And another thing....

Totally unrelated.

But equally disgusting.


A few days ago?

In the lunchroom, right outside of the classrooms?


On the counter?


Next to a kettle?

And below the slew of microwaves?

Was a Q-tip.

Used.

Barf me a bucketful, why don't ya?

Seriously, who is heating up their Lean Cuisine & thinks, "You know what would be an awesome decision right now? To clean my cacky ears out with this here cotton bud. And whilst I'm at it, let me leave some of my waxy DNA for the next poor soul who needs to nuke their nummies.".

After they empty the contents of their stomach.
Obviously.

And I preface this with the statement:

I really do think he would fuck a donkey.

But still.

So......

People.

My Monday night?

Was eventful.

In that, I-feel-the-need-to-shower-extensively-to-wash-the-muck-of-someone-else's-twisted -psyche-off-my-spiritual-skin, kind of eventful.


This is the skinny.

I work in a large environment. Filled with many, many different kinds of people. Most of whom? Add positively to my life in some manner. Some, albeit, more than others. But most? I would not complain about.

Unless I was feeling bitchy.

And also, petty.

Which happens sometimes. Especially when I'm tired. And hungry. And stressed.

But that is neither here, nor there.

To recap: most people, thumbs up.

But there is one guy.

Whom we shall call "creepy white guy".

'Cause that's really what I call him.

You know, the kind of guy whose picture you would not be surprised to see posted in the newspaper, under the heading: "Man! Molester! Children, animals, he knows no bounds!!".

Seriously.

This guy could not fit the stereotype more if he tried.

Hard.

The kind of guy you could imagine {but don't. Please.} masturbating to Reader's Digest and having skinned kittens hanging from his ceiling.

Yeah. I do have a way with the imagery. I apologize in advance.

Back to the story.

So, "creepy white guy" has been making me uncomfortable for some time now, if for no other reason, then he was giving me bad vibes. And then I noticed that he always tried to insert himself {I'm sorry for that one too} into conversations where females were involved and he, simply, should not be.

And also, he looks down shirts.

Blatently.

I first saw him do this a few days ago. To a girl who is lovely and beautiful. And also? Barely legal. And I thought maybe that mine eyes were deceiving me. But I said something to her.

And started paying more attention.

And then tonight. I was dealing with an issue and he strolled on up and gave his opinion. Totally work related. High five. No biggie.

And then says, & I do quote, "You remind me of something".

And because I have an inquisitive mind, and also because I truly did not know where he was going with this, I said "What?".

And he, as he looks directly at my breasts, says ....

"Strawberry Ice Cream".

*ahem*

I was torn. Inside.

What I wanted to do: was say "What the fuck?".

What I did: was give him a look like I had smelled something foul and then walked away.

That is creepy, right?

I mean, I would much rather a guy openly pull his junk out, swing it around and say" Want some of this bad boy?", so that I could honestly reply, "No, thank you" & be done with it.

But this sneeky, intoverted, pervie, "I'll worm {sorry. Penis reference again} my way into your world, and then hump your leg and pretend that it isn't happening" kind of thing just is making my skin crawl.

So I thought about it. I'm a big girl. A grown-up {so I'm told}. And I've dealt with characters who are much more shady than CWG {I've acron-ized him}. But if he wigs me out, and I know that he is doing this to girls who are still in their teens, then God forbid, he should do something to someone who wouldn't say anything.

Cause I?

Would claw his beady eyes out.

But that is not professional.

So I spoke with a co-worker.

And apparently, {big surprise here}.....he has been warned before.

I know. Shock & awe. The perve has been previously pervie. Perfect.

And this means that it goes all the way to head office.

Tomorrow.

Which means tonight, the word went around. And a bunch of us were moved out of the section that he was in, as a "precautionary measure".

I shit you not.

And because, as a group, we are nothing if not mature, we made barely diguised jokes about it for the rest of the evening.

Kind of like the way kids will stand in front of the mirror and say "Bloody Mary" just to prove the elusive boogie man has no real power.

And I have a new nickname.

Just call me Straw. As in berry.

What I have learned so far this week...

1. I am a cynic, and thus my expectations of people were pretty low to begin with. How wrong I have been. They should have been much, much lower.

