Long Story Short ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- meet Mary Entry #2 Do you smell something? Cause I do.... smells like a rotted, unwashed cunt...with a dirty sweat sock filled with moldy cheese stuffed up into it guess what it is? are you stumped? my coworker Mary!!! I don't get too close to her, usually. There's just no good reason. Nature sometimes puts big "DANGER" signs around things so innocent bystanders don't go stumbling into bad situations. Mary has about fifty "DANGER" signs around her - looks, personality, voice, she's got it goin' ON! And I have wicked awful allergies today - my nose is like a faucet, my brain feels squished in a vice, and my eyes won't stop tearing up. But I went over to our "file corner" to help her find a health plan summary and I walked into a wall of stink. My nose isn't even working properly - "my name is" has become "by dame is" - and yet it hit me like a ton of bricks. I jumped out of that corner as fast as I could. Ugh. My boss and my...other boss, I don't know what she is, are constantly joking about the way she smells. I have noticed that she has problems with her breath - it's beyond coffee breath and venturing into never-brushes-teeth. Only worse. You pick up her phone at her desk and it STINKS. Little wavy stink lines comes off of it, I can see them from over here. Ovah heyah. The body stink...well, someone who never showers and always misses the crevices would smell this bad after weeks, I suppose. It's not even BO-ey, it's more funkfest 2004. Just cheesy and moist, but not delicious. Her hair is almost the exact same color as her face. This doesn't sound too weird, except that her hair is an orangey-red color, kind of washed out and cut like an 8 year old boy's. She has beady eyes and a snub nose, and a downturned mouth. I just glanced over at her and she looks a lot like a farm animal of some sort...a cow, but not as pretty as a cow. A pig, but not as cute as a pig. Take any big, lumbering farm animal with a funny face, take away anything remotely attractive about it, and you've got Mary. She's mean too. Stomp-over-and-beat-you-with-her-meaty-fist mean. Her fingers are thick, swollen, pink sausages. The nails brittle, yellow, lined, pointed daggers. She'll come over to my desk to point at my computer screen, breathing thick puffs of rancid air into my space and stuffing her beefy digits too close to my face. You can hear her coming from a mile away. The woman is a mouth-breather, but not the type that just forgot to close their mouth. Or even the type that has a perpetual cold. She just heaves and grunts in place of normal breaths, snorting and snoring without seeming to notice the disparity between her breathing and everyone else's. It is horribly distracting, and when I first began this job I wondered if I would ever be able to eat food while she was around. She does not walk, she lumbers. She slowly, creakingly gets up from her chair and shuffles and stomps her way around the room. Slowly, slowly, never really lifting her feet off the ground, but moving them enough to make things shake. She's built like a football player. I bet she could successfully block for the Pats. The other team would run the other way before allowing any part of their bodies to touch her. She's not married, thank the Lord. Not that I don't thinks she deserves to be happy, but the thought of this woman procreating makes me nervous. Coworkers are hilarious, really. 3:42 p.m. - 2004-04-20 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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