Today I had one of the strangest client encounters I've ever had while at work. It went like this....
A man walked in to the office. Let's call him Dick. It's appropriate.
Me: Hi, can I help you?
Dick: Yes, you can comb your hair.
What I should have said: Why don't you go comb your face?
What I actually said after recovering from my wide eyed, quizzical-dog head tilt: *extremely awkward laugh* But can I help you with anything? *stumbles blindly through rest of encounter, but otherwise survives until he finally fucking leaves*
I'm absolute shit at confrontation, and I just didn't see that one coming. He was completely deadpan and I still have literally no idea if he was trying to be clever (I really don't have a good example of how this could be construed as clever...) or if he was just a complete waste of breathable air.
It's important to note here that my hair was in a bun, and that he had the follicular equivalent of a dead cat on his head. I get that not everyone loves the wild colours I've grown so fond of, but seriously, I do try to maintain a pretty high level of overall hair maintenance. And in any case, he didn't seem concerned with the colour....but instead with how much I brushed it? Which he could tell from the tidy professional bun I was sporting? I'm still so confused.
You sir, are an asshole.
Wednesday, 19 April 2017
Sunday, 16 April 2017
|Who rides a frog? Santa. |
Santa rides a frog now.
Unfortunately, the hateful little gnome was only about 3 inches tall, and not nearly as offensive as I had originally hoped, but she was deeply unimpressed, so I feel like I achieved my goal.
Like any good daughter, on my next visit I made sure my thoughtful gift was prominently displayed. When it mysteriously vanished I even took the time to find it and carefully replace it in the centre of the living room. I took great joy in the fact that she had to keep it, as it was a gift from her loving daughter. Perfection.
Until I got home.
|Don't be fooled, these guys |
hear, see, and speak evil
On my return trip, the gnome was replaced in it's rightful spot, but again it found it's way back to me with terrifying speed. The little frog riding shit became a fixture on my nightstand, mocking me, daring me to make the next move. And so I did.
It was time for an infestation.
|This guy has a light! |
And she didn't. We have now made it all the way home, and she's only just realizing the plague that has taken her household. She hasn't yet discovered the depths to which she's caused me to sink.
|Best of luck finding this guy...|
Mom, as you're reading this, know that while the kids have had their Easter egg hunt, your very own hunt is just beginning. These little guys have taken up residence throughout your house; may the odds be ever in your favour.
And by that I mean there are a ludicrous number of gnomes in your house. Let the games begin!
***I think it's also important to note that none of the pictures shown here provide any clues as to the vastness of my army. Just know their numbers are significant, and you will never know if they've all been found.