She's talking to you, man. She's talking, and you're replying with little more than an awkward smile. She's making an effort!

And it's really not like you to notice something like that.

I mean, when a woman wearing shorts so-short-they-barely-deserve-the-name bends over in front of you to put something down, and stays like that until the boxes are just so in the corner ... Seriously. And you just hand her the other two boxes and walk away because you think the front door might be open.

And then she comes back up front and offers more conversation, to which you reply with yet more awkward smiles and the occasional word you can't remember – when, the entire time, right up to when she gets in her car and drives away, you're thinking of saying "Underground Sound? You mean that Kim Kardashian thing in City Centre is today? If I had to go to that, I'd want to shoot myself with a finger gun, too."

Really, Brad, what the hell is with that? Just takes a bit of willpower to open your mouth, right? So pumped after watching Weird Science, and then one o'clock comes around and your tongue might as well be three times bigger and you fucked it up again. So now you're forced to come in to work on Wednesday and hope your supervisor's not around so you won't have an audience.

Bah!

</introspection>