For anyone that has been following my Facebook page lately, you know that hugging has been a recurring theme. Sassy Pants and NoEyebrow Betty (yeah, I did it, I just changed up someone's blog name) have been mocking me about my lack of desire to hug the people of The Palace. It's not that I hate hugging, I just don't feel like I need to hug random people all the time...or people that are part of my social circle. When I want to hug you, you'll know. I'll come willingly and I will affectionately hug you. Sometimes it will be a full frontal hug, like, our boobs touch and everything, or maybe it is just a arm circle, pat-pat on the back hug. I don't know, whatever I feel like. Or, if you are Shark Bait, I'll hug you like spandex on a fat girl...unless I'm mad at him and then I'll hug him like he has cooties and that it is sucking the life from me to touch him. Hey, it happens. Doesn't mean I don't love him, just means I don't want to touch him at that moment. I decide. It's my deal, or so I thought.
I used to be in charge of hug distribution until recently when Sassy Pants has taken it upon herself to attack hug me in the hallway, or right outside the bathroom. I'm not just talking a surprise quick embrace. No. This hug is like in Dirty Dancing when Baby is up on the stage and Johnny is down on the floor and she goes running into his arms and he catches her. Except, in my scenario, Baby comes running at me and does a death grip like someone that is afraid of falling to the point where air has actually been blocked from leaving my body. Like, her boobs were pressed so tightly against my chest that is possible that the padding in my bra pushed my boobs up inside my body cavity. Like my boobs are now inverted. That's how hard. And then she won't let go. Getting her off me is like trying to pry an ice cream cone out of a fat kids hands at the county fair. I'm just lucky I got out of this hug without any lick marks. I'm not sure what flavor of ice cream I'd be, but it'd be bitter. No cherry on top either. That topping was discontinued years ago.
I guess what I'm saying is, this hug thing has kind of gotten out of control. I walk around at work and everyone thinks it's great sport to taunt me and offer up a hug. If there was something akin to bug spray that repelled hugs, I'd buy it. "Hug Spray - keep those annoying people off you! Now in two scents: flatulence an gingivitis." Just saying, it could help a lot of people out. I could just let my hygiene go and I guess that would do, but I really don't want to be scummy.
Anyway, today I think the hug thing reached a new level of domination that I had not anticipated. I was standing there talking to Sassy Pants and the BootBitches Mascot and I found myself getting all wound up and I realized all I wanted to do was shove my head in a bag of cookies and free feed. Then, I heard the theme song from Jaws in my head and felt one of the sharks bumping the boat. Mother Trucker. It's early. This is unexpected. I went to the bathroom and assessed the situation. Sharknado was today's feature film. Dammit. I returned to my desk where my pals were still hanging out. I shared the news with them an the next thing I know, they are both pulling money out of their pockets and throwing it at me, "here, take this, get some chocolate!" Sassy and the Mascot started talking to each other like I wasn't even there, "Do you have any money? Wait, yeah, I have some, here, I know she likes those Grandma's cookies in the vending machine, shit, how much do we have? Here, let's give her this..." I looked at them. "Hey, I'm not taking your money, take it back. I don't need this." They both had fear in their eyes, but at the same time, stubborn determination. "NO, you take it! We don't need it." I said, "It isn't my money, I'm not keeping it." They both refused, backed away and said, "We won't take it back, it's yours now, you keep that as emergency money. We're not taking it back." And with that, they scattered. They left me with $2.50. I just stood there, in disbelief.
It wasn't long and Sassy Pants is sending me instant messages, "I have cookies at my desk. They are gluten free, but they are good. Come get some." I told her I wasn't taking her cookies, but she would not stop, she kept messaging me over and over begging me to come get her cookies (I know, if you know Sassy Pants, it sounds dirty, but she really had actual cookies, the kind you eat....and can buy at the store...that come in a box...from the store...snicker doodles). I finally walked over to her desk and told her I wasn't taking her cookies. She opened them and had me try one. I said thanks and took two to go. She looked at me, all hurt, "you can't just leave with two cookies, look, I know where you are coming from, I've been there the last couple of days, sometimes a girl needs cookies." And that is when it hit me. This was her fault! This whole thing with shark week coming early...it was all her doing! I'm always on schedule, ALWAYS. When she hugged me last week, twice, and with violent pressure, her uterus took control, became the alpha and pulled me onto her shark week schedule. YOU BITCH. I wasn't prepared for shark week TODAY and through the cruelty of nature, her uterus had re-aligned my schedule. And, I am the office alpha. My uterus decides. My uterus has a gravitational pull stronger than the moon itself, but through repeated, prolonged hugging, the stars had re-aligned. I mean, I don't even know what the app on my phone is going to think when I tell it I am three days early! This is epic. EPIC.
