Hi. I'm gonna ignore the 900lb gorilla in the room that is our inconsistent postings. After reviewing the site meter it has been brought to my attention that our readership has dwindled to those that serendipitously stumble upon our musings after googling something like impetigo from a tanning bed or worms in my yogurt read Wash Your Fruit in July 07 Archives or not...
Anyway, my career as an office raider has really taken off and has taken me to far away places including East Williamsburg, Brooklyn. I do not fit in there...at all. I, unfortunately, do not know any of the rules of Hasidism and have been breaking them all over town. I tried to shake one of my clients hands the other day...naturally he didn't want to shake my grubby hand and not taking the hint I essentially lunged at him and wrestled a hand shake out of him. If I had peed on him it would have been only a smidge more innappropriate. A few days later, I sashayed off an elevator in to the men's waiting parlor. Though after a night of heavy imbibing I often look like a hot tranny mess I am no man and do not belong there. Upon noticing the sign I went and sat on the other side in the ladies' waiting parlor. It's like middle school but not really at all. Then upon leaving the building a gentleman and I were waiting for the elevator, the doors flew open and I waltzed in and enthusiastically looked at the man to join me and he gestured for me to go on my way. There will be no riding on the elevators with moron girl or maybe just women in general, not sure.
After a day like this I asked Office Knight (aka my sister) to do a little research on the customs of Hasidic Jews and she said she would do no such thing because she was deriving entirely too much joy out of my blunders. I thought, perhaps you might too. Good day to you.
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