I Am Hugely Successful. You Know, Sexually And That.
*Bang*
Colleague With Unusually Large Face brushes past me with unnecessary force.
A bit odd. I think nothing of it. I finish my cigarette and go inside. Curvy Girl comes with me.
I am troubled by recent show of force by Colleague With Unusually Large Face. It is out of nowhere.
I mock his frankly ridiculous Mekon head each day. He is generally good-natured about it.
Except.
Office conversation. Along the lines of what a big happy family we are. Attributes are given to each member of staff present. Grumpy But Fair Dad, Nurturing Mam, Scampish Brother are all accounted for.
From nowhere, Colleague With Unusually Large Face pipes up:
‘Yeah. And Tired is like that really awkward cousin who comes round now and then that no-one really likes but feel obliged to play with.’
Silence.
We all get back to work.
CWULF: Are we O.K?
Me: Fuck off.
Anyway. I am outside again. Talking to Curvy Girl. I am unreasonably cross about something. Fuck knows what.
She finds this funny.
This makes me more cross. I am not here to amuse.
She finds this even funnier. I give up, and go back to my job.
Lunchtime. CWULF says:
‘You know me and Curvy Girl are, you know, at it and that’
Bit boastful I think. And I’m sure Curvy Girl would burst with pride upon hearing your relationship described in such a manner.
Whatever. He then tells me quite a funny story about a spastic, so everything is fine.
Some days later. Again, smoking fags in car park. Me, Curvy Girl, CWULF and Strange Little Man I Would Like To Kill.
Curvy Girl is eating a Mars bar.
Me: I don’t fucking believe it.
She starts laughing.
CWULF: What? What?
Me: [ignoring him] It’s a fucking Mars bar. You are not normal.
Curvy Girl is near hysterical.
CWULF: WHAT?
Curvy Girl explains to CWULF that I had noticed her peculiar habit of eating her food 'at-a-time'. You know. Peas first. All of them. Then chips. All of them. Then…you get the picture. It absolutely horrified me for a number of reasons.
And that she is now eating her Mars bar by first nibbling-off the chocolate coating and then….again, you get the idea.
Me: Shitting Christ. How long does it take you to eat a bowl of muesli?
CWULF: [very quiet] I didn’t know that about you.
He gives me A Look and storms back into the building.
And it dawns on me. You know, his funny moods and that (I am this slow).
I have been fucking his girlfriend.
Of course. Well, there is no other explanation, is there? It’s not possible that we have the odd conversation, occasionally laugh, and notice peculiar things about each other and that is that. Oh no. Because Curvy Girl has breasts and – I suspect – a vagina.
There MUST be something darker taking place.
This has been a constant throughout my adult life and I would like it to stop now please. In the imaginations of the excitable, I have been fucking a grand total of about twenty women. Without any physical contact.
Colleague With Unusually Large Face brushes past me with unnecessary force.
A bit odd. I think nothing of it. I finish my cigarette and go inside. Curvy Girl comes with me.
I am troubled by recent show of force by Colleague With Unusually Large Face. It is out of nowhere.
I mock his frankly ridiculous Mekon head each day. He is generally good-natured about it.
Except.
Office conversation. Along the lines of what a big happy family we are. Attributes are given to each member of staff present. Grumpy But Fair Dad, Nurturing Mam, Scampish Brother are all accounted for.
From nowhere, Colleague With Unusually Large Face pipes up:
‘Yeah. And Tired is like that really awkward cousin who comes round now and then that no-one really likes but feel obliged to play with.’
Silence.
We all get back to work.
CWULF: Are we O.K?
Me: Fuck off.
Anyway. I am outside again. Talking to Curvy Girl. I am unreasonably cross about something. Fuck knows what.
She finds this funny.
This makes me more cross. I am not here to amuse.
She finds this even funnier. I give up, and go back to my job.
