Announcements

Sometimes, Overshare just overshares with one person at a time. Other times, she decides to overshare with the whole office at once.

Last week, she started a “conversation” with me while in the common area of our office, which, I’d like to point out, is actually quite far from where I actually sit. Maybe it’s just me, but I tend to start talking to someone when I can see him or her. I don’t really start shouting at them from a distance. Especially when I’m planning to shout something like this:

Overshare, yelling to everyone: Hey, Anonymous! Your porn came!
Entire Office: [shocked silence]
Overshare: Anonymous! Porn!

There was nothing I could do, folks. I exited my office as fast as I could, trying to think of what to do.

Unfortunately, all that came out was:

Anonymous: WHHAAAAAA?
Overshare: Your porn came!
Anonymous, blushing furiously even though she knows it can’t POSSIBLY be actual porn: Huh?
Overshare: See? Your porn!

At this point, Overshare thrust a perfectly normal, work-relevant, non-porn magazine into my hand. A small group of people stuck their heads out of their cubicles, I suspect to see if it was actual porn. Boss Man had even come out of his office to see what the commotion was about.

Anonymous, incoherent from embarrassment: But… wait… wha… huh?
Overshare: Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to call it porn…

Oh yes she did. She so very did mean to call it that.

Overshare: I just know you really like this magazine.
Anonymous: Yes, well.
Overshare: So, in a way, it IS like your porn.
Anonymous: [silence]
Overshare: Pretty kinky.

Let The Freak Out Begin!

I know, I know… Bad Anonymous Coworker, leaving you all hanging like that. But seriously, every single time I went to start typing something up—Overshare herself would walk into my office. And having to deal with her approximately 395,485 times a day is so exhausting I’ve just gone straight to sleep when I get home. Sorry for the delay folks.

Overshare: So I totally got the explanation from CTF about why Swedish Nanny is living with him.
Anonymous: And?
Overshare: She was fired from her nanny job.
Anonymous: Oh! Do you know why?
Overshare: Something about CTF being over too much.

I have to say, if I were in the parents shoes—I wouldn’t want CTF anywhere near my house, either.

Anonymous: Ah. Yes, well…
Overshare: I’m actually kind of worried about her living there though—who knows how CTF will be when he has someone so accessible.
Anonymous: Accessible?
Overshare: But since she’s foreign, getting fired means she lost her visa sponsorship, right? Which means she’s going to have to leave! I win!
Anonymous: How long will she be staying with CTF?
Overshare: Oh, two or three months.
Anonymous: Months? A lot can happen in a few months.
Overshare: Nothing major.
Anonymous: You sure?
Overshare: What are you talking about?
Anonymous: She could get another nanny job.
Overshare: I don’t think she wants to; apparently she didn’t like it much.
Anonymous: What if Swedish Nanny wants CTF to marry her so she can stay?
Overshare: [silence]
Anonymous: Overshare?
Overshare: Ho. Ly. Shit.

Swedish Nanny: 1, Overshare: 0

Because I find this endlessly entertaining, here are some of the latest Google searches to lead to this blog:

"Obsessed with my chest"
"Barefoot at my desk" (to whoever googled this: Please, don't. Thanks.)
"Evil Sorority"
"Twisted kind of pleasure" (ummm… ew?)
"Coworker does nothing"
"When I wear skirts" (I feel like this is the start of some crazy Madlib.)

And then there’s the completely unexplainable “wooden clogs blog -holland -dutch -tree –geta”. Huh?

And not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES have people googled “Large feet for a woman” and gotten here. Who knew that was so popular?

On to today's story.

Overshare: You will not BELIEVE what has happened now.
Anonymous: No, I probably won’t.
Overshare: Wanna guess?
Anonymous: Not really, no.
Overshare: Fine. You probably wouldn’t get it anyway.

Wait one second. Did she just insult my intelligence?

Anonymous: Hmph.
Overshare: CTF invited Swedish Nanny to move in with him!
Anonymous: [laughs, slightly hysterically.]
Overshare: It’s not funny.
Anonymous: Kind of, it is.
Overshare: No, it’s not! What am I going to do now?
Anonymous: Do?
Overshare: What am I going to DO?!?
Anonymous: What do you mean?
Overshare: Clearly, I have to do something. Or else she's going to win.

I wouldn't call it winning, Bob.

Anonymous: There’s not much you can do, is there? It’s CTF’s decision.
Overshare: I’m just going to have to up the sex, I guess. You know, really take it to the next level.
Anonymous: Err…
Overshare: He won’t know what hit him! Literally!

Mine eyes. They hurt.

Just, Please, Keep The Piercings To Yourself

Every once in a while, my section of the company will have a meeting where some of the higher ups come in and talk about their section of the company, what they’re doing currently, what they’re planning, etc.

You know how sometimes before these things, while you are waiting for everyone to show up, there’s that random downtime that people usually fill with chatter about sports, or projects, or, you know, normal things? Imagine the chitchat that happens when you work with Overshare. Now imagine Overshare’s chitchat with a higher up in the room.

Actually, you don’t have to because I was there to experience it.

Overshare: Boss Man, do you have any tattoos?
Boss Man: No.
Overshare: What about you, Incredibly Important Uppity Up?
Incredibly Important Uppity Up: No.
Overshare: Oh. Wanna see mine?
IIUU, Boss Man simultaneously: No!
Overshare: Oh, it's no big deal... just a small tattoo.
Boss Man: We should get started.
Overshare: Oh, just take a quick look. [Pulls the back waistband of her pants down, shows tattoo the size of a half-dollar to the group.] Like it?
IIUU, dismissively: Couldn't see it, really.
Overshare: Oh. One sec. [Gets up, moves to stand in front of IIUU, does it again.] Like it?
IIUU: Interesting.

[Complete Silence in the room.]

IIUU: Let’s just get started, shall we?

Ben & Jerry Would Be So Proud

One day after a rare company lunch outing, I ended up walking back to the office with Overshare and Toolshed. Trust me, I wasn't thrilled that the group broke down that way, but oh my damn am I kind of glad it happened. Because without that unfortunate incident, I'd never have witnessed this gem.

Overshare: Mmm... ice cream. We should stop and get ice cream.
Toolshed: Ice cream.
Overshare: Ice cream.
Toolshed: Iiiicccce Crrrrrrrrreeeeaaammmm.
Overshare: Ice. Ice. Ice. Crrrrreeeeeeeeaaaaam. CREEEAAAMMMM!!!

Yeah, folks. I don't know either. It was bizarre.

Toolshed: I'm a championship ice cream eater. Ice. Cream.
Overshare: Championship?
Toolshed: Championship. I eat a half-pint of ice cream every night.
Overshare: A half-pint? Of ice cream?

Seriously. At this point I was thisclose to screaming: Yes!! We've established that we (and I'm using the term "we" loosely, here) are talking about ice cream already. There's no need to keep. saying. ice. crrreeeeeaaaammmm.

Toolshed: Ice. Crrreeeaaaaaammmm.
Overshare: Wow. Is that how you maintain your svelte figure?
Toolshed: Sure is. I like to maintain a layer of fat over my muscular frame.
Overshare: Damn... without that ice cream you'd have no ass at all, would you?
Toolshed: Nope. And then what would you caress?