Ick.
There is A Strange Man using the spare desk opposite mine to organise some travel connection or other. He smells as if he might be carrying twelve or so dirty ashtrays about his person.
I feel sick.
Carry on.
I feel sick.
Carry on.
posted by surly girl at 11:57 am
15 Comments:
The guy opposite me is having a poorly-argued domestic with his girlfriend. Its not very interesting nor nice.
I hate that when someone either stands beside you or sits and they stink. It turns my guts. Theres nothing worse.
The bloke behind me on the train last night was chewing gum the whole journey.
He sounded like a dog going for the Guinness book of records as Noisiest, Sloppiest Eater.
I know Strange Man well...I believe him to be sponsored by Marlboro !!!
When there is an old woman in front of you in the supermarket who smells of wee, at least it reminds you to do your pelvic floor exercises so you don't end up going the same way ...
Sorry. That is probably a bit too much information just after lunch.
*smack*
homer, get yerself on the email and tell me what it was, immediately!!
Did he smell as bad as your ex-boss's coat?
BTW - strongly suspect LC is making a meal out of you winding him up about GSE because he secretly wants you to arrange it. Kind of like the grown up version of a boy showing you how much he likes you by pulling your hair.
Would he notice if you just Fabrezed him a bit?
I have a solution in times like these devised while commuting on public transport: I carry a cherry chapstick. After applying it to my mouth, I then swipe it under my nostrils. Only delightful cherry scent after that.
The guy sat opposite me is extremely handsome. If I wasn't already taken, I think I might just wander over and cop a feel of his chunkies...
Oh damn, it's my reflection on the glass as I gaze out of the window.
Oh, I just love overhearing people's arguments at work.
There's nothing to warm the cockles of a spinster's heart like getting a little glimpse into an alternative universe of domestic drudgery, bitterness and boredom.
At least he's organising travel - preferably as far away as possible.
There's a couple of people I work with who're like that. Holding my breath only works for so long when they come over to ask me something. I have learned not to look up as they loom over me. One has frightfully hairy nostrils (mostly full) the other a pulsating vein just under her nose.
Oog... Aack... I've got the dry heaves...
hmph
that's all
You should've, very bluntly, sniffed about, looked around you and got up to open the window. Then again, he may have mistaken your actions for those of someone who'd just let rip a whiffy guff, or who'd caught a sniff of their own unwashed gusset-region. I've heard tell that these people do exist.
I love farting when there's nobody else in the office. It's a bit like Russian roulette in that you never know whether a colleague is about to walk in on you. Or you might let one go by accident and try desperately to get it to disperse, but there's always the 30 second rule for gusset entrapment.
That's about as exciting as my day gets.
Homer: I am not worried. Judging by the names others are known by, that would be tame.
ick- a pox on dirty ashtray smelling interlopers. BAH.
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