroom at work. Since my first day I’ve noticed the ladies’ room often smells like smoke. I always just figured one of my cigarette addicted coworkers couldn’t sit through their nicotine fit long enough to drag their lazy ass to the elevators and then wait several excruciating minutes for the elevator to arrive while making awkward conversation and avoiding eye contact with the other smokers. I was sort of impressed by the bad ass factor of someone actually lighting up in our high traffic bathroom.

This assumption and the discovery I made shortly after leads me to ask, isn’t reality just a fantasy-stomping little prick?

“It smells like smoke,” I shared with my do-gooder overly friendly, overly happy, overly caffeinated and most likely undersexed cubicle neighbor. And she said “Yeah, that’s me.” At this point I look at the giant crucifix hanging around her neck and noted that the huge dumb grin on her face probably means she was not lighting up next in the stalls next to any number of our execs. I looked at her quizzically.

“I light matches after I go number 2, so other people don’t have to smell it!” Her grin widened. I could see she was trying to be thoughtful, and was fishing for some sort of pat on the back. “Oh!” I said, trying to look grateful/impressed/the opposite of disappointed and horrified. She walked away, humming a church hymn and seeming quite pleased with herself.

I hold her personally responsible for the fact that for the rest of my life the smell of burned matches will conjure a pretty foul visual. Thanks for sharing, Church Lady! 

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