"Why's your neck all red?" my co-worker Jaime asked.

"I don't know.  I think I scratched it."  I replied.

"Wow.  Its RED."  he said.

So I pawed at it some more.

"Now I'm all paranoid.  Its all hot.  I don't know why."

Another co-worker, Debbie, chimed in, "YEAH, its REALLY RED."  she said.

I let my head loll to my chest.

"I'm a redneck."  I said.

She paused and looked at me.

"You so are not.  You're the....anti-redneck."  she said.

Which has to be the nicest thing anyone has said to me in the last two months.  I suppose that's a rather sad statement.

In other news, some girl left a note on my desk that read, 'HI!  I missed you on friday!' with a smiley face drawn next to it.  No one has claimed responsibility.

I think it was the buck-toothed cleaning girl I'm nice to.  Everyone else ignores the cleaning people like they're not in the room.  I hate that.  They are people, too.  Just because they empty our garbage doesn't mean they're beneath our notice.  Its just a job, not an identity.  And everyone is at different points in their life, with different circumstances and different priorities.  As long as she's happy, I see nothing wrong, nor do I uphold myslef superior to others simply on the basis of my employment by my corporate overlords.  Its petty, and I want nothing to do with it.

Still, I wondered about it.  She seems to be avoiding me now, which is funny, as I have said and done nothing.  I did breifly consider asking around about it, and then the odd thought of reporting her crossed my mind, but I have no reason to do either, besides boredom.

"Sexual harassment, I say!"

Maybe it was a power thing on my part, the thought of reporting her.  I don't really care for power too much.  I like it in the corporate sense of being able to actualize and know whats going on in the creeky machinery of capitalism, and i.e. knowing if your job is in danger and why, however, I do well know that you can live a better life not knowing that crap.

She, exposing her self, even anonymously, must feel naked on that flimsy tree branch.  Hence the avoidance.  Which is fine.  Not much to talk to, not much to look at.  Nice girl, though.  I guess. For all I know, she might be a rabid stalker, and Audrey will have to square off with her, in a sawdust pit showdown style catfight.  Or maybe I just need to date a chick that can kick some ass.  After all, Audrey weighs a buck ten soaking wet.  And she's devoid of the devious mean streak that every other girl I've dated has owned. 

Still, it would be interesting.  Maybe through a vat of jello in the mix.  Green jello. And a few weasels for spectacle's sake. 

In still other news, I thought of the time I got stuck at the top of my dorm while high on acid, as the girl I was seeing wouldn't come down off the roof through the trap door in the elevator maintenance room.   Too dark and scary.  Lots of bad noise and a constricting door.  She was high, too. 

Why I thought of it, I do not know.

I suppose that's a story for another time.