So, when I tell you the dangers of hugging, you all laugh. You think it's cute. Well, sure, it's all fun and games until YOU have a cold, some sort of hug rash, a stray hair in your mouth from a fluffy-haired hugger, inverted boobs or a uterus overtaken by terrorist hormones. Let's see you laugh then, bitches! All I can say, with certainty, is that there will be absolutely NO hugging unless an emergency situation presents itself and even then, precautions will be taken. And just so you know, my uterus is pissed, NO ONE bosses it around.
As John Maclaine says, "Yippie ki ya Mother Truckers....yippie ki-ya." Battle cry has been issued.
I used to be in charge of hug distribution until recently when Sassy Pants has taken it upon herself to attack hug me in the hallway, or right outside the bathroom. I'm not just talking a surprise quick embrace. No. This hug is like in Dirty Dancing when Baby is up on the stage and Johnny is down on the floor and she goes running into his arms and he catches her. Except, in my scenario, Baby comes running at me and does a death grip like someone that is afraid of falling to the point where air has actually been blocked from leaving my body. Like, her boobs were pressed so tightly against my chest that is possible that the padding in my bra pushed my boobs up inside my body cavity. Like my boobs are now inverted. That's how hard. And then she won't let go. Getting her off me is like trying to pry an ice cream cone out of a fat kids hands at the county fair. I'm just lucky I got out of this hug without any lick marks. I'm not sure what flavor of ice cream I'd be, but it'd be bitter. No cherry on top either. That topping was discontinued years ago.
I guess what I'm saying is, this hug thing has kind of gotten out of control. I walk around at work and everyone thinks it's great sport to taunt me and offer up a hug. If there was something akin to bug spray that repelled hugs, I'd buy it. "Hug Spray - keep those annoying people off you! Now in two scents: flatulence an gingivitis." Just saying, it could help a lot of people out. I could just let my hygiene go and I guess that would do, but I really don't want to be scummy.
Anyway, today I think the hug thing reached a new level of domination that I had not anticipated. I was standing there talking to Sassy Pants and the BootBitches Mascot and I found myself getting all wound up and I realized all I wanted to do was shove my head in a bag of cookies and free feed. Then, I heard the theme song from Jaws in my head and felt one of the sharks bumping the boat. Mother Trucker. It's early. This is unexpected. I went to the bathroom and assessed the situation. Sharknado was today's feature film. Dammit. I returned to my desk where my pals were still hanging out. I shared the news with them an the next thing I know, they are both pulling money out of their pockets and throwing it at me, "here, take this, get some chocolate!" Sassy and the Mascot started talking to each other like I wasn't even there, "Do you have any money? Wait, yeah, I have some, here, I know she likes those Grandma's cookies in the vending machine, shit, how much do we have? Here, let's give her this..." I looked at them. "Hey, I'm not taking your money, take it back. I don't need this." They both had fear in their eyes, but at the same time, stubborn determination. "NO, you take it! We don't need it." I said, "It isn't my money, I'm not keeping it." They both refused, backed away and said, "We won't take it back, it's yours now, you keep that as emergency money. We're not taking it back." And with that, they scattered. They left me with $2.50. I just stood there, in disbelief.
It wasn't long and Sassy Pants is sending me instant messages, "I have cookies at my desk. They are gluten free, but they are good. Come get some." I told her I wasn't taking her cookies, but she would not stop, she kept messaging me over and over begging me to come get her cookies (I know, if you know Sassy Pants, it sounds dirty, but she really had actual cookies, the kind you eat....and can buy at the store...that come in a box...from the store...snicker doodles). I finally walked over to her desk and told her I wasn't taking her cookies. She opened them and had me try one. I said thanks and took two to go. She looked at me, all hurt, "you can't just leave with two cookies, look, I know where you are coming from, I've been there the last couple of days, sometimes a girl needs cookies." And that is when it hit me. This was her fault! This whole thing with shark week coming early...it was all her doing! I'm always on schedule, ALWAYS. When she hugged me last week, twice, and with violent pressure, her uterus took control, became the alpha and pulled me onto her shark week schedule. YOU BITCH. I wasn't prepared for shark week TODAY and through the cruelty of nature, her uterus had re-aligned my schedule. And, I am the office alpha. My uterus decides. My uterus has a gravitational pull stronger than the moon itself, but through repeated, prolonged hugging, the stars had re-aligned. I mean, I don't even know what the app on my phone is going to think when I tell it I am three days early! This is epic. EPIC.
So, when I tell you the dangers of hugging, you all laugh. You think it's cute. Well, sure, it's all fun and games until YOU have a cold, some sort of hug rash, a stray hair in your mouth from a fluffy-haired hugger, inverted boobs or a uterus overtaken by terrorist hormones. Let's see you laugh then, bitches! All I can say, with certainty, is that there will be absolutely NO hugging unless an emergency situation presents itself and even then, precautions will be taken. And just so you know, my uterus is pissed, NO ONE bosses it around.
As John Maclaine says, "Yippie ki ya Mother Truckers....yippie ki-ya." Battle cry has been issued.
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