holls! don't be sad!!!
19 Feb 2002 05:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cimoreneholls! cheer up. :( mwah! bugs! fishes! virtual roses and naked pippins!
in other news, one of the toilets has been neon green since i woke up this morning. i am afraid of it. i want to close the stall but i don't want to get that close to it.
in even more OT news, lisa has a marilyn monroe dress with a neck plunging down to here with a huge diamond brooch, that used to belong to her grandma. <--much envy <--likes to look glamorous, likes to dress up, just doesn't like to actually wear uncomfortable (read: glamorous) clothes
and cate is not mad at me, at least, even if she is still mad at lisa. *grimace of pain*
NEWS FROM THE WORLD OF WORK:
today i was innocently reading my linguistics text, standing up, while guarding the mexican art exhibit, when the museum director walked up with a lady who does some kind of story-hour thing and started giving a tour. i'm fixed in only one gallery, so had to stay in their line of sight. there's no reading when someone is in the gallery, so when a little old man somewhat resembling laurence olivier walked in, i was forced to actually do my StalkerGuard! Job and follow him around. so happily we wandered from the folk art to the museum art parts of the exhibit about three times before he finally sidled up to me and said suspiciously:
LOM [little old man]: are you following me?
okay. i knew, knew, KNEW since they first told us what we were supposed to do that i'd eventually be asked that.
me: *engaging smile* it's my job.
LOM: *still suspicious* what? --oh, it's your job?
me: *nods emphatically, still grinning like mad and non-threateningly*
LOM: *still looking at me* *eventually looks away* oh.
[hypothetical conversation added in my head:]
me: but of course, you're also really cute.
LOM: what?
me: i like that hat. is it a cab-driver hat?
LOM: uhm... well i...
me: does it bother you that i follow you? because i could stay further than two feet away.
LOM: i think i'm done, actually.
me: do you see those two women? you couldn't possibly get them out of here too, could you?
in other news, one of the toilets has been neon green since i woke up this morning. i am afraid of it. i want to close the stall but i don't want to get that close to it.
in even more OT news, lisa has a marilyn monroe dress with a neck plunging down to here with a huge diamond brooch, that used to belong to her grandma. <--much envy <--likes to look glamorous, likes to dress up, just doesn't like to actually wear uncomfortable (read: glamorous) clothes
and cate is not mad at me, at least, even if she is still mad at lisa. *grimace of pain*
NEWS FROM THE WORLD OF WORK:
today i was innocently reading my linguistics text, standing up, while guarding the mexican art exhibit, when the museum director walked up with a lady who does some kind of story-hour thing and started giving a tour. i'm fixed in only one gallery, so had to stay in their line of sight. there's no reading when someone is in the gallery, so when a little old man somewhat resembling laurence olivier walked in, i was forced to actually do my StalkerGuard! Job and follow him around. so happily we wandered from the folk art to the museum art parts of the exhibit about three times before he finally sidled up to me and said suspiciously:
LOM [little old man]: are you following me?
okay. i knew, knew, KNEW since they first told us what we were supposed to do that i'd eventually be asked that.
me: *engaging smile* it's my job.
LOM: *still suspicious* what? --oh, it's your job?
me: *nods emphatically, still grinning like mad and non-threateningly*
LOM: *still looking at me* *eventually looks away* oh.
[hypothetical conversation added in my head:]
me: but of course, you're also really cute.
LOM: what?
me: i like that hat. is it a cab-driver hat?
LOM: uhm... well i...
me: does it bother you that i follow you? because i could stay further than two feet away.
LOM: i think i'm done, actually.
me: do you see those two women? you couldn't possibly get them out of here too, could you?
