I was going to bung this in The Swamp but then I thought it's not actually Swamp worthy so I'd put it here instead. (It's not Swampworthy because The Swamp has a certain style about it, my blog doesn't - it's just me airing the windmills of my mind.

It's just that today there's a fucking cyclone happening. Here, cop this...

I landed a new job the other week.

Just me, the boss and three other blokes but we are the foundation of a whole new department and I'm pegged to co-run my half of the arrangement with a few extra responsibilities thrown in for good measure.

The first of the new arrivals landed on us on Wednesday.

One other bloke, two women and a...

May I be struck down dead for saying this...

A goddess.

Unbelievable.

What's more unbelievable is the fact I'm telling this to all of you.

Rat, the consummate misogynist going wobbly at the knees over a woman. But wait, there's more.

And it's worse.

She is not only mind bogglingly attractive - not in the Cindy Crawford, Kate Moss sense of the word - but in that down to earth, downright earthy sense of the word. In other words, that eminently obtainable sort of attractive that makes thinking of anything else damn near impossible. Yeah so?

Well, besides being distractingly sensational in the visage department, she's also got a stunning personality. I mean she's like Instant Mate - just add coinciding presence and there's an instant friendship. She's impossible not to like. Distractingly impossible to ignore.
But wait there's even worse.

She's younger than me. I'm not being reality distortingly attracted to an older woman for once, this one is much younger than I am. I checked. I actually asked how old she is when we were riding up in the lift together. I know you're dying to know how old she is but suffice to say she is well and truly legal even if the thoughts flooding my head are really really immoral.
And she's so damn friendly, bugger it. I don't care that the html tags probably won't work, you get the idea.

She has her tongue pierced too and I've seen Pulp Fiction so I know what a tongue piercing is all about. Does it get any worse than this?

Well, no.

She is unbelievably distracting, that's true BUT...

Like the newsagent's wife - I haven't told you about her yet - she has one fatal flaw.
Despite the Oh God Attraction hereinafter referred to as the O.G.A., she is a weeny bit on the umm dumb side. Not much, just enough to bung up a weeny red flag.

And yes, she's a little bit blonde too. Just a bit. More mousey brown than blonde but enough blonde to be unnervingly noticeable. Numbingly dumb, just not enough to be mind-numbingly dumb. Only enough numbingly dumb to dampen to a degree the throwing up of a major red flag.
It's just fortunate I have really good eyesight.

Damn, she's so cute though. I mean unbelievably cute. Not perfectly cute like Meg Ryan just enough to make me want to throw a herd of Meg Ryans out of the way to sit and stare at my new workmate until my really good eyesight becomes a distant memory.

My other source of refuge is she can't spell to save herself. I have the honour to enter all her work into the system for despatch to the branches and her lack of any skill whatsoever in the legibility stakes is something to behold in itself. She can do her job, no doubt about that - which, of course makes it worse for me because of the O.G.A. because if she couldn't do her job, I'd get really bloody annoyed really bloody quickly - and she doesn't do her job in eye range of me - because if she did, there's no way I'd be able to do my job, I'd just sit and stare at her all day.
She has a smile to die for and her laugh, God in Heaven! Bugger that too. Why wasn't she born with a hare lip. There's nothing inherently wrong with a cleft palate unless you actually happen to have one and it serves beautifully to ensure you will never be endowed with anything approaching an O.G.A. thereby sparing me the inconvenience of being attracted on an Oh God scale.

I must introduce her, somehow, to the kid round the corner. He's the same age as she is. If he hooked up with her, that would spare me the thought that somehow she might actually be distressingly single and available. He's also got a massive chick-magnet: A BMW.
Wonder if he'd do me that one big favour.

I knew he'd come in useful one day if I made sure I kept on his good side all these years. Who knows, he may even thank me properly for the introduction. Mind you, he might not be enamoured of

Nah, he would be. He's like all 19 year olds; fast, loud and horny as all get out. What real red-blooded male wouldn't leap all over a like minded godess with a huge O.G.A. factor.

Bloody hell. Why me?

I love this job. I get to be exactly the way I was meant to be and then this happens and now mother nature is having her say and she doesn't care to be ignored and I'm putting too many ands in one sentence.

My job will save me. It's more important than the sudden and pervasive quantities of testerone streaming through my giblets and I will remain steadfastly professional towards her and the others in my team.

I will. I am rehearsing a mantra for Monday morning...

Mmmmmmmmmmm My Job....... mmmmmmmmmm my job.....

More to follow, no doubt...