Now, my work desk is quite near the floor entrance doors, and very near the Ladies convenience.
Hence why my monitor is angled at 45° to Totty Avenue so I can ogle all the Pretties passing for a piss, poo, and period.
Anyhoo, many people walk past. So many, in fact, you hardly notice their passing.
Except for the women who feel the need to stomp.
And when I say stomp, I mean STOMP!
Big time.
And it's not even ten tonne Tessies! It can be the daintiest little slip of a thing!
Every day people pass - walky walky walk - never know they were they 'cept a movement out the corner of your eye.
But some - oh, some really put some effort into slamming their hooves down to garner as much volume as possible!
Stiletto's, sandals, strappy shoes, trainers - it matters not the footwear, but whatever they choose, even barefoot, really have to clomp about the place demanding "look at me!". Well, more scowl, rather than look, at those who belabour our eardrums with the thundering chiropodial equivalent of jungle drums being beaten by burly bezerkers in bearskins.
And its always women - never men! You'd think the hairy big-boned primate males would have a predilection for lumbering about with their heavy weight causing their footfall to be aurally OTT - but no. Seems to be just women.
There's really no need for it - I mean, there's a great fat behemoth of a bloke sat opposite me (no, not a mirror! He's thrice the size of me! And no - it's not a hall-of-mirrors mirror either!) and does he sound like a herd of stampeding elephants at an oasis when he goes off to get a trough of coffee?
Well, yes, but that's coz he's a blubbery bloater of porkitudinal volume!
But still, his humanoid equivalent of umbrella stands doesn't deafen the eardrums.
Yet some delicate, willowy angel of beauty somehow manages to sound like the industrial pounding of pistons going at it like the clappers!
Perhaps these ain't really Pretties at all... perhaps they're like Summer Glau in them there Sarah Connor Chronicles. All titaniums out of their holsters1 as their cyborgian chassis pounds their hydraulic heels into the carpeting!
No wonder the economy is in such a state, if we're investing all our money in chronological displacement of sexbot assassinatory automatons, just so we can employ cheap labour in our Centres Of Excellence!
One day, one of these cyberbabes will put their foot right through the floor. Then where will be be, eh? Animatronic Pretties in shorts skirts dangling from the ceiling of the floor below and I just get their top half sticking out our floor!
Good job we don't have them glass ceilings no more, as apart from them shattering and showering everyone below in shards, you can't enjoy Commando Fridays2 no more either!
Hold on... did I say good job...
1 YOU WISH, XYM!
2 SIMILAR TO TOPLESS TUESDAYS WHAT THEM PRETTIES I KNOW DO ON THAT THERE TUMBLR, AND NEVER GIVE ME THE ADDRESS SO I CAN'T SEE THEIR NORKIAL EXIBITIONS.
