Not as nearly as bizarro and "News of the World!" as it sounds, just a thought about what really gets me down about working for the Federal Government. The lack of ambition of most mid-level managers, you ask? Nah. The inability to get someone from HR on the phone because they only work from 10:30-2:00? Not that big a deal. The egregious gaming of the system I see every day but can't report because I'd probably be the one who got fired? I could go on and on.
What really gets me is when I'm in the ladies locker room at the gym (located in our building), and I'm getting dressed or undressed, and I have to say, I have some mighty cute underwear. It's a thing of mine, I could be a nun and I'd still sport a matching set of bra and cute tongas. But then I look around (and looking around is a crime unto itself, we must all look down and pretend that no one has any genitalia whatsoever) and what do I see, on the old women, the middle-aged women, and the psuedo, could-be-hot girls my age?
Some serious granny panties. I mean, droopy, washed out suckers with no elastic in them at all. We might as well be hanging out on Coney Island in 1920, these could easily pass for bloomers. I mean, what gives? Did I not get the memo when I joined the government which came with regulation-issue granny panties in three bland colors? Girls, women, grandmas, is it that hard to find some cute drawers? If I'm feeling fat or pale or dull or it's Tuesday, nothing cheers me up like knowing I have some expensive La Perla on underneath my jeans and snow boots. How can you possibly feel like anything BUT an automaton when you have enough material under your clothes to parachute you to safety in the event of a fire? The building isn't even that tall, so what's your excuse then?
It's depressing - not just because these women think that boring is better and don't get that one of the best things about being female is getting to be a girl when you want. I feel even worse for the men they go home to, because I thought we were fighting against burkhas??
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