Boredom

My mind wanders a lot when I am bored. I don’t really day dream in the usual girly way about frolicking in fields, that new pair of Gucci shoes, or the new mail boy in the office but my mind does come up with some weird crap to entertain itself. Like, I was informed by Nel that he had a dream about me. I was skipping through a field with this dude that we saw at the MAC store when they were launching the new Hello Kitty line. He was wearing PVC pants, no shirt (no shirt needed. Hot.) and a giant, black leather Hello Kitty head that had straps falling from it all over him (I really wish I took a picture).

This is the best I could do. Imagine that head on a sexy half dressed body. That’s right kinky Hello Kitty dude was in the middle of Yorkdale on a Saturday afternoon. And he must have been cold cuz he had some serious nip-ons. I have had the image of us prancing through the countryside ever since Nel told me about it. Is that weird?

Lady Ga-Ga is playing (ugh!) and people are arguing in the background.

Anyways…as I am typing this the thought of my fingers revolting against me streams into my consciousness.  Each digit detaches itself from my hand and hop across the keyboard. They work together as if they were still attached to my hand and type little phrases at me. “Viva la revolution!”, “We don’t wanna fing!”, “Who put the thumb in charge?” And I think I might be getting flipped off but it is hard to tell when my fingers aren’t in order. I look at my fingerless/thumbless hands that more look like hairless paws, and try to think of a way grab my fingers. I start swatting at the little sausages with no avail. They hop away, across the keyboard, then the desk, onto the floor, and away.

The thought that I will never open a door again pops into my head. I will have to have a special home made for me with no door knobs. Rooms that need privacy will either have paths that will give the illusion of a closed barrier or doors that use palm readers or I can have those hinged doors that swing both ways so every time I walk through one I feel like I am walking into a western.

I would have to come up with a story as to why I was lacking the appropriate appendages. Something about being a carpenter who was in love with the different woods and textures and some tragic accident left me without fingers. Maybe I was deep in the Canadian tundra looking for a type of wood and got lost in the forest during a storm and due to frost bite they had to be removed. While I was protecting a lost child as well and I was branded a hero. I would have to by a plaque and get it engraved to backup my claim. I wonder how much that would cost.

Then the phone rings. And I realize I am at work and have been staring at my hands as they hover over the keyboard for about 5 minutes. I snap back into reality. I wiggle my fingers, I am really happy they still fing and am way too happy to realize that I will be able to open doors. Yay, doors! That stupid Beyonce song is on for the umpteenth time. I really wish they would pick a better station. I don’t deserve to be subjected to this. What is that noise?

Oh yeah, I gotta answer the phone.

Tra