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Yes, It's Monday before/after
Feeling good, finely tuned after a weekend of pot and apathy. (redundant- ree-duhn-dant'--see redundant)
Which is good, much to do this week, and I will have to be at the top of my game.
I need to get my taxes done tonight, do some work during the day, get evaluated tomorrow, and fly my ass back home on Wednsday.
Oh, I also need to somehow convince the sycophantic abino at work to cut down on her overwhelming olfactory effervesance.
No doubt about it: she reeks of cheap stripper perfume. She wears gallons of it, apparently derived from some industrial sized drum of the stuff.
It hits me like a wall as I enter the workplace. It strikes me so hard, my eyes and nose get irritated, and I say to myself, "Good God, what the hell IS that?"
It may be a cumulative effect, as I don't think she washes regularly.
A few days she did not wear it, and the musky smell of sweat and lizards pervaded from her like the vapor trails from a large and ungainly, strikingly annoying, albino jumbo jet.
She keeps, among many other pets, iguanas and chameleons.
And the scent overpowers all who enter my part of the office. It seeps over the cubie walls, and chokes like mustard gas, making my lungs bleed, and drifting to the lowest point.
Its so bad that eventually, after it becomes clear to your senses that you will hang out in this unholy smell, your nose will mercifully turn off. However, the odor is so palpable that you can taste, and feel it. You always know its still in the air.
And they already talked to her about wearing the same suit every single day...and somehow I have to be the point man of this endeavour.
The struggle is to come at her in a way that will not make her cry.
And murder is right out of the question.
Maybe I'll wait until I get back from the wedding to say something.
I try to find the good in people. I try to find something special about everyone. Somehow, what's special about her does not counterbalance the effect of her presence.
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