Oh, that explains the pole in the big conference room...

Okay, so I just got my face delightfully cracked. I went up to one of my point-people for gossip and all-things-catty here at hell, uh, work, to ask something about the new chick, who dresses kind of like a barely-legal nymphette. Today’s ensemble, while subdued in comparison to other get-ups of note, is still ‘suspect’ (One outfit prompted a gay male co-worker to say, “I’m distracted by her breasts – I don’t how all the straight guys are getting any work done!”). Today, she’s dressed sort of like a back-up dancer from that 80’s “Hey Mickey” video in a pink flared mini and a white sleeveless top with a plunging neckline, that doesn’t cover her fetching gang tat. I actually like her; I just become super-prudish and feel somewhat guilty in her presence because of her over-whelming sexuality and distracting breasts. They are mesmerizing. They pull your eyes in like a fleshy whirlpool.

So, today, feeling giddy because the Little Fatman is away and I have a day planned of shirking my duties, I went up to my gossip-friendly co-worker and sarcastically asked, thinking I was going to be funny, “What’s the deal, does [Breasty] moonlight as a hooker?” and the reply came, totally deadpanned, “No, she’s a dancer.” Air-quotes implied. This has made my day! I don’t know why. But it answers a lot of questions and puts my inner-prude, ‘Emily’, at ease. Because ‘Emily’ was going to take ‘Breasty’ aside and suggest maybe not wearing the 2-inch eyelashes or the scrotum-stomping stilettos. But now ‘Emily’ and I feel much better that she’s not just a ‘bad’ dresser. In fact, I’m relieved that 'Breasty’ is a dancer and not a hooker. It’s just my opinion that the difference between the two is monumental. If some dumbass wants to pay you a coupla G’s just to look at your vertical smile, then so be it. Everybody’s happy and equally degraded. However, if you’re a hooker, you’ve got to “do it” for the cash, and only a good narcotic addiction can off-set that damage.

Then I became a little confused because, don’t dancers make loadsa money? Why does she need the soul-sucking day job? Then I remembered…health benefits! It's the reason I whore myself out from 9-ish-to-5:30. Now, I’m very excited about this year’s company Holiday party! What with my mediocre emcee skills and a resident stripper; we could go with a festive burlesque theme! Sure beats having to have conversations and mingling, eeiw.