Whoa.

When did that happen?

When did I become such a perfect little apple polisher at work?

I'm usually pretty good at telling people in no uncertain terms, often using single syllable, good old fashioned Anglo Saxon terms what I think of them when I don't like them very much.

Last night, my nerve must have failed me, because I was trapped in the office with a bunch of the most tedious, moronic, dull, uninteresting people I have ever met in all my life. [insert Tree's patented glare-over-the-top-of-the-frames look]

Dear god these people were dull. The company I work for has recently been bought by a much larger company. Last night was drinkies with the local branch to show off our new digs and introduce ourselves.

It should be pointed out that we have met some of these people earlier and, as Strawberry Fields pointed out to me today, at the time they felt the need to tell us how much fun they were.

If you have to tell people that...

I want you to do something for me. Have a look at the picture I have put in my profile. Go on, I'll wait here for you...

Now, do I look like the kinda girl who needs to change her knickers at the thought of fly fishing? Especially when said fishing is conducted by someone with a Scottish accent who allows you to smoke the fish right there on the boat?

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm sure there are Xangers out there who could think of nothing better. But do I look like that kinda girl?

No.

I'd rather poke myself in the eyes with chopsticks.

And I'd rather eat a plate of live spiders than stand next to some twonk raving about the joys of it.

So what was it that stopped me from telling the twonk exactly what I thought of him, his mate with the Scottish accent and his smoked Tasmanian fish?

This I don't understand.

I should have poured my beer over him only it would have been a waste of good beer.

I need to sharpen the edge of my tongue. I'm obviously not nearly acidic enough. Or maybe he was too stupid to realise that I wasn't interested. Was walking away to get nibblies while he was mid-sentence not enough?

Or maybe I was so busy thinking about how to kill him that he interpreted the look of pleasure on my face as interest.

All I know is that there is no way I'm ever getting trapped like that again. Never ever, ever. And I think I may even carry a small knife on my person just to make sure of it.