Stop with the Googly Eyes

We all get the occasional complement at work. Some more than others, I dare say, but enough that even I get one now and again. Which is good, yes? But here’s the thing: I came in yesterday, and Chip said I looked nice. (Thanks). That the jacket I had on was very nice (thanks). That it fit really well (umm, getting a bit much here). Honestly, it fits really well and the white lace thing (which was a tank top thing) was really pretty (way too much) and that it all fit really well. (Ack! Stop staring at my chest. Which, come to think of it, is really well hidden beneath various layers of clothing. Why is Chip staring at the girls? Why is it that whether I wear daring, decent or downright Victorian clothes, Ickythickears and Chip keep staring?You’d think I have the map to the Holy Grail tattooed somewhere on them. And I don’t, so don’t ask).

There. That’s my bit for today.