Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Out

I love a good conference, I do. Not for the corporate element which I can guarentee you from this point (I'm typing this on the way down on the train - how gloriously modern!) will be draining and tedious, but for the wondrous thrill of seeing people out of the office Letting Their Hair Down. All those lovely office women I work with breaking out the high heels and the spangly tops, and all the men crop-sprayed in various eye-watering aftershaves. God bless clueless men. The ones that think that Lynx deodorant is an aftershave.

I love them all for the possibilities of What Could Happen. A room full of people who have had the most intense two months preparing for this event, thrown together and drunk... well! I'm picturing all those countles sales guys leaving their wedding rings on the hotel dresser, cutting a line through the dance floor with their thumbs aloft as this is how they dance. And the women getting a bit giggly on the vinegary table wine and playing Kiss, Marry, Kill with the oblivious members of Finance across the room. I love this kind of stuff. It makes any time in the office bearable. It's brilliant.

I think I must have been a bawdy temp in a former life or something. I'm forever picturing myself at these things like Julie Walter's character tipsily leaning up an unwilling businessman, going "You don't need to phone your wiiife..." before jiggling up and down and saying "Look at that! Fourty-two and no bra! Not bad, eh?" I would love to get off with a sales man, even though not a single one of them are attractive, simply for the sheer 1960s office worker thrill of the thing! Being gossiped about on the train home in the morning by the girls in the next carriage as you clutch your coat around you and try and scrape together what remains of your dignity and make-up. It's just a glorious thing in my head. It simply shouldn't happen because it would not be a tenth of the fun I've outlined above. And for that reason alone, I am pleased that most of the men in my office are married and not particually my cup of tea.

Though... if there is a gentleman who makes a startling suggestion along the lines of 'where's your ring', all bets are off I'm afraid. I can't help ride to a double entendre. And, because as Beyonce says, if you like it, put a ring on it.

8 comments:

Adrian said...

I haven't read your blog for an age, but I'm glad this is the first for my return. Wonderful.

CyberPete said...

Hah! Fabulous!

When you put it like that, everyone should have an office affair. There are a couple of really cute guys at the office I start working at on Monday. Good times!

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Stepfordtart said...

Hmm. My first husband was a salesman so, without making any kind of sweeping generalisations (!), I'd say 'Dont fucking well bother, they're all sexually repressed self-important wankers. With tiny cocks.'. There. Hope that helped. s x

natasha said...

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travelling, but not in love said...

Hilarious. Speaking as someone who has done the dirty at a company conference with a salesman, trust me, it's totally worth it....he he.