MrAccountantHead and EvilCowDogSlutFace

Control my life. Vote on how to tell my flatmate I like him.

A totally annoying day: got grilled by the accountant, saw my potential replacements, and watched HarryPotter flirt (not a pretty sight).

The Accountant

MrAccountantHead spent the better part of my morning annoying me by asking me why I did certain tasks a certain way. Why did I enter this person’s royalties as such? Why did I file expenses on this day of the month? Why did I log this payment and this invoice as such and such?

My answer to all of them, ‘I don’t know. I WASN’T PROPERLY TRAINED, so most of the time I just had to sort it out.’

The guy was getting right on my tits; so when MyAuthor rang this afternoon I was in revenge mode. If you’ll remember, Boobs casually told me that they plan on dropping MyAuthor after her next book, and I was in a bit of a moral quandary as to whether or not I should tell MyAuthor. (See the PS at the bottom.) Well, I decided, ‘Fuck it’. And I told her.

It was a discrete conversation. It wasn’t like I was blabbing down the end of the phone. I said in a very low voice: ‘I just wanted to let you know about a rumour I’ve heard. From what I understand MNM will be cutting certain authors who are not making projected profits, and I’m worried that you may be one of these authors. You might want to have your agent look into this.’

I didn’t want her to think MNM was only cutting her, and Boobs could have changed her mind. So, it probably is best to have the agent check it out, but if they do plan on cutting MyAuthor, I hope her agent right sticks it to MNM for being such ruthless shites.

The Replacements and The Ugly Face of Flirting

The placement interviews were today. There were five candidates: three boys and two girls. (Or should I say, three men and two woman. Who knows what you call someone in their early 20s.) They all looked professional, were polite, and I’m sure they interviewed well. I don’t know, I wasn’t in the interview, and I don’t care. Well, I care about one of the applicants, this girl who will now be known as EvilCowDogSlutFace.

EvilCowDogSlutFace was a bit early for her interview so I had her take a seat by my desk and wait. As it was just before lunch, HarryPotter popped around to see if I wanted to go to the café. Well, guess who he recognised? Yup, EvilCowDogSlutFace is the little sister of someone he went to school with. But now she’s all grown up with tits and arse and perfectly straightened blond hair and a perfectly tailored business suit. Not a good day for me to wake up late, throw my hair in a ponytail, grab whatever is clean even though it doesn’t fit, and put on my make-up while HarryPotter drives me to work, thus causing a slight eyeliner mishap. Nope, as I stood next to EvilCowDogSlutFace, it was obvious who put the effort in, and it wasn’t me.

She squealed when she saw him, and they did that stupid double kiss thing. (I’ve never seen HarryPotter do a double kiss; I have no idea what he was trying to prove.) They played the old ‘Oh, it’s so great you’re applying for the job’, ‘It would be fabulous to work together’, ‘Have you seen old so-and-so’, ‘The last time I saw whatshisface was at such-and-such’s party’. Bleck!

And the whole time, she got closer and closer to him, and he never stepped back. He let her get into his personal space. Then, she actually flipped her hair back and touched his arm. What kind of seriously clichéd flirting is that? Flipping hair? How old-school obvious is that? And touching his arm? Everyone knows what that means; she may as well have grabbed his crotch.

Thank god Boobs finally came and got EvilCowDogSlutFace for her interview. I asked HarryPotter if he wanted to go to lunch, and his answer was ‘I’d like to wait until she comes out of the interview, just to see how it goes.’

I was hungry and had no desire to wait around for HarryPotter get hit on, so I went to lunch by myself. By the time I came back, EvilCowDogSlutFace was out of the interview. She was standing by HarryPotter’s desk laughing at something. It was one of those fake laughs — loud enough to sound like you really thought the joke was funny, but light enough to still seem feminine. Then she says, ‘Okay. We’re going out sometime.’

He shuffled about until she said, ‘I’m not taking “no” for an answer.’ Then she held out her hand and said, ‘Give me your phone.’

The moron gave her his phone; EvilCowDogSlutFace took it, pushed a few buttons, handed it back, and said, ‘I’ve programmed my name into your phone. Now you have no excuses.’

First, how the hell did she know how to programme her number into his phone? I hate using other people’s phones. I have no idea where the menu options are; I don’t know how to take it off predictive text, and half the time I end up erasing something important. But of course, perfect flirty girl knows all about gadgets. I bet HarryPotter just loved that.

So, that’s my shitty day, and now I’m going watch telly with HarryPotter and will him with my brain to forget about EvilCowDogSlutFace. I’m so happy that there’s only…

…21 days to go.

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