TWO BRAINS - NOT ENOUGH BLOOD AND THE WORLD OF WOMAN THROUGH MALE EYES!

So how often do you receive a phone call asking how obvious you are on a scale of one to ten?
I would guess not very often, well I have just had a call from the mail room asking me that very question. ‘Are you a blonde or a brunette,’ he asked.
‘Neither, I am red,’
‘Ah fiery then… Good I like fiery ones…’he replied.
Apparently I came off the phone looking rather confused and the men in the close vicinity were studying my expression and pointed out that I was blushing.
‘So what is making you pull that face?’ they asked.
‘On the scale of 1-10 how obvious are you?’
For a while there was silence. The general consensus of opinion was that most people in the office were about a five. So why was I nominated an eight?
A few minutes later, our trusty mail man turned up with my book delivery… Yes I have my books delivered to my desk – how luxury is that? In truth I have every delivered to the office because I can’t take the delivery at home.
“Ah a fiery one…” said the mail man.
I shook my head, “I’m not fiery…”
“Is she fiery?” he asked my male colleagues.
Both nodded, “really fiery!”
“I knew it!” he said.
Thanks!
Anyway, whilst rummaging under the desk I heard a chap say ‘boobs,’ under his breath. There was an elongated silence and all the men in the vicinity stopped typing, breathing or making random comments. It was eerie to say the least, so I popped up and looked around. The mesmerised look of a man who had been hypnotised was the only way I could describe the facial expressions of all the men in close proximity. In that moment I was struck by a bolt of inspirational lightening and it was then that I identified ‘the male compulsive blurt. ‘‘Sorry?’
‘Boobs,’ he said with a whisper and a nod in a certain direction. Admittedly there was a pair jiggling past in too looser bra. Two angry ferrets in sacks wrestled and were intent on escape.
I turned to my other male colleague who was smiling and had a similar expression on his face.
‘Busted!’
It was then I was provided with an insight into the male office view. So it seems that whenever any woman walks into the room the men have a tendency to imagine her in the way that nature intended.
“So what every woman who comes into the room - you know… You imagine?”
The pair smiled a very knowing male smile.
“That is a male secret. We have disclosed something very precious to you. You are now an honory bloke!’
Great!
“So what all women?”
“All women except those that are ugly or over sixty,” said the office cheeky.
“Really?”
“Actually all women…”
I studied them both and the pair grinned as a couple of women walked through the office carrying coffee. In that moment, I glimpsed the world through their eyes…
“So what about the blurt? Is it kind of like when you say something before you mind filters it.”
The pair shook their heads.
“That is just women who do that,” came the response.
“Okay then… Can you justify that?”
“Men think before they speak, but the blurt is different. It is a male reflex action that enables other men to know there is potential visual absorption in the area, just in case they miss the display. Look at it kind of like a call. In fact it is a natural tribal instinc - you would not want your friends to miss out on the potential sight.”
“What like when women go to the loo together?”
The men shook their heads, I was obviously a woman and still could not step into the mind of a man – even if I had been privilege to become the honorary bloke.
“So meetings…”
“Let me just say if you walk into a room full of men you are not likely to wow them with intelligence. We are men and we are visual – you should know that!
I glanced at them both and suddenly it all made sense. I call it the two brains not enough blood syndrome. Obviously there is only a certain amount of blood in a man’s body and when any type of twitching occurs in the nether regions, the blood slips from his cerebral cortex to the alternative location for thought.
“This kind of thought only comes with the male appendage. Think of it like the appendage being the hard-wear and the blurt, in terms of boosooka recognition, is the software…”
I sat for a while brooding about how different the male mind is from a woman’s and came up with a few morals of the story.
Moral of the story: To avoid being envisioned naked at work - wear clothes that contain mirrors.
Second moral of the story: If you don’t want that kind of attention move at great speed erratically flapping your arms.
Third moral of the story: If you want that kind of attention do the can-can as you walk into the office. Or maybe possibly shout ‘here I am boys!’ When doing the can-can make sure you have not left your knickers behind!

