Thursday, January 19, 2006

An Off-Color Day At The Office

Okay, the previous post still stands, but as is inevitable, the minute I start bitching about writers block, I find something I want to write about.

I have a slight cold. Not enough to keep me from functioning, but just enough to be a little phlegmy and achy. Every time I feel like this, I want to start making out with someone. And yes, Jethro would be the obvious choice. But I must be French somewhere in my ancestry because they are the only ones I can see getting turned on by mucus.

But to the point. I was feeling sick, so I went into the break room to make some tea. One of the Hot, Young Assistants was in there making lunch. I dribbled a hello to her, and was going about my business when another agent walks in and they start talking about a lie he told one of his clients. She kept insisting that it was a lie, and he kept insisting it was a matter of perspective just like, and I quote, "World War II." He said World War II was a matter of perspective and that whomever was victorious got to write history. Then he exhorted us to "remember that," as he made a pompous, sweeping exit.

I paused with my tea bag in hand, and said, "Yeah. The concentration camps were just a matter of perspective." The Hot, Young Assistant looked uncomfortable as I started making my tea rather violently. She told me he was a jerk and no one like him.

Now I cut guys a lot of slack. I'm no feminist. I give them the benefit of the doubt 9 times out of 10. No, well, more like 7 times out of 10. Not because I think they are superior, just because I think they tend to get a whole lot of shit that women have exempted themselves from.

But I don't mind calling this dude out. No doubt he was attempting to display a kind of macho, superior, brain power in front of "the ladies" - probably hoping that we'd assume his penis matched his intelligence. I guess we've all seen it. Some male person grasps a concept an inch or two deeper than scratching his balls and wiggling his opposable thumbs, and suddenly the gateways of fornication are open via the intellectual route. Or so he thinks. I suppose it's amusing, but I must admit that I chafe a little under any male's assumption that I'm not smart enough to know he's an idiot.

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