Why, no it isn’t the LA smog on a CO vacation…

Who smokes like the Marlboro Man, a cloud of noxious fumes always accompanying her, regardless of her final destination?

Who stinks like the burning tar of the Jurassic Period, or so I imagine?

Who smiles at you with a tinge of yellow coating her enamel like a weak and tired gold plating, except, yeah, that ain’t gold?!?

Well, no, it isn’t Shaft; it’s the Uncontrollable Laugher in the next cube over!

You know, she was gone for the first part of this week, and it was quiet and, you know, cancer free and all. This morning rolls around and I’m sitting at my cube working hard, industriously, efficiently, relentlessly and dedicatedly on my blog, when I smell what has to be an escaped imp from the smoky confines of Heck. Is there a fire, I think? Is someone being burned in effigy in the lobby, I wonder? Then I hear a ‘good morning’ and I look up and there is my cube neighbor. ‘Hello’ I manage to choke out, ‘how are you?’ managing to even breath thru the deadly and invisible, but not imperceptible, cloud of ghastly putrescence? I added that last bit in my head.

So now my throat is getting that scratchy irritating feeling, but, thankfully, my nose has surrendered, not nearly as fast as the French, unfortunately, but swiftly enough for me to be mildly thankful that it is deadened to the continued odiferous assault.

I’m thinking about requesting a move…