thinking before one speaks

One of my mates, Moogs, works at a male-dominated company. In insurance. To be precise. (Explanation of male dominance radically aborted.) In an open-plan office, probably with fluorescent lighting, a dead plant and a coffee machine that doesn’t work properly, especially in winter. I speculate purely for the sake of poetic license. All men, except for one. A painfully quiet Indian lass, who 90% of the day, tinkers away at her keyboard, which can only, I imagine, pique the interest of all the males dominating this testosterone-fueled environment.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to work with more men. But then I’m not the shy, retiring type at the best of times.

My mate walks into the office and exclaims loudly in the silent din, “What’s that smell?” (For indeed, he smelt something, strong and potent) to which this young, and shy little lady (who should’ve known better in retrospect), sat up, peered over her cubicle-divider and said, “Oh sorry, it’s my guava.”

Oh my shattered fat fuck.

She then bit into her guava, still completely unawares as to the sexual reference of her punani, and why her male audience found this so funny.

Guavery slip-up aside, there is actually a reason why I am using Moogs’ story in my blog post this morning. A few reasons really:

1) Because it’s a funny story.
2) So that He with the Tiny Ass doesn’t get a mention (Notice how this isn’t redundant. Cunning.)
3) Because it reminds me of how I have never said something like that, and in turn, makes my outstanding performance at The Dinner on Friday night that much more incredible.
4) Reference to the guava. Break-ups, hook-ups, fuck-ups, at least I have my guava.
5) Reference to male-dominated office. Something I do not have. Sodding women all over the place here, minus my [insert derogatory adjective here] male boss. Bringing me to my ultimate office fantasy: being banged on a warm Xerox machine after-hours, by a man dressed in a Cavalli suit and smelling deliciously of Hugo Boss Red.
6) And most emphatically: The lump in my breast. For I promised an update two weeks prior. It hasn’t disappeared, but has strangely morphed. It’s changed shape. Only over the last four days. Does cancer change shape? Like, does it move? I’m doubting it. But perhaps a mammogram is in order anyway, just to be sure.