You know that one free half hour a day I find time to read? Yeah, I really do love it when you come and rescue me from the tedium of my favorite novel. Thank you so much.
Please, Weird Girl at Work, corner me outside on my lunchbreak to blatter on about how you're mad at you husband because he stole your ATM card to put gas in his car, draining your account so that now you can't pay for your kids daycare, etc, during the only half hour of the day I DON'T have to play slave to stupid people on the phone ..................... yeah. I really like that.
The security guard at the bus station that actually used the line, "So have you ever read any other books?" to hit on me ................ yeah, that was hot and not at all annoying.
I'm begging you, if you see me trapped with a book, ask me ridiculous questions at an intervel that gives me moments of hope and then dashes them by insuring that I can't read more than three words without interruption.
Furrowing my brow, holding the book closer to my face, answering all your mosquito-like questions with quiet "hmmmmms" and "oohs" and "wows," that's how I express how much I enjoy your effort.
I think to myself, "Well, since there is no one around to regale me with stories of their upcoming gallbladder surgery, I guess I'll be forced into opening this dog-eared copy of a pulitzer prize winning novel with engaging characters and rapid plot."
Rescue me, I'm begging you.
Please, Weird Girl at Work, corner me outside on my lunchbreak to blatter on about how you're mad at you husband because he stole your ATM card to put gas in his car, draining your account so that now you can't pay for your kids daycare, etc, during the only half hour of the day I DON'T have to play slave to stupid people on the phone ..................... yeah. I really like that.
The security guard at the bus station that actually used the line, "So have you ever read any other books?" to hit on me ................ yeah, that was hot and not at all annoying.
I'm begging you, if you see me trapped with a book, ask me ridiculous questions at an intervel that gives me moments of hope and then dashes them by insuring that I can't read more than three words without interruption.
Furrowing my brow, holding the book closer to my face, answering all your mosquito-like questions with quiet "hmmmmms" and "oohs" and "wows," that's how I express how much I enjoy your effort.
I think to myself, "Well, since there is no one around to regale me with stories of their upcoming gallbladder surgery, I guess I'll be forced into opening this dog-eared copy of a pulitzer prize winning novel with engaging characters and rapid plot."
Rescue me, I'm begging you.
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