I'm on the road this month for trial in a case that, before the day I left, I had never heard of. Working with attorneys I've never met in a town where the people I do know work all day and head to the shore every weekend, I have been blessed with the opportunity to work closely with a fat girl from one of our other California offices. Her name is Katrina and she's a lazy-eyed Mormon. She's got graying, snaggled front teeth, the fashion sense of an 8-year old Down's Syndrome child, permed red hair, and a huge HUGE ass. She's the anti-viagra. Don't try to throw the football through the tire swing when she's around.
She wore denim capris the other day and I think I threw up in my mouth. There's nothing worse than inadvertantly looking up from what you are doing and catching a glance of a gigantic, denim-clad ass passing in front of you. It felt like I was staring into a denim sun. I quickly averted my eyes so as to avoid the onset of blindness. Unfortunately, all that did was direct my gaze toward her pale, sausage-like calves that--you could tell by the stubble pattern--had been shorn sometime that morning (undoubtedly by an industrial-grade Black & Decker lawn product). A little side note:
There is nothing more unappetizing than the freshly-shaved legs of a fat girl who doesn't get much sun. Because her skin is translucent, you can see the black hair follicles that have retreated just below the skin after being cut by her (Fat)Lady Bic. Their retreat actually leaves tiny dimples in the skin that make Fat Girl's legs look like they've been walked on by golf shoes. It's a horrible, horrible sight and one I don't wish on anyone.
Anyhow, as I fought off yet another wave of fat-enduced nausea, my eyes fell upon another horrible sight--her feet (Jesus Christ, I can't believe I am forcing myself to relive this experience. Isn't this what they make incest-survivors and rape victims do in therapy to get past their mental blocks?) Her toes looked like vienna sausages with knuckles and hair. HAIR!! And, like most fat girls swimming in denial, she had her 10-pack of vienna sausages bound inside a pair of Payless Shoe Source sandals that were at least 2 sizes too small. They looked like corsets, the straps of which dug into the pasty flesh of her feet like butcher's twine around a pair of stuffed pork tenderloins.
This is what I am sitting across from everyday all day for the entire month of July. I can't even make eye contact with this land manatee because her left eye looks toward the door. LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M SPEAKING TO YOU! GODDAMNIT LOOK AT ME! WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?! THERE'S NOTHING OVER THERE! I'M OVER HERE, IN. FRONT. OF. YOU.
Posted by nils at 9:09 PM