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...over-educated and under-experienced, or so they say...

Monday, October 26, 2009

The Lunch Room: Politically Incorrect Love Fantasies

Misanthrope: (sits down at Pandora's table) Heya.

Pandora: (looks up from her book) How goes the battle?

Misanthrope: The cubicle is winning thus far. You?

Pandora: Aye... the great oppressor with no ceiling and no real door. Haven't seen you in a while. How was your weekend? Any lovely ladies to speak of?

Misanthrope: (speaks through the side of his nearly full mouth) Weekend was, eh... Nothing significant. No significant ladies to speak of. What about you? Secret admirers? Special Valentines?

Pandora: Eh, I continue to be a menace to myself and society, so no special valentines or admirers. Although, I did come home the other night and found that flowers had been delivered to me from some no name sender. I have a stalker (or did have) that I threatened with police last December, so I assumed it was another stupid wooing attempt from him. However, as I learned this morning, the flowers actually came from a guy that works at the Walgreens by my house – which means he had to go looking through files, etc., to find my contact info. I am…disturbed, even though it may be harmless.

Misanthrope: Ooh, a Walgreens admirer? You must have made quite the impression on him! Careful with those drug people… (takes a bite of his sandwich) they have access to some scary stuff… (chews a bit more) Never accept a drink from a pharmacist!

Pandora: Yeah, I’m not sure what to do about this problem with love (or the lack thereof) that I’m having lately. All I did to the Walgreen guy was smile and make small talk, maybe a joke or two whenever I went in to pay for things. Seriously... It frustrates me! Did I ever tell you how I had to stop going to the Circle K by my house?

Misanthrope: (shakes his head and grins as he continues to chew his sandwich)

Pandora: Pfft... ya! I had to stop going to my favorite Circle K for my morning coffee because the old bald guy behind the counter started creeping me out! He somehow thought I was coming to see him every morning and not coming for the coffee.

Misanthrope: (peeking over his water cup) Does anyone truly go to Circle K for "the coffee?" I thought that's why you went to Starbucks. Are you sure it wasn't for the Bald Guy?

Pandora: (glares at him)

Misanthrope: What? I wouldn't know! You're the coffee fan, not me! I just... well... I'm sorry. Please... continue.

Pandora: I'm being dead serious right now, Misanthrope. I think I'm cursed! I had gone to dinner back in August with a guy that bored me to tears and after that he proceeded to stalk me and forced me to get mean! And I hate to get mean.

Misanthrope: You do? I thought you thrived on it.

Pandora: And you know the story about Bombastic Babbling Boy.

Misanthrope: Oh yes, that was a good one. The one where you enjoyed getting all, what did you call yourself, Ice Queen or something? Oh, but what am I thinking. You didn't enjoy being mean that time.

Pandora: Well, I did enjoy that one, but that was different, and you know it. But these things happen alot and it’s really starting to drive me nuts. What did I do to deserve this crap and how do I make it stop?

Misanthrope: (starts to unwrap his cookie) No clue. Thought about growing some hooves?

Pandora: Maybe I'll just let myself go.

Misanthrope: ...let yourself go?

Pandora: Yeah, you know, eat McDonalds three times a day, stop dressing nice, stop taking care of myself. If I did that the Circle K Baldy wouldn't feel the call to "meet my needs," so to speak. I won't have to get flowers from some random Walgreen guy that mistakes kindness as an invitation for romance. I won't have to sick the police on the guy that likes to show up unannounced at my house because he's convinced, I love him I just don't know it yet. If I have to be alone because God has somehow seen fit that I never meet my match, then I’ll have to make it so these idiots stop tormenting me. I can’t stand it anymore

Misanthrope: (wipes the crumbs from his hands and crumples his napkin) Unfortunately, going large wouldn’t stop them -- men, that is. There are those that prefer ‘em big. And I was going to suggest wearing a ring on the ol’ marriage finger, but then, there are those that prefer ‘em that way too. My point is, you’re screwed. There’s no way around it. There will always be men. I know. As a man myself, though often ashamed to admit my membership, I can say that we will be rationally or irrationally attracted to pretty much anything that moves at some point… if it can fog up a spoon, you know? Boost McDonalds stock, if you will. But it won’t help. Resistance is futile.

