Stupid thing the first: Crusty, D, C and my good self were in the crib room having a morning cup of coffee and we were discussing how CN was back at work after 15 months off for a crook knee.
Crusty and I had had a bet with our boss on whether CN would be back that week, and we were going off our collective nuts about the fact “the lazy bludger” was back. Though “we doubted he’d do any actual work.”
Which is probably not a nice thing to say about someone when they’re in the next room and can hear you clearly.
It was true though, so I’m standing by my comment. He’s couldn’t work in an iron-lung.
Stupid thing the second: Mere moments after realizing CN could hear us and we had finished feeling like right mindas I said out loud and very distinctly “Move on, people! Move on!!” This is our GM’s favourite saying, and he ends his weekly newsletter with “Move on!” and we all use it now for everything. “My coffee has too much milk in it!” “Move on!! Move on!!”, “I’m concerned about world peace!” “Move on!! Move on!!”
One second after I said “Move on, people! Move on!!” from outside the room our Boss said “Hey C – have you met :insert GM’s name here:?” So basically, I mocked my boss’ boss’ boss when he was standing right behind me.
Mortification: Thy name is Erika.
Everybody (other than myself) found the moment incredibly funny. Rumour has it they’ve started a betting pool on when my “DMC” Don’t Come Monday letter will come through. I shall never live this down. Ever.
Stupid thing the third: I was having a bit of a chin-wag with C and T outside in the smoking bay. We were talking about T.B (more about him in my next post) and C was going on about how she would be saddened when I do eventually end up in a relationship. She reckons she’s living vicariously through me, and once the race has been run and T.B has been caught I’ll be boring and will stop telling them whats going on.
Damn right too. I won’t tell ‘em a thing. “Erika – is that an engagement ring you’re wearing?” “No. I’ve just decided to start wearing diamonds to work.”
“Erika – were your wedding photos in the paper the other day?” “Nope – that was my twin.”
“Erika – is it true your pregnant with twins and starting maternity leave next week?” “Nope, I’m retaining water. Lots of water.”
C though she is looking forward to the day I come to work “walking funny”. I won’t be able to hide that she says.
“Not gonna happen!” Says I, “I shall have a sick day, so no one knows anything! Ha! Foiled!”
“Not so!” They chimed in. “The next time you have a sickie we shall know!! You’ve been bumping uglies with a boy!!”
We had a giggle, and then I was off doing ‘a spiel.’ “I can just imagine it – ‘Babbling’ (our nickname for our boss) comes to work one day and tells you I’ve been emergency air-lifted to the city with a burst appendix and you’ll all be “Yay! Erika’s gone off on a dirty weekend!!” when I’ve really come close to dying. And then ‘Babbling’ will tell you “No, really: she’s in a coma.” And you go “Yay! She’s been shagged senseless!” And just as I said the phrased “Yay!….senseless!” Babbling himself walked out and heard it.
Well, we’re not sure he heard it, but it was enough to make me shut-up.
Raunchy thing the only: Before I can tell you the raunchy thing, I need to explain what had happened the day before.
C was in the crib-room (has anyone else noticed C has been part of every stupid thing I’ve said? Hmm, interesting.) talking to jackka, shellio, and D (our Ioan Grufford look-alike. Seriously they could be twins.) I was going past and popped my head in to tell her “The duck is in the courtyard.” – I’ll explain that in my next T.B. post – and she was bemoaning to jackka that she was trying to find me a nice young boy. D looks up from the magazine he was reading and looks at me. “Hey Erika. What are you doing Friday night?” Which got the gals screaming in laughter. The only thing that flew into depraved private Catholic school-girl mind* was “Well, if you’re lucky D – you.” But I didn’t say it out loud. I wish I did though – you knows what I would have ended up doing Friday night. ;-)
So anyway, the next day I was in the XRF room with Jackka and – you guessed it – C and C asked me who I would choose if I was down at the Tavern on a Friday night and both D and T.B. asked me home. “Who says I have to choose? Why can’t they just make an Erika sandwich?”
Jackka was horrified. C nearly fell over shrieking with laughter. I couldn’t look at either D or T.B. all day, even though neither had heard the comment. Why couldn’t I look at them? I kept thinking of positions. And then there was one thought where it was only D and T.B. and I was just watching. Damn you slash writers!! Damn you!! :g: (That thought alone kept me slightly dazed for an hour.)
* It’s true. I’m the product of a private Catholic school up-bringing. It’s true what they say about the students. We’re a perverted lot. I should point out the brothers and nuns were very well-behaved. It’s just the students you have to watch out for.