This afternoon I attended a three-hour class held in a training room at my company’s headquarters.
The class itself wasn’t directly applicable to my job itself, though it did address a specific associated aspect of my job. I’m being deliberately vague as it involves an area and aspect of my company's policies that it’s probably best I not discuss too much in-depth here.
Suffice to say that the class was actually pretty boring, and the only redeeming value I see it having is that taking it will add three hours of overtime to my next paycheck.
As I’ve mentioned before, headquarters is where most of the company’s attractive employees are likely to be found, and I generally refer to it as the home of the “beautiful people.”
One other aspect of headquarters is that it consists of a lot of really long hallways, which you invariably spend a good deal of time walking through, since the parking areas tend to be pretty far away from where you ultimately need to be.
In the course of my travels down a lengthy hallway I actually had an encounter with one of the beautiful people.
By “encounter” I mean that I was walking behind her looking at her ass. I wasn’t walking behind her for the explicit purpose of looking at her ass; it’s just that, since I was behind her, I had to do something with my time.
While it was a very nice ass indeed, I can’t really say that I enjoyed the experience of looking at it (okay; I did, but read on...), as, honestly, visual stimulation of that sort is pretty much the last thing I need. I mean, certainly I appreciated it, but I really don’t need the additional frustration such a sight brings into my life.
What actually made matters worse was the fact that the fabric of her thin, off-white pants made the outline of her dark-colored thong very clearly visible.
So there I was, walking this long hallway with the closest thing to a real-world equivalent to X-Ray Vision I’ve ever encountered, torn between being grateful that, under the circumstances, she did have such a nice ass and wishing that I had the force of will to look away.
As I failed to muster the will to look away, I found myself thinking all sorts of thoughts, most of which I won’t repeat here.
Among the less indecent thoughts I had, though, was an overwhelming curiosity as to what this woman was thinking when she’d gotten dressed. I’m not of the opinion that this was done in a deliberate attempt to draw attention to herself, but it seems to me that most women would know better than to pair dark underwear (whether of the thong variety or otherwise) with thin, light pants.
Ah well, I suppose we all have moments when we forget basic principles like that.
Despite the preponderance of beautiful people to be found at headquarters, the actual class was almost entirely devoid of them.
As is invariably the case with pretty much anything involving my company, the majority of people there were overweight, nerdy men.
There were a handful of women there, but only one of them was even slightly (and it was only very slightly) attractive. She did sit next to me, though, but my a quick ring scan showed her to be off the market.
Because the pickings there were so slim (in terms of quantity, anyway, since the actual “pickings” were mostly pretty far from slim), I was glad that Kathleen (who is excluded from being factored into the attractiveness equation) was also taking the class so that we could partner up for any “group” activities.
After all, if I can’t meet attractive, single women, I don’t really have that much interest in interacting with new people (Hey, it says right in my profile that I’m anti-social. “Meeting new people” is pretty close to the top of my list of things I don’t enjoy doing.).
As the class was breaking up the semi-attractive woman sitting next to me actually sparked up a conversation with me, as she had taken note when I mentioned, during the “introductions” portion of the class, that I had moved out here from Tucson. It seems that she and her husband had also moved here from Tucson.
It occurred to me that this was pretty much exactly the sort of thing that I always hope to have happen when I go out into the world: to meet a reasonably attractive woman with whom I share some sort of connection or interest, however tenuous, which can facilitate conversation.
The ideal circumstance would be for me to parlay that initial conversation into something slightly more in-depth, possibly continued over dinner.
However, while this is what I’m always on the look-out for when I’m out in the world, pretty much the only time this sort of thing happens is, like today, with a married woman, or with some guy, neither of which is anywhere near the ideal circumstance.
So in this case I opted to point out that Kathleen had also moved out here from Tucson and let the two of them have a conversation without much more involvement on my part.
Speaking of moving, this morning before I woke up I had a dream that I had quit my job and moved back home to Michigan.
