9:19 a.m. - November 03, 2006
Readers of my blog know that I have a co-worker who drives me crazy on a daily basis. Sheís obsessed with having a perfect body, and is always doing some ridiculous diet so that she can maintain her body so that her fiancť wonít leave her (healthy, right?). Her weight loss technique du jour is a month-long colon cleanse, in which she will miraculously lose five pounds by crapping out a piece of pizza thatís been lodged in her intestine since she was 15.
Sheís been telling everyone in the office (and strangers that come in) how great sheís been feeling since she started, and how sheís sleeping better, and how her skin looks better than itís ever looked before! Now, what sheís failed to tell them is that the real reason her skin looks so great (depending on who you ask Ė like, if you ask me, Iím going to tell you that even though sheís the same age as me , her sun-obsessed lifestyle makes her look 40+, and therefore doesnít look great) is that she just spent $300 on botox shots. Why she would tell this to me, and then tell everyone else itís from the Colon Blow is beyond me, but we all know sheís nuts.
I have nothing against plastic surgery and/or cosmetic work. In fact, Iím going to saving for my own plastic surgery since I have flabby skin everywhere after dropping a lot of weight (mama needs some lipo).
In addition to having many eating disorders, sheís also a RAGING GERMOPHOBE. Since she makes my life such a living hell, I take knowing things like that as an opportunity to exact my revenge by playing on those phobias.
I wash my hands about twenty times a day. I canít stand when my hands are dirty. Itís not a germ thing, itís a looking at dirt thing.
Since I am the one who makes sure our kitchen stuff (cups, plates, silverware, teas, etc.) is always stocked, I always make sure to wash my hands before I touch anything. Thatís just common sense. And sometimes, since Celestiaís desk (sheís the crazy one) is right across from the kitchen, she always watches to see if I wash my hands before I touch anything.
So sometimes, just to freak her out, Iíll take the box of forks out of the cupboard and start putting them in the basket, and then Iíll say, "Hey, can you get the phone? I gotta pee like a racehorse!!" Then sheíll get a terrified look on her face, because she thinks my pee-covered hands will be touching the fork that is going to touch her mouth (thatís assuming sheís on the solid-food diet that week).
So Iíll go in the bathroom, and sometimes stay in there for a good long while, and when I come out, she always looks at my hands. Panicked. Like I might not have sense enough to wash them after Iíve just used the bathroom. And of course my hands always ARE clean, I just donít always let her know.
Sometimes Iíll sniff, or do a fake cough around her, to make her think Iím getting sick. Iíll say things like, "Is something going around? My throat feels scratchy." Ten minutes later, sheís running around the office with Clorox wipes wiping every conceivable surface she can, and popping vitamins like sheís Rush Limbaugh with the oxycontin.
But the best way to make her freak out is when she starts talking about her germ issue, and I say something like, "How can you be so afraid to touch your phone after someone with a cold has used it? Do you know how many people have handled your money before it was in your wallet? Who knows what crazy communicable diseases they might have had. Or who touched that pen youíre using. Or who sat in the chair at the hair salon before you did. What about all the people at restaurants that touch your food?? I mean, it says theyíre supposed to wash their hands, but whoís watching every single move they make?"
And then she runs in the bathroom, where I assume sheís either laying on the floor in the fetal position, or throwing up. Or both.
Either way, itís a small victory (I donít have enough time to go into why she brings these things on herself, but if youíve read my blog, youíd know).
Wow. You have no idea how hard it was for me to not curse in this whole entry.
Happy Friday, everybody!