Kiwi

This is upon request of my pineapple girls… some more on the fruit bowl.

When I was a young girl, my mother would tell us that kiwi’s were special… that if you closed your eyes, and imagined any fruit, the kiwi would taste exactly like the fruit you had imagined. My two sisters and I would stand in our kitchen; eyes shut tightly and picture plump strawberries in our mind, attempting to manipulate the taste of the fleshy green fruit sitting on our tongue.

I now have a new type of kiwi in my life. He’s a small hairy little fucker in my office. Far from special, he is constantly in the throughs of attempting to alter who he is to impress (to no avail) those around him. Unlike Onion, I didn’t name this one. I wouldn’t have replaced a pleasant childhood memory with the likes of him.

Kiwi has distain for me, as I do for him. Although always professional, we do not acknowledge the existence of one another unless needed.

A colleague pondered the other day why every woman that meets kiwi seems to hate him. I explained to this colleague kiwi’s several remarks to me (while kiwi stared at my chest) of, “Wow it must be cold in here.” Not stopping until I told him as much as I have a sense of humor about things, I would prefer them not to be directed at me specifically. I’m sure that his pregnant wife at home (whom kiwi constantly brags about his fertility to our clients…eww) would appreciate the fact that he makes every woman he comes into contact with feel as though the need to take a shower and scrub off the disgust he has just covered them in.

Kiwi has (for what reason I am completely unsure) bragged in his girly-whiney voice about his conquests while serving in Kuwait, and the subsequent STD’s that he acquired from such ominous behavior.

What woman wouldn’t want to hang around such a fellow?

He has told stories about when he met his wife, and how he was actually dating someone else. When he came home from his first date with his wife, his girlfriend was there, so he took her outside and broke up with her… a true Romeo.

Recently kiwi decorated his car - He has some WT convertible, which does nothing but scream what a teeny-weeny his insecure ass has - It is now plastered with signage for kiwi’s newest, ‘get rich quick’ scheme it reads something similar to “LAUNCH” down the center of his hood and on his car doors in bright orange. What a man!

And again I say, "What woman wouldn't want to hang around such a fellow?"

I think I just threw up a little in my mouth…