Soggy Bottom Girls

In the spirit of great and long-lasting friendship, I have been afforded the pleasure of guest commentary this evening. My stylish, gorgeous, talented, Beyonce-like friend, uhhhh, we'll just call her "N," has decided to post some thoughts. It's because she can shake it like Beyonce and shares, um, well similar assets.

**Note, the following represents the opinions of one writer and are not necessarily shared by anyone other than that writer. Not necessarily…**

This is pretty bad. Almost right up there with liars, sleazy con artists, and middle-aged men who cheat on their wives after twenty years of marriage. Bastards! Anyway, like I said, it’s pretty bad. Immediately I am under pressure and I don’t know how to react. Should I run? Fake being sick? Smile that awkward I care smile? I just hate it; actually I despise it - when a co-worker brings their baby to the office.

Seriously, I know exactly what you are thinking. What a nasty woman, what could be cuter, right? Guess she won’t be having any kids. (Though I have) Well that’s not the case, I am kind and good, but I was the one who never really liked babies or thought they were cute, let alone ever be trusted to baby-sit.

Anyhow… what is one to do in this situation? This woman brought her baby to the office and I am suddenly supposed to think it’s a little cutie. It’s not. And I am not kidding… He’s not even remotely chubby, he has no hair, and this outfit is just plain, old ugly. Now she decides to bring her germ-infested baby to my office and hands me the Purell like there are germs on ME. Um hello, you brought the kid into my space. I didn’t ask for it and now you actually think I want to hold it and be all goo goo gaa gaa as we bond.

So now I am holding this hot mess of a baby. The kid won’t stop crying and everyone is looking at me like I did something wrong since a second ago he was all bubbly and smiles. And then it really gets interesting. I suddenly notice a glimmer, a sort of wink and spark and think, well look at that, the kid is warming up to me, maybe I am in control of this hot mess, when in fact, the reality of the situation is a literal warming sensation on my arms that, for a moment, clouded my understanding. I look up and see the horror on everyone’s face, my senses kick in and I realize what happened. That little piece of bleep freed himself of the day’s gas and pissed all over me!

All I can pray is they know it was the kid with all the noises and smells and not me! However, I'm not sure I am that lucky. Great, funkin fantastic. Either way it’s the first week on the job and now I will forever be the girl who got pissed on.