Big Butt Nightmare Blues
02/22/2005 05:34 p.m.
Note: Written 12/7/04

Whoa is me. The company Christmas party has turned out a near disaster for your humble narrator. Fate and fortune can be most cruel.

Throughout the evening, I was the perfect diplomat, smiling knowingly, agreeing enthusiastically, spouting phrases like, “I’m right with you on that, Roberto!” and “I think you are on to something with that, Louise!”

I even delivered the following to Wallace in the proper context: “Well Wally, I say we lay out that little jewel of an idea of yours, run it up the flag pole, and see who the hell salutes it!”

On the dance floor, whirling and twirling, making appropriately intense facial expressions, I was a regular Gene Kelly (just laughin’, and singin’, in the rain…).

While I danced with one of the company “Team Leaders,” Polly, back-to-back songs dedicated to an appreciation of women with “big butts” were played. Though they were dreadful tunes, I twitched and leapt like a worm on a hot rock.

Feeling devilish, gay, and light with the spirit of the festivities, I said to Polly, “May I say something inappropriate?”

She twisted her face peculiarly and uttered a reluctant, “Yes.”

It was really too late to turn back and I just knew she would dig my clever insight, so I said what was on my mind.

“That Bonita sure has a big butt.”

(Bonita is a co-worker with an unusually rotund rump. The rest of her body is
proportioned normally, but her outback is tall, wide, and protrudes a good three
feet. I have no idea where she finds suitable trousers. I suspect they are custom
made.)

Polly kind of flinched her head, “humphed,” and snarled with disapproval.

“But it’s a very nice butt!” I said, attempting to lessen the impact.

All day at work today, I cower in my cubicle, expecting the call from personnel because
the “team leader” ratted me out for my inappropriate remark.

I plan to counter by threatening to sue over just how disturbed and disoriented I became when forced to endure consecutive songs detailing an appreciation of the female derričre played at a company sponsored function.

And there goes Bonita now, rustling past my cubicle, her big cargo swaying like an overloaded tractor trailer highballing down a curvy country road!

And darned if the Human Resources Director didn’t just pass, scowling, directing her dagger eyes at me!

Impending doom!

Perhaps now would be the time to pursue my dream job of Bowling Alley Attendant.

But I can imagine the difficulty in finding suitable employment with this seedy and shameful skeleton in my closet.

Prospective Employer: “Mr. Hill, I see you were dismissed by your previous employer. Can you elaborate?”

A sheepish me: “A, well, it was because I said that Bonita has a big butt…”

Prospective Employer: “Next!”

Whoa is me.

Impending doom.

PS: I like normal sized butts.