Lunchtime. CWULF says:
‘You know me and Curvy Girl are, you know, at it and that’
Bit boastful I think. And I’m sure Curvy Girl would burst with pride upon hearing your relationship described in such a manner.
Whatever. He then tells me quite a funny story about a spastic, so everything is fine.
Some days later. Again, smoking fags in car park. Me, Curvy Girl, CWULF and Strange Little Man I Would Like To Kill.
Curvy Girl is eating a Mars bar.
Me: I don’t fucking believe it.
She starts laughing.
CWULF: What? What?
Me: [ignoring him] It’s a fucking Mars bar. You are not normal.
Curvy Girl is near hysterical.
CWULF: WHAT?
Curvy Girl explains to CWULF that I had noticed her peculiar habit of eating her food 'at-a-time'. You know. Peas first. All of them. Then chips. All of them. Then…you get the picture. It absolutely horrified me for a number of reasons.
And that she is now eating her Mars bar by first nibbling-off the chocolate coating and then….again, you get the idea.
Me: Shitting Christ. How long does it take you to eat a bowl of muesli?
CWULF: [very quiet] I didn’t know that about you.
He gives me A Look and storms back into the building.
And it dawns on me. You know, his funny moods and that (I am this slow).
I have been fucking his girlfriend.
Of course. Well, there is no other explanation, is there? It’s not possible that we have the odd conversation, occasionally laugh, and notice peculiar things about each other and that is that. Oh no. Because Curvy Girl has breasts and – I suspect – a vagina.
There MUST be something darker taking place.
This has been a constant throughout my adult life and I would like it to stop now please. In the imaginations of the excitable, I have been fucking a grand total of about twenty women. Without any physical contact.
posted by Tired Dad at
10:45 pm
21 Comments:
Hehehehe... Dear me.
Doesn't it annoy you that tireddad.blogspot.com never updates and you can't have his url?
I thought it was yours TD that you messed up?
Oh and you've shagged me too of course. You remember that day when we chortled via email. Yeah. Shag fest.
Billygean: Hello. It does a bit. Never mind though.
DD: Of course. I had overlooked that. 21.
Hehe...I imagine this fellow, CWULF, might refer to you as a tedious cunt when you're not within earshot. Ahhhh, the irony!
Oh very good. Long-term reader I see. Ha-dee-ha.
I mean, thanks and that.
Wow..
thats exactly how i get fucked ..
without being touched..
Erm.
Don't know if that's good or bad.
I think thats bad....really
I didn't really know what she was on about, so though I would stay neutral.
Sheesh. Men with big faces. They're all the bloody same.
You may have to elabourate.
Am I being really thick this week?
Is getting touched a lot but not fucked worse i wonder?
And 21 TD? Is that what i think it is?
DD: First sentence: What? Is everyone speaking in code this week?
Second: Yes. It seems so. Not, of course, in the imagination of you or I, obviously. Erm.
I thought it was hands.
Most people grow out of that at the age of 15. Some, laddish 'oh-so-cool' testosterone pumped idiots do not. Unfortunately CWULF has not matured beyond the intelligence of a clever aubergine
Dark Knight: I know what you mean, but sadly this afflicts gentlemen right up until their mid-twenties. Possibly beyond. Grrr. It's just boring.
Amanda: I'm fairly sure it's hands. The rumour at High School (almost 20 years ago) was that the distance from the base of your wrist to the tip of your middle-finger was equal to - you know.
I have twelve-inch fingers. That should be made clear.
Look. I'm not not really sure about this. I think I also heard about your wrist-to-your-elbow, alhough that does seem unrealistic.
I don't know. Check Wikipedia. that's DEAD realiable.
I always eat like that. You should try it. It's ideal if you're slightly suspicious that someone's trying to poison you.
Mikey: Welcome.
I told an old girlfriend about the legend of - was it Marianne Faithful? - and the Mars Bar. She required a demonstration. I can no longer eat Mars Bars in case of stains and having to explain it all to the wife.
That is more than I require. Welcome back though.
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