|Whistling in the Dark
||[Mar. 14th, 2011|02:17 pm]
Which is a joke, really, because for starters, I'm not a big whistler. There is a 30% chance that when I try to whistle, nothing will come out. And when I do manage it -- it's okay, as whistles go...but I'm a one-trick pony. One note, one volume. When I flub it, if I'm lucky, I will just remain noiseless. If I am unlucky, an errant salivary duct will try to fill the void. I've had one removed...and for some reason it's encouraged the others to take up acrobatics. At odd times, I'll be talking and SQUIRT...it's like one of them has armed themselves with a super soaker and taken umbrage at the salivary ducts on the other side. |
Which, on the plus side, is almost always just something that happens inside my mouth. Which would be perfect. Except that, of course, I'm an oversharer. So, first it startles me...which probably only I notice...and then I start explaining myself...which frankly, winds up being MORE embarrassing than if I just let fly and sprayed a complete stranger with spit.
Plus, trust me, if I'm in the dark, I'm so not going to whistle. That's EXACTLY how the zombies find you.
(This momentary diversion and the title come from the fact that my work e-mail is down and in trying to fix it, they've relaunched it. And it's come back...but empty. And they're working on it and I'm supposed to be patient and it might take quite some time to reload since I'm an IDIOT and clearly a SLACKER since there are nearly a 1000 e-mails in there that need to be attended to. And while I've threatened to erase it all and start with a clean slate...I'm not really sure I was going to make good on that threat.)
Sigh. Don't look. Try not to look. Augh. Still empty!
Benign tumor. Now the rest of them are all "hey, look at me, I'm doing my job, I'm cool, I'm staying in shape, whoo-hoo, healthy as a horse. Don't let the bad man come back with the scalpel...please?"
2011-03-14 06:44 pm (UTC)
Be careful what you wish for
The day my CFO asked for a lighter to take care of his inbox just happened to be the day he caught the toaster oven on fire in the breakroom.
I told him he missed.
It's called gleeking, that squirting thing.
My ex-husband could do it on purpose. Charming little parlor trick, really.
2011-03-14 08:42 pm (UTC)
Re-posted to fix very bad error...
At one of my first "real" jobs, which also happened to be in downtown Washington, D.C. I didn't have my own office or even a cubicle, I shared a room with several other worker bees. Not a big deal, except the guy who sat behind me would make the grossest "squishy" noises with
my his mouth. All day long. It nearly drove me crazy. The only way I could cope was wearing earphones and playing music.
One day I happened to turn around to say something to someone else, and I glanced him just in time to see one of his salivary glands make a "lovely" fountain-like stream out of his mouth. Just... vile. And one of those things where you want to ask the person, "Do you have ANY idea how nasty that behavior is? Really??" He had bad teeth, too.
"At odd times, I'll be talking and SQUIRT..."
I shall actually be polite and spare you the printed evidence of where my mind went with this ...
"Plus, trust me, if I'm in the dark, I'm so not going to whistle. That's EXACTLY how the zombies find you. "
EXCELLENT call there
like I said ... I was being polite ... for a change
it happens now and again
Edited at 2011-03-15 03:00 pm (UTC)