Do not approach me on a rainy Monday before say, 12 noon.
To help my lumpy brain stay in the shape it’s meant to maintain, I read books on the train ride in to work.
After I get to work and plunk down, people who come from planets where there obviously are no other people stop by my desk to say hello.
My minimal response to their morning chirps causes them to look around to avoid I suppose having to leave and get to their own work.
They spy my latest read sitting on my left hand side (right hand side reserved for gods and monsters) and the exchange goes something like this:
What are you reading?
Oh, that.
Hmm, what’s it about? as they turn it over and scan the cover.
Sort of about love, sex and death. I always say this. They never question it.
You read the strangest books. I want to say: you mean the kind with words in them? Instead, I say:
mm hmm.
Well, see you later.
Yep.
I say that nobody should approach me before 12 noon but really with the possibility of this sort of lightning round chit chat, I'd prefer you not approach my cage at all.
TAa-淡蓝色长裙[1V/97M]
7 months ago
16 comments:
Everyone here knows that you can't talk to me before 11am. Before 11am = ogre. After 11am = sweet (or at least slightly less ogrish).
One of the things I like about my job is that most days, no one can speak to me before noon because I often don't go into work until noon.
Today I am up early--my alarm went off at 8:30--so I can meet a good friend for coffee at 10 a.m. I like her, but it feels like a real sacrifice. Am I really supposed to carry on a conversation before noon?
And somedays, noon is still too early to deal with other people.
To be honest, I want a sign that says, "Don't speak to me before 2009 (and well after that, depending on the outcome of the next election) unless you A) have something thoroughly worth hearing and B) shoes I wouldn't mind walking a mile in."
P.S. Even the word verification is taunting me with obscenities: the word I have to type to leave this comment is upsix, which I suppose is there to remind me that some sick people get up early and like it.
Slap the shit out of them with the book. Sounds like they might not notice anyway.
I agree with Andi. A good boppin' on the back of the head, and they'll get the hint that they're not wanted.
So in your case Chelene, it's less filling and then tastes great? Turns out that today, nobody could talk to me all day.
Holly, I hope your friend did all the talking. I would also agree to getting together but not to talking and everything. No way man.
When the folks start lining up just before the clock strikes 2009, reach over with a marker and change the sign to 2019.
My word verification should be upfivefiftyfive. I hate that.
Thelma & Louise - I mean Andi & Beth - I'll make sure I pick a book with some heft and really let em have it next time. They'll never know what hit em. I'll tell them though: Yes, it's a book. All words, no pictures.
Oh, the word verification is actually hehtt which reminds me of heft and hit.
I spent this morning at the bookstore looking for a new book to read, the kind with words in it. I just finished Augusten's Side Effects and was in the mood for more.
If someone asks me about what I am reading, I invariably give them too much information and the impression that people who read are crazy. I have never been on a train.
I have Side Effects queued up to read but I'm not quite there yet.
How about a book about trains next? Should I write one about a 40 minute ride one way from the burbs to the city centre? It could be all about how the people watching is limited except for those watching me. Nah, I wouldn't even read it.
Do not feed the Dale either...
Never EVER feed the Dale. The Dale eats continuously without assistance.
I came back to read your response to my comment that doesn't seem to be here and which I can no longer remember, but I'm sure it was the most hilarious thing I've written all day and I see it's not here therefore I think blogger ate it, because I know for a fact; you publish anything idiotic that may stumble out of my fingers. True
do people really speak to you on the train??
here in London, if anyone tried that there would be mass hysteria.... either that or regarded as a 'London Nutter'.
I love publishing idiocy, it's why I write coolcat. And if you wrote it and Blogger ate it, I hope it was in good taste.
Ziggy played guitar, Dale wrote unclearly. I meant to say that after I get to work, all these people bother me. I changed a few words up there to make it so.
I always assume that everyone is tapped into my brain when they're reading my little stories. But, I forget about the hundreds of voices already in residence taking up room.
All that having been said, I'm one of those approachable sorts although I don't mean to be. People do talk to me on the train to the point where I sometimes have to get up and change seats or even (train) cars. I'm a magnet.
Bring in a 'Spot the Dog' or a 'Fireman Sam' book.
Repeat your usual routine.
No one will bother you again...
Dale: You need to tell 'em to update their psychic chip so that they can keep up with you.
And can I be Louise?
Can we comment here before noon?
Maybe I'll try that approach God. Like I'm gonna mess with a direct suggestion from God? I don't think so. I have also been considering flicking a lighter in their general direction when they stop by. Someone has to be wearing something flammable.
If I could find the off button on these people, I'd just push it Beth. You can be Louise for sure.
Most people did comment before noon but I really like the way you held off until nearly noon Grant. I'm writing you a cheque.
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