The daily adventures and travails of one neurotic, klutzy, hungry, cynical college girl. Tune in for prizes! (offer void where prohibited. See office for details. Not responsible for lost articles.)
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Thursday, October 27, 2005
MY EYES ARE BLEEDING.
There is no way to transcribe the sound that's numbing my brain as I type this- suffice it to say, it's the shriek of terror and definitive end-of-childhood wailing that comes with a horror that cannot be spoken of, but only chillingly referenced to in a round-about way, so as not to trigger issues one has worked hard to bury in one's subconcious.
My coworker's girlfriend just ATE his FACE in front of me.
She just unhinged her JAW and gulped, leaving nothing but the silence that rings in your ears and the last remnants of my innocence swallowed along in her gullet.
MY EYES ARE BLEEDING.
I don't know why she did it, except she has beef with me for NO reason. I think she's one of those women who thinks all females are after their man and has to declare her property in willful and unnecessary violence.
Honey, I don't desire your boyfriend. He's so clearly trapped in-the-closet that he's finding a secret trap door that leads to a Narnia-like universe. I bet you stole his Jimmy Choos, shoved him in there, and ate the key that locks the door. Do you smell the fag hag pheromones on me, and panic that I'll lead your "boyfriend" to the man-on-man fantasy he mumbles about in bed? Even when I date gay men who haven't realized their gay yet, they happen to be of the hot variety, not the hobbits-of-the-Shire-who-are-graphically-inappropriate at work version.
I took his ribbing in stride, shaking my head in wise acceptance that he will one day wake up, sobbing that he never got to realize his full potential as a cake boy. All those final Cher concerts missed! (She's working on a new album, the lying, fabulous bitch/goddess) But you, for some odd reason, found in me a physical manifestation of the obstacle in your non-marriage that you want to destroy. It's not ME. It's his raging hormones for cock. Don't blame him. You might develop a penis from all this guerilla war-fare you're waging.
Who knew a 4 foot package who find me formidable enough to send a message on the first day we meet? I extended my hand in greeting, and you instead tongue-bathed a person I have to face daily now. Not that I've been able to look him in the face anymore. I might choke/gag/cry/twitch/snap a neural transmitter because he will only remind me of what happened today. I call this visual rape. You raped my eyes. Don't bother telling me, my eyes were asking for it. They WEREN'T.
I'm not exaggerating about this carnage. She really did go to town on the guy, who dind't even get to finish his introduction to me "This is Hol...(gurgling sound)" before she swallowed his tongue and grabbed his ass. I staggered back and faced front, never to smile genuinely again because the trauma in my eyes will always give me away.
2:06 PM
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