After spending an entire morning at work hearing my coworkers quiz each other regarding some TV show named Scrubs, I've come to the conclusion that I haven't been missing much on the tube. And those gossip and fashion magazines handed around aren't very interesting, either. It might be a sign of age that what has recently turned my head are advertisements in certain home decorating-type magazines by Kohler. I mean, artistic placements and treatments of plumbing have become oh so appealing. But then, I've always had a thing for bathtubs.
I love the dreamy, blue imagery, the little kerosene lamp hanging over the tub, the beautiful, placid water. Forget the Calgon. Kohler, take me away....
Seriously, doesn't this ad make you want that tub? I love the way the faucet is in the center, and the way the tub is shaped that obviously beckons the bather to fall asleep. The sink is beautiful, too.
By the way, this image was created by an artist named Sanjay Kothari, and you can gaze at more of his work, as well as other artists' renditions of Kohler products, over there.
Alright, enough about tubs, and I've certainly had enough of Scrubs, even if I've never seen it.
One image that did not impress me today was that of Teller#9's "boyfriend." Remember #9? She's still at it. All of it. Actually, she's added a couple things to the repertoire, I'm afraid. Not only has she called off work for just about every conceivable reason, she's been called OUT of work so the cops can search her place, and it's because of something the boyfriend, or whatever he is, has done. She knows nothing about this, of course. All she talked about was how offended she was about how the cops kept asking questions about their age difference--#9 is about 35, he's about 23. How dare they! "Aren't you a little old for him?" Boyfriend isn't living with her for nefarious reasons, or using her, oh no. He's Mr. Wonderful. Can't stop talking about how perfect he is. He's taking care of her.
I saw Mr. Wonderful for the first time today, and if I thought #9 was fooling herself before, let me amend that: Teller #9 is on crack. She would not be putting up with this loser just to make her ex-husband jealous. Well, maybe she would, but that would be because she's on crack. He looks even younger than his years, and he walks like a wet noodle, baseball cap covering his face, like he's embarrassed to be here. In other words, a sullen teenager. He disrupts her work life in a way that reminds me of a sickly child. There is absolutely nothing appealing about him, believe me. I was expecting either a tough guy or a cute one, so this was a shock. If this is her white knight, she needs to go back to sleep.
We all wonder what she's doing with her time, after calling off and making the rest of us dance around her. That's what makes it our business, that we have to react. So often, people say, "....but she's so nice." I used to say that. Actually, though, it's a practiced smokescreen; she's good at being friendly and chatty, and she seems to think of people, but she doesn't. When it comes to doing actual work, she's a shirker, even when she does make it in. (Her stomach, her back, and now, her head. That just sounds like a joke, doesn't it?) And I've written way too much about her, but she's become the workplace Britney Spears, and I mean that in the ugliest way possible.
Oh, and I didn't mention that she's also moonlighting at a pizza joint, because being a teller just doesn't pay enough. She's doing that "under the table." I love that expression, and tax evasion is such a brilliant idea, no?
And this is here just because it made me laugh. I don't know why; we don't have a dishwasher and I'm the one who shirks housekeeping. But I'll be good today, I promise, since I suddenly have the day off so that I can work on Saturday, so that Teller #9 can shirk that. Oh, whatever.
And I'll try not to set off the smoke alarm,
....or burn down the house, I promise. Happy hump day, everyone!