In the dream, even as I was explaining my reasoning and motivation for this move to a friend, I was thinking, “Why? Why would I do something like this? I don’t want to go home! There isn't a chance a in hell that I'll find a job that pays anywhere near as much as my job in Virginia did, and besides that I was actually fairly happy there. Why would I leave, and if I were going to leave, why wouldn’t I go back to Tucson instead? Why, Jon, why?”
What made it particularly baffling was the fact that, as I was talking to my friend, one of those “real” winter storms that I’m always ranting about was going on outside, and though my flight had arrived safely I was now snowed in at the airport, as all of the roads were closed.
I was very relieved to wake and find that it was all just a dream…
Over the weekend a friend of mine, in response to last week’s ranting, sent me a link explaining the Homosexual Agenda.
Finally, the truth has been revealed!
For her eighteenth birthday, my niece Jourdan got herself a tattoo. Evidently I paid for half of it with the money I gave her.
There’s not much I can say, as I have three tattoos myself, and at least hers were done professionally (mine were done with a tattoo gun made from a Walkman motor, a pen, and a guitar string).
The weekend was largely uneventful, though for a while I thought that I might have to actually make use of one of my sick days for the first time in over two years. Ever since I quit drinking I almost never get sick, even though in the closed environment I work in I’m often exposed to all manner of communicable diseases.
Friday, though, found me feeling absolutely terrible, with a headache that made it hurt to think, and which brought about feelings of nausea as if in sympathy with the headache.
However, I woke up Saturday morning feeling none the worse for wear (although, oddly enough, I felt ravenously hungry), and it was back to business as usual.
Evidently there was some sort of sporting event yesterday. The World Series of Golf or something.
No, even I’m not enough of a nerd to not realize that it was the Super Bowl.
Naturally I didn’t watch it because my team wasn’t playing…wait, I don’t have a team. So why didn’t I watch it? Oh yeah, I remember: because it was a football game.
Every year the Super Bowl brings out such conflicting emotions it me. I can’t decide whether I don’t give a rat’s ass or if I don’t give a flying fuck.
Like anything having to do with sports, the Super Bowl is utterly incapable of capturing my attention. Until Saturday I hadn’t even known who was playing in it. As it stands, I’d have difficulty recalling who it was now. I believe the Patriots won, though I don’t remember who they beat.
Not that it matters, as it’s not as though the championship title really means much of anything after the game. I mean, when the new season starts it’s not as if they go into it being the defending champions in the way that a boxing champion is the reigning champ. Winning the game doesn’t even guarantee them a spot in the next one. Once the new season starts they’re just another team like any other, and their championship is yesterday’s news.
On the topic of the Patriots, I find it out that they’re so geographically undefined. They’re not like the Packers, or the Bears, who are affiliated with specific cities. I mean, “New England?” An entire region can lay claim to them. They don’t even break it down by state, let alone city. If I lived in Massachusetts I’d be pissed that I have to share my team with Rhode Island (Actually, I wouldn’t, since I really don’t give a shit about sports, but this is for rhetorical purposes).
Honestly, though, that might not be a bad idea. Maybe the NFL should pare the teams down a little, having teams that represent entire regions rather than specific cities. You could have teams like the “Pacific Northwest Rain,” or the “Northeastern Nor’easters.”
You could have the “Southwest Agaves.” The “Bible Belt Fanatics.” The “Beltway Insiders.”
And to make up for the lower number of teams, they could follow the more sensible boxing model and eliminate the whole “season” concept, having year round “bouts,” some for the title, others for the rights to compete in a title bout.
Of course, it would still be boring as shit, and I’d never watch it, but it’s just a thought.
As for the actual Super Bowl itself, I heard that the halftime show was rather boring. Obviously there wasn’t going to be the kind of buzz generated by last year’s (after all, I’d be willing to bet that Fox had snipers in position to take out anyone who even looked like he or she might expose a nipple), but I gather that even disregarding any sort of controversy, or lack thereof, the show was just boring.
Even the commercials, it seems, were less than inspired.
Ah well.
In any case, I guess that’s it for now.
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