He Could Rest His Beer Gut On My Back As He Bungs The Stink Hole
I'm working with boguns, let's be truthful. (Not For Profit is like that, either fat or stupid, generally unattractive, it is like a repository for the lame.) They are the types to say, I’m not racist, but… I always want to say at that point, Well stop speaking, for goodness sake. For the sake of goodness. From experience, the standard issue racist remark usually follows. They didn't, but you know the type.
(28.10.2014 - Actually, I misjudged them. (the racist remark business was way off) My usually impeccable judgment was way off. I guess it was first day nerves. Yes, even me. They are nice... sometimes it is easy to mistake the salt of the earth types for boguns.)
Work is okay, they're okay, it is nice to get a distraction from the mundanity of it all. Not that I am ever bored, but I'm not sure we are built to do nothing. Distraction is good.
Nick came and had lunch with me today, we sat outside on the footpath under the oversized umbrellas. "Welcome back to the real world, babe," said Nick.
"OMG! So real, it hurts."
"It's meant to," said Nick. "How would know you're alive, otherwise."
"I could be smoking pot in the garden with the sun on my face that would make me feel just as alive."
"You could be in a factory gluing artificial limbs."
"Oh I am, mate, I am."
"Don't choke on your silver spoon, buddy," said Nick.
"Get fucked."
"You don't work any where near as hard as other people do..."
"Yeah, but that is my own doing, good work, not luck of birth." I knew Nick was talking about himself.
"Oh, come on."
"Come on, bullshit, I worked hard to get into the position I am in today."
"So are you saying that I don't work hard?" I knew it.
"I thought we were talking about me?"
"Always taking about you," said Nick.
"No, but in this case we were."
"We always are."
Nick is a little jealous of my easy going working life style, but, you know, there is nothing stopping him. But, criticism is what best friends are for. If you can’t take it from them, you won’t be able to take it from any one.
“You know, I walked in there the first day to be greeted with rows of desks with people staring at computer monitors, you know like…”
Nick pulled a spastic face.
“Not even so interesting.”
He laughed. “Oh, it must be nice to be Josh Grant.”
The sun shone. We drank coffee. I offered Nick a cigarette, he accepted. I always offer him cigarettes when I am smoking and he has quit.
“You are a bastard,” he said. He held the cigarette in the air and blew smoke out his nose as he spoke, resembling a cloud against the blue sky.
“Welcome back, buddy.”
He shook his head. I must quit again. I always get nervous when I start a new role and I find cigarettes comforting as I approach the office on the first day.
“How many days to go?” asked Nick.
“A week. This week and next week.”
“Any thing worth looking at in the office.”
“A little girlie blonde twink.”
He snorted through his nose. “She can die with her secret, sweet heart.”
“A cute thirty something analyst, who is handsome and softly spoken and has a great arse.”
“You always go for the bottoms,” said Nick
“I never said he…”
“Oh please.”
“A fat daddy IT guy with a beer gut and an unhappy marriage.” I made the unhappy marriage bit up, what the hell.
“Now you are talking my wheelhouse.”
“Yeah, I thought you’d like him. Old, ugly and married.”
“Stop it. Stop it!” He fanned himself with two flat palms. “He could do me raw...”
“You don’t still…”
Nick waved his hand at me. “No grandma… but he could rest his beer gut on my back as he bungs the stink hole.”
I tried not to get a mental picture of that. Nick’s taste in men was beyond me. Still, it meant we never competed for trade.
“Do you want more coffee?”
“Sure. Another cappuccino.”
(28.10.2014 - Actually, I misjudged them. (the racist remark business was way off) My usually impeccable judgment was way off. I guess it was first day nerves. Yes, even me. They are nice... sometimes it is easy to mistake the salt of the earth types for boguns.)
Work is okay, they're okay, it is nice to get a distraction from the mundanity of it all. Not that I am ever bored, but I'm not sure we are built to do nothing. Distraction is good.
Nick came and had lunch with me today, we sat outside on the footpath under the oversized umbrellas. "Welcome back to the real world, babe," said Nick.
"OMG! So real, it hurts."
"It's meant to," said Nick. "How would know you're alive, otherwise."
"I could be smoking pot in the garden with the sun on my face that would make me feel just as alive."
"You could be in a factory gluing artificial limbs."
"Oh I am, mate, I am."
"Don't choke on your silver spoon, buddy," said Nick.
"Get fucked."
"You don't work any where near as hard as other people do..."
"Yeah, but that is my own doing, good work, not luck of birth." I knew Nick was talking about himself.
"Oh, come on."
"Come on, bullshit, I worked hard to get into the position I am in today."
"So are you saying that I don't work hard?" I knew it.
"I thought we were talking about me?"
"Always taking about you," said Nick.
"No, but in this case we were."
"We always are."
Nick is a little jealous of my easy going working life style, but, you know, there is nothing stopping him. But, criticism is what best friends are for. If you can’t take it from them, you won’t be able to take it from any one.
“You know, I walked in there the first day to be greeted with rows of desks with people staring at computer monitors, you know like…”
Nick pulled a spastic face.
“Not even so interesting.”
He laughed. “Oh, it must be nice to be Josh Grant.”
The sun shone. We drank coffee. I offered Nick a cigarette, he accepted. I always offer him cigarettes when I am smoking and he has quit.
“You are a bastard,” he said. He held the cigarette in the air and blew smoke out his nose as he spoke, resembling a cloud against the blue sky.
“Welcome back, buddy.”
He shook his head. I must quit again. I always get nervous when I start a new role and I find cigarettes comforting as I approach the office on the first day.
“How many days to go?” asked Nick.
“A week. This week and next week.”
“Any thing worth looking at in the office.”
“A little girlie blonde twink.”
He snorted through his nose. “She can die with her secret, sweet heart.”
“A cute thirty something analyst, who is handsome and softly spoken and has a great arse.”
“You always go for the bottoms,” said Nick
“I never said he…”
“Oh please.”
“A fat daddy IT guy with a beer gut and an unhappy marriage.” I made the unhappy marriage bit up, what the hell.
“Now you are talking my wheelhouse.”
“Yeah, I thought you’d like him. Old, ugly and married.”
“Stop it. Stop it!” He fanned himself with two flat palms. “He could do me raw...”
“You don’t still…”
Nick waved his hand at me. “No grandma… but he could rest his beer gut on my back as he bungs the stink hole.”
I tried not to get a mental picture of that. Nick’s taste in men was beyond me. Still, it meant we never competed for trade.
“Do you want more coffee?”
“Sure. Another cappuccino.”
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