November 21, 2007

Dear my boss’ junk,


it’s been a little weird trying to figure out what to do with you over the past few months. It used to be that your possessor and i would talk down in my office, which did not involve him sitting, and which left me mostly ignorant of any details of your shape and size. i had no clue how you would distract me in the future. when my office switched from being far away from my boss to right next door, so that i could just walk over instead of calling, i learned about you. You are ridiculously oversized. you are obscene. you are, frequently, impossible not to look at, like it’s impossible not to look at a car accident in the middle of the road. i certainly do not enjoy the fact that i cannot avoid looking at the ferret in the trousers of someone whom i admire and love, someone whom i work for and who is forty years my senior. but i can’t seem to negotiate around you.  it doesn’t help matters that my boss sits so that his legs are wide open and he has jutted you out just as far as you will go. if he were a woman with huge boobs, he would be the type that wore deep plunging necklines showing tons and tons of cleavage, every day of the week. you’re just such a freak of nature that i can’t look away. not that i don’t respect what you’ve accomplished, growing to quite that mass. but, still. is this the time and place for such things?

so, come on, my boss’ junk. do you have to go on embarrassing me by forcing me to look at you every time i go in to my boss’ office to talk about seniors lunches? can’t you just tone it down a little? don’t you ever get cold?




2 Responses to “junk”

  1. d. pants Says:

    i don’t even know what to say. except…where’s a picture so i can judge for myself?

  2. O. Dear Says:

    Oh no!! Good thing I work in an office full of chicks…

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