incestuous

my co-worker is fond of certain phrases. most of them i find hilarious. for example, she'll be chatting about her incorrigible children and husband, explaining their reluctance to do virtually any sort of cleaning. they'll typically counter her requests with some sort of excuse like, "why do we have to clean up? it's not like anyone's coming over!" to which she replies, "oh, right, why don't we just crap on the floor then!? it's not like anyone's coming over!"

my place of business is full of not-so-secretive affairs and affections and trysts. it's practically rare to not be involved in one if you're not young-ish and either single or married. i've only been working there for about 2 years and i've been the subject of a rather heated gossip story that even entertained me when i was able to grab snipets of the newest developments. my co-worker and i would discuss this and often, ever loyal to her verbiage, would settle upon the summation, "what did i tell you kristine? teachers are so incestuous!" nevermind her misuse or archaic use of the word, because it seems to fit with the kind of things that go on in our building.

allow me to attempt a character sketch. of course, it will be full of belittlement and condescention, but it's all warranted i assure you.

there is a woman who is present in my building for half of the day, every day. her job is not really with my company and so her time with us is drawing to a close this coming june. she is clearly and verbally unhappily married with three children. she teaches religion during the week and ritualistically carts her chubby children to and from their various sporting events while her husband is either working late or home making dinner. she doesn't cook. she bought him pots and pans for christmas.

her body is justifiable. she's one of those women who always wears a heel to make up for her height and who can get away with being overweight since most of her fat resides in her breasts. she has very thin legs, and often flaunts them with inappropriately short skirts being chased by tall black boots. her tops are usually baggy, but also low. she tans regularly and has frosted hair. she's addicted to lip balm and often begins or ends a conversation with nervous, unsettling laughter.

her fascination with her perception by men is most clear when she talks to me about her obsession with white teeth. she always has a toothbrush and toothpaste in her knockoff prada bag along with a ziplock baggie. the baggie is for when she's in the car and brushing, so she has somewhere to spit out her oral bubble bath.

she loves her husband because he's her best friend and could never ever see them getting a divorce. he doesn't give her sex and that is the single most disrupting factor in their union. sex. so she attends sex parties. she goes out to bars with other middle-aged and younger men and women while he stays at home, bitter. he's a recovering alcoholic.

she taunts our married co-workers with blatant flirtation and then brushes it off with a mention of her children or her devout beliefs. but she also sends dirty emails. she plays dirty songs for the men and tells them that the words make her think of them.

she tries to befriend me and i feel badly that i cannot fake some sort of minor respect for her. she is pitiful. the kind of pity that condones hostility and caustic words.

i wonder if she knows she's going to hell...