Little Miss Muffet...

Nearly lost her shit on her tuffet

When a spider dropped in to say "Hey"

He flopped down beside her, & crawled up her arm

All hairy & deadly & ready to play.

She was on the phone, with an important client

And couldn't really allude to the melee.

And so, the consummate professional, she shrieked:

"I need-to-put-you-on-hold-now-HOLDnow-HOLDNOW-HOLDNOW! If I may?".

And in her fancy shoes, she whipped off her top,

In a mock pornie form of ballet

Lest the spider {and his invisible friends} think

She was on the menu, as the much awaited entree

{k, so rhyming isn't my thing, but I should get points for trying, nay?}

CWG update

Please keep in mind that I'm easily distracted as is.

In that, Oooooooo, look, shiny! kind of way.

But tonight?

I was not there.

I mean, I was.

Technically.

In a purdy blouse and a pair of pumps that may have hobbled me worse than Kathy Bates.

But my head?

Somewhere else entirely.

I had a meeting with two people and the mechanical wonderment that is zero-tolerance has gone into play.

Bu CWG doesn't know this yet.

And I?

Could feel him in the building all night.

Happily, not in the physical sense.

Because that?

Is grosser than the Q-tip.

Than twenty-thousand Q-tips.

More in the my-spidey-senses-are-a-tingling-&-they-are-screaming-skeeze-alert, kind of feeling.

And sure enough.

Three hours after his shift.

There he is.

In all his pervie glory.

And I kid you not..... I was more distracted than a pedophile in a Barney suit.

{What IS it with me and the imagery? Dear God.}

Perfect Example: I went to Wendy's with a mate on my dinner break. And ordered a baked potato. With broccoli & cheese. And also, a Frosty {high five Lactaid}, with their new happy-topping option of Oreos {I heart Oreos, btw}. At least, that's what I thought I ordered.

And when they went to confirm my Frosty topping, I replied, with absolute certainty:

"Yes, please, I would like broccoli and cheese on my Frosty".

And to give my negotiating skills their proper due, the chick nearly gave me my "special order".

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.