Pandora: (sits back in silent thought) What if I go all natural and never shower or shave in addition to the fatness?

Misanthrope: Still no. Mountain men everywhere will still go gaga… I’m sorry. No chance.

Pandora: (...sigh...) So what you’re saying is that I may as well just stay the same since nothing is going to change anyway.

Misanthrope: (raises an affirmative eyebrow)

Pandora: (plops her elbows on the table and purposely stirs her coffee) Life...it mocks me... regularly.

Misanthrope: Me? I'm the opposite. I could go get an amazing beach body through hours upon hours of tormenting exercise and get cosmetic surgery to look like Brad Pitt, and I still wouldn't get an ounce of attention. Eventually, I'd start working at a Circle K and start making googly eyes at a customer buying her daily coffee...

Pandora: Well, if bald man had done all of that, he may have gotten some attention from me. I guess the real question is -- would you prefer a blimpy girl or an unkempt showerless girl?

Misanthrope: Huh. Those are my only choices? That's rough. Hmmm... Well, is unkempt showerless girl fit? And... can I take the garden hose to her once in a while?

Pandora: You can take the hose to her from time to time, particularly in the summer. And yes, she’s fit, she’s just unkempt and showerless. Kinda like a French feminist, or …something like that.

Misanthrope: So she has a butch buzzcut and wears a communist jumpsuit and no bra? Ouch… I was originally seeing some sort of ugly duckling that, as long as she had a good foundation, could be transformed into something of beauty by just a few quick lessons in hygiene and a day at the spa… you know, an Eliza Doolittle… but now…
Tough call. Tough call…

Pandora: Okay, I take it back. Bad comparison. No butch buzzcut or communist jumpsuits. More like unruly, unkempt, and full of dread locks from prolonged bed head. Tons of armpit and leg hair from no time spent shaving. Probably greasy skin, maybe some pimples, because of the no shower thing. Not to mention the odor. And she would most likely throw a fit about taking a bath, just like Eliza Doolittle.

Misanthrope: But a good foundation? Nice bone structure and a decent shape?

Pandora: Sure. I'll allow that.

Misanthrope: Huh, well, at least potential is there, right? I mean, sure I’m OCD and would only be able to hold her hand with latex/nitrile-gloved hands. And sure, I’d line my couch and bed and anywhere she’d go with plastic… and yeah, perhaps I’d be taking bleach showers. But dammit, I think I’m going to take the shallow road here and say that, in the case where I am given only a choice of between fatty or dirty, my choice would be to the one with seemingly more immediate hotness potential. I mean, sure, they both have potential. But the one would take months and months of dieting and exercise. Whereas the other I could slip a roofie and commit to a day spa and have them take care of her in a day. You know, something I could repeat ... monthly? ...weekly maybe? I guess I have to admit that I’m shallow like that… What about you?!

Pandora: I have an issue with people that smell. Having a man with a smelling pit wrap his arm around me and potentially make my clothes, skin, and hair smell is absolutely terrifying. And what about the teeth? I imagine part of the unkempt is to have disgustingly filthy teeth and rancid breath. That might be a severe issue. I mean… you’re worried about covering the bed with plastic but I’m thinking the desire to let them near the bed might be an issue. Nose plugs may be necessary too. Weekly trips to the day spa still only happen once every seven days. And it may be the only time I seriously mean it when I ask, “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Misanthrope: (sits back in his chair) Oo! You just made some disgusting points. Hm. How about this? Lets reduce our options and say that we are kidnapped and sent to some 3rd world country and forced to be the love slave of either a fatty or a dirty… there are no plastic sheets or nose plugs. We are at the mercy of these two creatures. Then which would you choose? I might have to go with the fatty in this case. At least I can maintain some sort of cleanliness… and at least there’d be the possibility she’d smother me to death and I could be put out of my misery…

Pandora: Yeah… I can’t handle filth. (...sigh...) Funny how we’ve both lost so much faith that we just created a scenario where “love” will be forced upon us in the form of an oppressively obese Iraqi that might mercifully kill a couple of American Infidels via amorous asphyxiation.

Misanthrope: Yep. If only we could be so lucky. (grabs his lunch box) Take it easy, Pandora. Don't work too late tonight.

Pandora: I won't. Have a good one.

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