Oh and before we go any further I have to share my amazing linguistic discovery. After returning to the office after a run at the gym I noticed a general air of doom. It seemed that room had a grey cloud of Friday afternoon boredom descending upon it. And then it hit me they were all suffering from BOREDOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
That little combination will be milked until the literary cow is dry!opportunity. Are you suffering from boredooooom? I feel a bit of boredooooooooooooom coming on! They mystery of the angry hamster and the office of boredooooooooom! Right that is off my chest now. I feel better.
I have had my escape from mundanity! Hooorah!

IN THE JAWS OF A FRIENDLY PITBULL!

Evening escapades…
Well as we know I am currently working on the Resonance but thanks to the world of technology and my net book I can take a stroll down to the pier, edit, people watch and eat a sausage. There is a diner on Boscombe pier, which sells rather tasty long sausages… I just walked up to the counter and the chap smiled at me… ‘I remember you – you’re the solitary sausage eater.’
What does that mean? That I am solitary or that I ate a lonely sausage… If so… I apologise now – I did not realise the sausage had emotions… Gosh – guilt trip! The thing is I have not had one of those solitary sausages for dinner for eight months so why have my sausage eating habits made such an impression on the man? I certainly hadn’t eaten one of his products near him, so there was no witnessing of the masticatory act.
‘Baps,’ he said.
What did he mean baps?
‘You don’t eat them with baps. You eat the sausage by itself. That is why I remember you. Dogs usually do that.’
Is it me, or was that not so complimentary? Therefore, not only had he remembered my sausage eating habits but also he now had likened them to a dog…. Can it get any better?
‘When I say dogs – the dog owners buy the solitary sausage for their dogs.’
I wonder if that makes them sausage dogs…
I just had one of ‘those’ thoughts – I just saw a French poodle and wondered if dogs have accents or bark in different languages… I wonder how a Chinese dog sounds in comparison to a Peruvian.
Well after such stimulating insight into dog owner’s habits, I have taken a seat on the pier deck. The beach has numerous sunshine loving opportunists who have made the dash down here after work too. To my right the world of chav is manifesting and multiplying as they do. Each carries a beer can, wears a tracksuit and is already spawning a child without even trying. To my left families wipe sand from children, attempt to control their children or simply shout at them… That is what happens when the sun shines in Beautiful Boscombe!
Boscombe pier is a place that is a hub of human zoological display. We have numerous runners, posers, drinkers, randomers and dog walkers all amalgamated into one specific area – next to the surf reef which is the kings new clothes of surfing. Oooh hang on I think I have just spotted boy totty with tight botty… oh typical – girlfriend trailing along behind pretending that she loves doing the 10k run when in actual fact she could better focus her energies on power shopping…
Oh I do love it here. Boscombe pier is just a walk down the hill from my flat and is a place that inspires… I do love Boscombe even though it is considered the grittiest part of Bournemouth… Where else can you people spot, be remembered for your sausage eating habits and where else can people shout the word relax in an aggressive tone? Where else can weirdo scream expletives at their non-existent dogs named Scampi? I am a lucky woman to live here…. There is so much to inspire my writing including the plastic orange sprayed women and the men with stupid haircuts…There are people on tandem bikes, drunken teenagers chasing each other and a dog owner trying to stop his pit-bull terrier from eating a King Charles Spaniel. He was trying to justify it by saying ’she is just very friendly,’ whilst prizing the small dog’s head from its mouth… Maybe he should have bought his dog a solitary sausage…. Maybe that sausage could actually save the world from all its ills.
The reality of this place is simply brilliant!
Right I have just been kicked off the pier… Apparently it is closing time.
Unfortunately my sausage reflection has had the chop and the chap next me is using glasses to drum the most annoying tune. It isn’t even a tune, more of an aggravating ensemble of noise… See… Where else can you get that? Actually, I think I am going to go back to editing… The resonance is in progress and I want to finish it so that I can read it in book form…
Woops… Maybe not, I have just seen one of my male friends in his van – I think the reality is more likely to be - visit the pub, discuss life, watch more people and just be ‘normal’. Ha! Then I will do some more editing… Just a little bit…