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Enough about The Lunchist I?ve got my own problems in the lunchroom

First, I should probably address the concerned Queefie emails I’ve been getting about the flooding here.  The Crissys have emerged unscathed, thanks for asking.  Our basement is dry, our street is dry, we’re dry. Getting to work is harder for both me and Mister though because our normal routes are flooded, and so it takes us each like 20 minutes instead of 10 to get to work.  OH, THE HARDSHIP!  I haven’t been able to see my Vinny over at the deli because the Stop & Shop is underwater.  That’s okay though because absence makes the heart grow fonder and that was a ghetto Stop & Shop anyway.  They didn’t really even have an organic section.

I know.  WTF?


But enough about boring stuff like states of emergency and disasters because apparently, the lunchroom at work has it out for both  me and The Lunchist. I’m having issues in there too.

I eat dinner at my desk now because there’s this annoying person who likes to take her dinner break at the same time as I do.  We’ll call her Princess Twattington because that is not her name. She’s all of 16 or 17 and is but a lowly library page who puts the books back on the shelves.  That’s right Queefies, librarians have people for that. Contrary to popular belief, they don’t do it themselves.  Library pages are also the people who have to clean the poopie off the books when somebody decides to make a whole ‘nuther kind of deposit in the book drop.  I pray Miss Twattington is on duty the next time it happens because the experience will be good for her.

Anyway, Miss Twattington has a little bit of a problem understanding lunch room etiquette.  For example, if I am such an asshole as to get to the lunch room first and put my humble little frozen Amy’s dinner in the microwave, and she  happens to walk in and find the microwave is taken for the moment, she stands in front of it with her dinner in her hand and taps her little toe waiting for the thing to beep, and as soon as it does, she punches the button to open the door and shouts “WHOSE DINNER IS THIS?”  in her most annoyed princess voice and she takes the dinner out and throws it on the counter.  You can forget about checking to see if your dinner is hot enough because Miss Twattington already has her stuff in the microwave before you can even get over there.

She doesn’t do this to only me. She pulled my boss’s dinner out and put it in front of her on the table.  My boss is not a woman to be trifled with.  I’m surprised she let Miss Twattington keep her face, to be honest.

While other people may be able to tolerate Miss Twattington’s behavior, I have a hard time with it and I’ve come pretty close to punching her dead in the face because that precious 30 minutes in the lunch room is quite often the only peace and quiet I get all week.  It’s the only time I have to sit with a People magazine or an InStyle or a Pottery Barn catalog or whatever and just eat my sad little dinner without having to get up a hundred times to cater to some kids.  And then I come to work and I have to deal with this crap from somebody else’s kid?

I call bullshit on that.

And before you think I’m overreacting, there’s more.

There are 5 other chairs at the table and she chooses the one RIGHTNEXTOME and practically sits in my lap. I’ve tried spreading my stuff out so she’d choose another chair, but NO.  She totally invades my space and puts her stuff down ON TOP OF my stuff and then, and this is the most annoying thing for me, she chews like a cow and loudly smacks her lips and BELCHES while she eats.

I do not like to have my space invaded and I do not like eating noises, Queefies.

Just ask Mister.  If people get too close to me, I move.  If people are gross when they eat,  I’ll take my dinner and eat it somewhere else because it makes me want to stab them in the eye with a fork.

And then if I’m at the sink washing my dishes, she literally puts her hands in front of me and starts washing her dishes as if I wasn’t already there!

And sadly for Miss Twattington, the lunchroom is not the only place where her etiquette skills are lacking.  I’ve had to jump out of her path so she wouldn’t slam into me because she was clearly not planning on going around me.   She’s twice my size.  It would hurt if she slammed into me.  I’ve been looking at books on a cart and she’s literally stepped in front of me and taken them away!  She has pushed some of my co-workers out of her way, and when an office door is closed, she just opens it without knocking and walks on in.

Pretty much everyone is annoyed by her rude behavior, and I have been elected to be the one who puts Princess Twattington in her place, but I don’t think I’m going to.

I think I’m going to wait for the girls in her college dorm to do it.  They’ll be far more cruel and punishing than I could ever be and so for now, I’m going to eat at my desk and avoid contact with her because really?

I’ve got my own princesses to discipline.  Speaking of, Girlfriend just shoved poor little Homeslice over and made her do a faceplant into a hardcover book she was looking at.

I’ve got to go kick some ass.