At work. I’ve done at least four tiny little farts in the past hour. They sound like bubble wrap popping. They smell pungent. Really bad. I keep thinking that someone’s gonna call me out, but nobody has. I’m not sure how to cope with the situation. Every time it’s happened I’ve darted my eyes about, then stared straight ahead in the hopes that nobody would notice. Realising that people probably know already and they’re likely just being polite is not enough to stave off embarrassment. What to do? The smart money is on just going to the bathroom. If there’s enough gas to shoot out in little bullets, there’s probably enough for a full load. It doesn’t feel like there is though. What if I sit down then spend a couple of minutes waiting on the seat for no result? Wait, my worst case scenario is not working for a few. That’s a low stakes solution. Let’s see how it goes…
*** MUSICAL INTERLUDE. SOMETHING WITH BRASS***
Welp. Problem solved. Now I’ve gotta solve the issue of having nothing interesting to talk about. With a grind towards Christmas of work, Pawdcast work, lather, rinse, repeat, I’m running out of compelling plot developments in my life. What else has been knocking around my skull?
Oh. There was recently a retread of Baby It’s Cold Outside with lyrics altered to sound less creepy. I get the intent, but In this new scenario I don’t understand why she hasn’t left after the third line or so. It feels like she’s overstaying her welcome. If you’ve already been wished a safe trip home, why haven’t you left? I was fine with you going, there was no issue. The longer you’re tarrying and making excuses for leaving, the more I’ll start to read into the endless minutiae of the evening.
Was there something I said that made you uncomfortable? Did I make a big dick of myself without my knowledge? Have I offended you, but you don’t have the emotional energy to break down how my behaviour was problematic, so you’re cushioning your departure as preemptive de-escalation? I get all the reasons why you’d want to leave. Your bed is comfy. You’re tired. You’ve got shit to do tomorrow. You just want to be wrapped up all warm, eating garlic bread and marathoning a Netflix Original you can ignore without another human in your vicinity. Hell, I don’t even want to be around me right now, or you for that matter. Especially after this ignominious display of passive-aggressive bullshit. Fuck off, why are we even friends?
Maybe I’ve been sequestered away from people for good reason.