In Training

I just wanted to take a moment to revel in happy memories…

Ok, now let’s get down to business. I’m in a training class for a couple of weeks and there’s this girl in it who I affectionately call Talky McTalkerson because she eats all the time. I’m just kidding – she yaks on and on like a crank fiend. Seriously! She will derail the class with some lame point, that has the barest connection to what we were talking about to begin with, and pound it home to the point of pain. She has no clue what a blathering idiot she sounds like – Strike that! She does! She often apologizes for going on and on, so she fucking does it on purpose.

Here’s an example of her interrupting a lesson: "I was watching a movie last night set in the tropics, and looked like so much fun. I’ve never been to the tropics before. A couple of years ago I went to San Diego so that’s as tropical as I’ve gotten. You know, it’s weird, when I made less money I had more chances to travel. Last year I went to San Francisco and Colorado, but I’d love to go somewhere with like blue waters and it’s warm all the time. And you know, while I’ve never been a huge country music fan, I’d love to go to Nashville. Country music people just seem so nice you know?"

She’s still talking. And talking fast.

The only reasoning I can come up with for this behavior is:

1)Talky McTalkerson is, as mentioned above, a crank head. I have lived with and known Crystal Meth users and I know how they tend to get a little, shall we say, chatty. If this were the true reason though I think she would be a little thinner.

2)Talky McTalkerson is attention starved. I love these people; if by love you mean a desire to beat mercilessly about the face and then rub cumin into the open wounds. Why cumin? Smells nice…

3)Talky McTalkerson likes the sound of her own annoying, already smoke raspy at 23 voice and is reveling back there in some sort audio-sexual masturbatory fantasy.

It’s taking everything in me to keep from screaming, "shut the fuck up you annoying little bitch. I would actually like to get out of this room in the next frigging year. Oh and by the fucking by, no one cares about what you used to do in your café. Nor do we care what you got at the flippin grocery store, or what flippin grocery store it was. The next time you feel like talking try putting your fist in your asshole instead!" The only thing that has stopped me is that at first I didn’t want to see her cry.

Now I kinda do…