Is that mean…
So I am beginning to think that it was a VERY bad idea to give Tom my email address. I have received a total of eight emails in the past three days; all of them dealing with space, or air travel, or some other thing that I’m not really interested in. On Monday, the theme was space; some planet called X (not named after Malcolm) that’s suppose to come within the earth’s orbit around 2012. I don’t know why I know that much about that shit but I could care less. I have Jesus so I don’t need to know all the inner workings of how he’s gonna take us all out. I just need to know if all of my actions here on earth got me on Jesus’ VIP list. Can I get an Amen?!
So I learned way too much about this man over the week. I’ve learned about too many of his issues, and I won’t mention them here because I think that would be very tasteless but let me tell you….I did NOT care to know ‘em. I understand that the age difference between me and my co-workers often induces long pauses whenever we are having a conversation but that time should not be filled in with you telling me all of Tom’s biznazz. Now I scared to know what they say about me. The only things that pop into my mind are the things my parents say about me that really catch me off guard, like the first time they took notice of how tight I liked my clothes to fit, or how soft my hands are because I made excuses for getting out of doing manual labor, or how they LET me get away with watching all of that porn over the years (yeah they knew!). These are things I never thought they picked up on. Oh well.
So back to Tom. So that day I tweeted about boss lady….I’m sorry, Boss-Lady walking in on a recent fart in my office and totally backing out of the room letting me know she had caught a whiff (I’m so sorry ‘bout that), she was coming in to tell me that my new office space (our offices are moving a floor up so that everyone will be in cubicles) had been changed. Let me tell you. On Monday, I had made a stop on the new floor to “grab a document that I had printed out of a new printer” (a.k.a. look at my new space. They had just added name tags.) So I turn the corner and see my cube with my name on the outside. I smiled cuz that was a sign that I was no longer a “temp”. They had actually invested in at least a name plate for me (well the name was printed on paper but that took capital to make.) Then I did a 360. Or a 180. Idk
There was Tom’s name right across the hall. I gasped for air and nearly fainted. Images of Tom’s loud ass talk of aliens and hooter girls and star trek…..AHHHHHHHH! I had a mini nervous break down. Well I calmed down and accepted defeat. At least I still had a job right. Well that night I prayed about it. Tuesday was the office fart incident. When my boss told me that I was being moved to a location a couple spaces away from Tom, I didn’t care how much of my insides she was inhaling, I grew a kool-aid smile so big she probably thought I was high on drugs. I smiled so big she would have thought I was a starving third world child that just received a bag of rice. She probably had a very vivid image with all that odor hitting her face.
All in all, I was very happy to be moving away from Tom. He’s a really thoughtful person, but he is at Grandpa status. You really wanna be polite and listen to everything they have to say, but you know their brains have been working hard for quite a few decades and you wouldn’t trust driving a car that old, would you? Is that mean…
[P.S. Just so you get more a sense of what I’m talking about, watch what he sent me today.]
