The Place Where I Work: Smut.
Today, Texas (used to be Lauren) says to me: you should write smut.
What she meant was that I should write romance novel-like books or create my own smut ‘zine. She feels my colorful word usage would be to my advantage. I looked at her a long while and slowly nodded. Then a light bulb- a red one (bow chica bow bow)lit above my head. Smut writing would be the best way to relay the latest goings on at the office because I’ll be so busy coming up with clever ways to convey lovemaking that I won’t have time to throw up in my mouth…and then on my desk…and then all over my pants.
Our story begins with Slutty Small Arm (formally known as Baby Arm Me) and her longing to be liked, loved, and okay with having one smaller arm. To cope with life’s obstacles she uses illegal substances and pathologically lies. She hates herself so much, she insists on only wearing short skirts and espadrilles-even though it is Fall. Fall is different from Summer- it is a season where espadrilles and short skirts without stockings/tights/leggings even, should not be worn. Slutty Small Arm can only chat with very few people at the place she works because of that whole being a pathological liar thing and also people like me who see her a mile away- meaning I get that she is a lousy person and hope for her sake she stays in her lane because I have no problem grabbing her by her normal sized arm and throwing her into traffic.
Slutty Small Arm also does the typical ‘I hate myself’ thing of being slutty. It’s one thing to roam and bone, but it’s a whole other thing to screw because you don’t like you- just came up with those off the dome=genius!
Where was I?
Slutty Small Arm has dipped inside the pudding cup- remember Pudding Man, the guy who always seems to be involved in a fierce game of pocket pool whenever I see him. He tries to out sexual harass me…and loses. He is all around a sleazy dude but has the creamiest chocolate skin…anyways he’s MARRIED. Married and showed Slutty Small Arm that there’s always room for his Jello…Pudding…Pop. Yes! Not having reached her full slut potential, Slutty Small Arm decides to allow Skanky Jew (formally known as Mark Darcy, remember him? I mentioned him awhile back. He’s an English Jew and immediately grossed me out by being sweaty way too often- he would bike to work in his work clothes, ugh. He is also quite sleazy so he fell off my radar-then there’s that time I stumbled upon him in the mail room…he thought he was alone…and he was scratching his ass for like 10 minutes…I think I blogged about it because I like to share my pain), leader of the Skanky Jew Crew (includes another ‘home sewn’ looking Jew and this Black dude that rolls with them).
So, last weekend somehow Slutty Small Arm and Skanky Jew got together and then…got.together. I am imagining a lot of sweat, hair, one small arm and regret. Before she could blink after he pulled his circumcised shaft of David out of her abused womanly hot pocket, he was rushing her out the door. He didn’t even offer her a cab ride home. I must admit I like his skeazy style- I mean really, what did she expect? No sleeping, no breakfast. You gotsta go!
How (WHY) do I know all of this? Another one of Slutty Small Arms flaws is telling people her business…and not frequenting my floor anymore. She was always around, lurking. Now, because the whole Skanky Jew Crew sits on this floor, she is like a memory. Perhaps people will finally realize we are TWO DIFFERENT people!
Having this knowledge has not changed my life nor has it been that entertaining. It has mostly made me sick and kind of want to cut out my lady parts and burn them to a crisp. Of course I perish those thoughts because that would be wasteful and I know there is not enough roofies in the WORLD that would have my lady haven of golden pleasure be defiled by that sweaty gefetlke (sp) fish. Whew.
As for throbbing man probes I'd like to infiltrate my lush feminine resistance, Clark Kent and I have been two ships in the night. I have been busy, actually busy at work and by the time I leave the office I am so focused on getting through the revolving doors I have no time too check in on m'boo. I tried to check in last Friday but instead when he looked at me to say 'bye' with that smile he smiles, I just began laughing goofily and pretty much ran through the revolving doors.
I.am.an.ass.
What she meant was that I should write romance novel-like books or create my own smut ‘zine. She feels my colorful word usage would be to my advantage. I looked at her a long while and slowly nodded. Then a light bulb- a red one (bow chica bow bow)lit above my head. Smut writing would be the best way to relay the latest goings on at the office because I’ll be so busy coming up with clever ways to convey lovemaking that I won’t have time to throw up in my mouth…and then on my desk…and then all over my pants.
Our story begins with Slutty Small Arm (formally known as Baby Arm Me) and her longing to be liked, loved, and okay with having one smaller arm. To cope with life’s obstacles she uses illegal substances and pathologically lies. She hates herself so much, she insists on only wearing short skirts and espadrilles-even though it is Fall. Fall is different from Summer- it is a season where espadrilles and short skirts without stockings/tights/leggings even, should not be worn. Slutty Small Arm can only chat with very few people at the place she works because of that whole being a pathological liar thing and also people like me who see her a mile away- meaning I get that she is a lousy person and hope for her sake she stays in her lane because I have no problem grabbing her by her normal sized arm and throwing her into traffic.
Slutty Small Arm also does the typical ‘I hate myself’ thing of being slutty. It’s one thing to roam and bone, but it’s a whole other thing to screw because you don’t like you- just came up with those off the dome=genius!
Where was I?
Slutty Small Arm has dipped inside the pudding cup- remember Pudding Man, the guy who always seems to be involved in a fierce game of pocket pool whenever I see him. He tries to out sexual harass me…and loses. He is all around a sleazy dude but has the creamiest chocolate skin…anyways he’s MARRIED. Married and showed Slutty Small Arm that there’s always room for his Jello…Pudding…Pop. Yes! Not having reached her full slut potential, Slutty Small Arm decides to allow Skanky Jew (formally known as Mark Darcy, remember him? I mentioned him awhile back. He’s an English Jew and immediately grossed me out by being sweaty way too often- he would bike to work in his work clothes, ugh. He is also quite sleazy so he fell off my radar-then there’s that time I stumbled upon him in the mail room…he thought he was alone…and he was scratching his ass for like 10 minutes…I think I blogged about it because I like to share my pain), leader of the Skanky Jew Crew (includes another ‘home sewn’ looking Jew and this Black dude that rolls with them).
So, last weekend somehow Slutty Small Arm and Skanky Jew got together and then…got.together. I am imagining a lot of sweat, hair, one small arm and regret. Before she could blink after he pulled his circumcised shaft of David out of her abused womanly hot pocket, he was rushing her out the door. He didn’t even offer her a cab ride home. I must admit I like his skeazy style- I mean really, what did she expect? No sleeping, no breakfast. You gotsta go!
How (WHY) do I know all of this? Another one of Slutty Small Arms flaws is telling people her business…and not frequenting my floor anymore. She was always around, lurking. Now, because the whole Skanky Jew Crew sits on this floor, she is like a memory. Perhaps people will finally realize we are TWO DIFFERENT people!
Having this knowledge has not changed my life nor has it been that entertaining. It has mostly made me sick and kind of want to cut out my lady parts and burn them to a crisp. Of course I perish those thoughts because that would be wasteful and I know there is not enough roofies in the WORLD that would have my lady haven of golden pleasure be defiled by that sweaty gefetlke (sp) fish. Whew.
As for throbbing man probes I'd like to infiltrate my lush feminine resistance, Clark Kent and I have been two ships in the night. I have been busy, actually busy at work and by the time I leave the office I am so focused on getting through the revolving doors I have no time too check in on m'boo. I tried to check in last Friday but instead when he looked at me to say 'bye' with that smile he smiles, I just began laughing goofily and pretty much ran through the revolving doors.
I.am.an.ass.
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