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apocalypsosDear asshat co-worker,
Okay, look, I've already shot you down multiple times now for the simple fact that you never seem to want to talk to me except to hit on me, and do so in a painfully obvious way that is less cute and more creepy. But tonight you pretty much guaranteed a permanent no out of me for several reasons:
1. No, everybody did not "leave me behind" during break. I am a grown fucking woman, goddamn it. If I want to sit at my table and read a magazine and eat my food from the Chinese order I got for everybody during break by myself, it's not because everybody wandered off on their own, for fuck's sake. It's because I want to be alone. If I didn't want to be left alone, I would get off my ass and go find other people. It's not like they're hiding. They're either out smoking or in the break room, idiot.
2. No, I do not want to talk to you right now. Was it confusing, the mouthful of shrimp and broccoli and the open Cosmo on the table in front of me? (Look, I had a reason for reading the magazine, all right? It's research for my NaNo novel, damn it.) What did you think, that eating my dinner and reading were just time-killers until someone, anyone showed up to talk to my lost lonely ass? You're lucky I didn't sarcastically say, "Oh, thank God you're here! I was so lonely," and then cling to you and cry. You know, if I could have kept a straight face through it all.
3. No, I do not want to write your life story. No, really. I'm perfectly capable of coming up with my own story ideas, thank you very much. And that's not even taking into consideration that I write science fiction, horror and fantasy, so unless you're secretly a werewolf or you've got superpowers you haven't told anyone about, I'm not interested. I'm sorry, did I say I'm not interested? I meant, GO AWAY.
4. Oh, you think I should sell my book? Maybe get an agent and contact a publisher? And then I could get published and make some money and get a new job? Oh, my God, why the hell didn't I think of that?! Getting someone to make copies of my novel and bind it together and sell it for legal tender in a place full of other bound copies of people's novels? BRILLIANT.
Wait, what am I talking about? Let's see ... I'm going to, I did, I have, I just might, and if I do I can guarantee I won't think of you when I do it all.
5. Consider yourself lucky. If you didn't stop talking down to me like I'm a poor naive woman who's not going to get anywhere without a man to tell her what to do, I was going to castrate you with my plastic fork.
Sincerely,
Me
*****
Of course, I spent the entire time thinking about what I usually think about in these situations, which is that inevitably when I complain about them later, someone always says, "Oh, maybe he was just trying to ask you out."
Have I ever mentioned how much I haaaaate that? Nobody ever says that like I'm free to express disinterest in dating the guy in question or being anywhere near him at all. Everybody always says that like I'm supposed to go, "Oh! Well, in that case, I'll just drop whatever it is I'm doing and focus completely on him with a smile on my face, regardless of the fact that the guy is a skeeve and has questionable hygiene and won't leave me alone when I'm reading and is dumber than a box of dead hamsters."
Maybe he just wanted to ask you out is a phrase that just grates across my nerves every time somebody says it. And people always say it like the guy's intentions are good. Maybe he's a creep. Maybe he's a sexist, racist, egotistical pig. Maybe he smacked around his last girlfriend. Maybe he hasn't brushed his teeth in weeks and starts fights with his co-workers.
Oh, but maybe he just wanted to ask me out!
You know what? I don't care if he wants to ask me out, ask me where I got my haircut, ask me why I'm sitting by my lonesome, or ask me if I'd like to see him juggle kittens. If I don't want to talk to him, look at him, or be within ten feet of him, I can firmly say that any request to date me is going to be answered with a solid, "Hell, no." And possibly with gunfire.
And I don't see why I have to be nice to a mean creepy fuckwit just because he intends to ask me my plans for Friday night. I'm going to be thirty this week, for fuck's sake. If some dicksmack I really hate wants to ask me who I'll be spending time with on Friday night, I reserve the right to look him straight in the eyes and say, "A bottle of vodka, a load of gay porn, and an empty space where you mistakenly think you're going to be."
... you know, sometimes I get the impression I'm not in a good mood these days. I wonder why.