2. I can make the word "sir" sound like "motherfuckingcocksucker" with very little effort.

3. I have done this extensively in the last few days.

4. MacGyver, I am not. Because, he? Would have been able to escape unscathed from the bathroom stall that imprisoned me at 1 am at work {!!!!} by simply reaching in his purse {he is much more feminine in my world} to fashion a piece of gum and a bottle of lotion into a bomb that simultaneously would break the door down and moisturize the ashy. Me? I kicked at the door 3 times in frustration in The Shoes That Were Meant For Sitting Only and proceeded to sanitarily place toilet paper on the ground as though I were creating a garden path and then crawl on said paper, valiantly trying to levitate. I was unsuccessful, and am currently shooting up antibacterial hand-wash as though it were heroin and I, Kate Moss' boy toy.

5. Wardrobe malfunctions are not just for celebs. Case in point? Monday, when the Boy stopped by my house to surprise me with a hug. Awww, huh? Except. *ahem* I was working later that day. And so? Was still in pj's. Cute, cute pj's. All matchy and shit. Except? The top I chose to wear with the snazzy blue and green pin stripped pants with the darling green ribbon? Was lace. And, also? My nipples showed right through it. Which? I did not notice before. And also? Only noticed after HIS STUDENT {who came in to say "Hey! Nice to meet you Crazy Lady!"} walked back outside to the car and I was all like "He's really sweet and hey it's kind of cold in here...OH MY JESUS, why didn't you tell me you could see MY BOOBS???". Or something.

6. Boys can be really snitty when you accidentally KA-THUNK! them in the testicles. With your purse. Your twenty tonne purse that contains enough supplies to see the world through to the next millennium. Really snitty. Go figure.

7. I can find small joys in mundane places. Names of people that I have actually talked to this week: Bawlhair {and his wife, HarryBushe...k, I made that part up}, Ning Dong {say that fast in your head} & Shaidi Moreles {cross my heart & hope to laugh}.

And it's only Wednesday....

Good Housekeeping

After he cooked us breakfast using every single solitary utensil that he owns....

Boy: The kitchen is full of dirty dishes.

Me: Would you like me to wash them?

Boy: No, not really. I don't feel like doing them either. If only they were self-cleaning...

Me: Well, perhaps if you had a...

Boy: {cutting me off} If only there was a machine. A self-cleaning machine that was specially made for dishes...

Me: You think you are SO funny today, don't you?

Boy: Yes. Yes I do.

Hello Obvious....

A conversation in futility...

Me: Boy, do you feel like pizza?

Boy: {pats his arm & his face} Nope.

Me: {pausing whilst his silliness sinks in} Dude!

Me so horny.

After kissing Boy, who had eaten Hot Sauce with his dinner.

Me: You taste like Vietnamese.

Boy: {grinning all gonad-esque} When's the last time you ate a Vietnamese person?

Me: Dude! I meant Vietnamese food!

Boy: Was it Cum-Of-Some-Young-Guy?

Me: {smacking him on the arm} Boy!

Boy: Ouch! I kinda deserved that one, huh?

Me love you long time.

Talk about red cheeks.....

A dialogue with my mom. If you can consider it a dialogue when one party begins in a coma, & the other ends up there.

Me: {sleepily} Mmmmmelllo?

Mom: Andrea? You will never guess what I saw on the way home tonight!

Me: {going towards the light} Hmmmmm? {fading. fading}

Mom: We have to pass this, well, you know, a, well, a place that, ummm, you know....

Me: {crankily} Mom, what? What did you pass? I'm almost unconsious here.

Mom: Well, T. & I have to pass this, well, an establishment for {she starts to whisper} working girls.

Me: Pardon?

Mom: A cat house.

Me: You passed a strip joint, Mom?

Mom: {all innocent and giggly}. Yes! And you'll never guess what one lady was wearing?!

Me: Ummm, first off, is "lady" really the politically correct term, Mommy? And, let me guess, she was wearing.....ummm, nothing?

Mom: Andrea!

Me: What? You asked!

Mom: Guess again! You'll never guess!

Me: Ok, don't believe in my potential. Tell me then.

Mom: She was wearing {long pause as she musters up the courage to say it aloud}..... pants.....with no BUM!!!!!!

Me: {seeing her blush through the phone} You mean ass-less chaps, Mom?

Mom: Andrea Louise Monica Brennan! You know what those are? You know what they're called?!

Me: {sensing an opportunity too good to pass up} Yup. Got me a pair for those weekends with the Boy in London.

Mom: {hits the floor with a thud as her last fleeting thought is where did I go wrong?}

Wait til I tell her about the nipple tassels I picked up especially for Church...