n. The end of the week, especially the period from Friday evening through Sunday evening.
I’m in need of one of them thar things. ^^
Boss Lady remains on vacation but work rambles on.
Wedding Plans have hit Code Orange. High Alert, people. We’re down to the remaining few weeks. Last minute stuff is last-minuting.
The Good Man and I are still getting along, so that’s good. I am not a Bridezilla. He’s not a Groomzilla. Mainly, we’re just two adults gonna throw a nice party.
In an attempt to get through this long afternoon, I took one crisp dollar bill to the vending machine and procured one each plain Hershey Bar.
As I turned to walk back to my desk, the Office Nosy Nelly was standing there.
Of course she was.
As I walked back to my desk, she shouted down the hall “YOU CAN’T EAT THAT! YOU NEED PUT THAT BACK!”
“No,” I replied.
“WELL JUST EAT HALF. YOU CAN’T EAT ALL OF THAT! THAT’S TERRIBLE!”
“Your issue with chocolate is not my problem,” I said.
“LOOK, THERE’S NEAL AT THE END OF THE HALL, GIVE HIM THAT THING SO YOU DON’T EAT IT” (yes, she’s still shouting, trying to shame me).
I looked at Neal and said, “Sorry bro, you ain’t getting my chocolate.”
So why exactly do people think it’s their right to tell someone what they can and can’t eat?
Please present this blog entry to the jury. Thanks.
White Hot Magik
Seriously, I am surprised she is still alive. (At least if she had said it to me.)