Okay, look, I've already shot you down multiple times now for the simple fact that you never seem to want to talk to me except to hit on me, and do so in a painfully obvious way that is less cute and more creepy. But tonight you pretty much guaranteed a permanent no out of me for several reasons:
1. No, everybody did not "leave me behind" during break. I am a grown fucking woman, goddamn it. If I want to sit at my table and read a magazine and eat my food from the Chinese order I got for everybody during break by myself, it's not because everybody wandered off on their own, for fuck's sake. It's because I want to be alone. If I didn't want to be left alone, I would get off my ass and go find other people. It's not like they're hiding. They're either out smoking or in the break room, idiot.
2. No, I do not want to talk to you right now. Was it confusing, the mouthful of shrimp and broccoli and the open Cosmo on the table in front of me? (Look, I had a reason for reading the magazine, all right? It's research for my NaNo novel, damn it.) What did you think, that eating my dinner and reading were just time-killers until someone, anyone showed up to talk to my lost lonely ass? You're lucky I didn't sarcastically say, "Oh, thank God you're here! I was so lonely," and then cling to you and cry. You know, if I could have kept a straight face through it all.
3. No, I do not want to write your life story. No, really. I'm perfectly capable of coming up with my own story ideas, thank you very much. And that's not even taking into consideration that I write science fiction, horror and fantasy, so unless you're secretly a werewolf or you've got superpowers you haven't told anyone about, I'm not interested. I'm sorry, did I say I'm not interested? I meant, GO AWAY.
4. Oh, you think I should sell my book? Maybe get an agent and contact a publisher? And then I could get published and make some money and get a new job? Oh, my God, why the hell didn't I think of that?! Getting someone to make copies of my novel and bind it together and sell it for legal tender in a place full of other bound copies of people's novels? BRILLIANT.
Wait, what am I talking about? Let's see ... I'm going to, I did, I have, I just might, and if I do I can guarantee I won't think of you when I do it all.
5. Consider yourself lucky. If you didn't stop talking down to me like I'm a poor naive woman who's not going to get anywhere without a man to tell her what to do, I was going to castrate you with my plastic fork.
Sincerely,
Me
*****
Of course, I spent the entire time thinking about what I usually think about in these situations, which is that inevitably when I complain about them later, someone always says, "Oh, maybe he was just trying to ask you out."
Have I ever mentioned how much I haaaaate that? Nobody ever says that like I'm free to express disinterest in dating the guy in question or being anywhere near him at all. Everybody always says that like I'm supposed to go, "Oh! Well, in that case, I'll just drop whatever it is I'm doing and focus completely on him with a smile on my face, regardless of the fact that the guy is a skeeve and has questionable hygiene and won't leave me alone when I'm reading and is dumber than a box of dead hamsters."
Maybe he just wanted to ask you out is a phrase that just grates across my nerves every time somebody says it. And people always say it like the guy's intentions are good. Maybe he's a creep. Maybe he's a sexist, racist, egotistical pig. Maybe he smacked around his last girlfriend. Maybe he hasn't brushed his teeth in weeks and starts fights with his co-workers.
Oh, but maybe he just wanted to ask me out!
You know what? I don't care if he wants to ask me out, ask me where I got my haircut, ask me why I'm sitting by my lonesome, or ask me if I'd like to see him juggle kittens. If I don't want to talk to him, look at him, or be within ten feet of him, I can firmly say that any request to date me is going to be answered with a solid, "Hell, no." And possibly with gunfire.
And I don't see why I have to be nice to a mean creepy fuckwit just because he intends to ask me my plans for Friday night. I'm going to be thirty this week, for fuck's sake. If some dicksmack I really hate wants to ask me who I'll be spending time with on Friday night, I reserve the right to look him straight in the eyes and say, "A bottle of vodka, a load of gay porn, and an empty space where you mistakenly think you're going to be."
... you know, sometimes I get the impression I'm not in a good mood these days. I wonder why.
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no subject
Date: 2007-09-24 05:53 pm (UTC)LOL