Please. I Will Sell My Soul to the Devil to Get You to Shut UP.

Please.  I Will Sell My Soul to the Devil to Get You to Shut UP.

I sit ten feet from a co-worker who won’t shut up. She talks and talks and talks. About nothing. Then she goes from desk to desk reading book passages or telling a story that starts off with “Back in 1938 we didn’t have Twitter.” I turned to my other co-worker and whispered “Who the fuck pulled her string?” Sometimes when she talks it’s like coming into the middle of the script. I have no idea what she’s talking about. Today she was on repeat and the fifth time she told me something I wanted to scream “Calm your tits.” I have no idea what that means but wouldn’t it be lovely to tell someone to calm their tits and they have no idea what that means so they shut up. For a few minutes.

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About jkhughes2

I'm fat and I hate my job. Well kinda. Kinda on both of those. I love to read and work in a library where they don't let me read. But as long as I get to be around books I'm happy. I once wanted to be a writer and then realized that I'm too lazy to write a book but not too lazy to write a blog. And blogging is like keeping a journal except my posts are the equivalent of verbal diarrhea. And oh yeah. I have really low self-esteem. I have a dog named Max but I call him Maxhole. He's the first dog I've ever had. I find his daily life way more interesting than mine or most people I know. That's about it. I hate politics and computer books. I secretly wish I was Doctor Who but can't remember if that's "was" or "were." Now that's it.
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5 Responses to Please. I Will Sell My Soul to the Devil to Get You to Shut UP.

  1. Gloria says:

    Except this poor deaf extremely loud co-worker would mis hear you and yell”Mark Spttz whatabout him?”

  2. Victoria says:

    Oh my. I had a roommate (for an extremely brief time) who talked incessantly, about nothing. And he had no problem interrupting me no matter what I was doing, and/or who I was doing it with, to blather. (Narcissist) One day, I spun around in my desk chair and gave him my absolute attention, eyes to eyes. When he finally stopped talking, I pointed to my ear and asked him, “What’s this?” With a blank expression, he said, “What? I don’t see anything.” I asked him to look a little closer because I was quite sure that my brain had imploded and was oozing out of my ear. Conversation over. Have a delightfully quiet weekend, JK.

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