Eunice (she made me do it)

Eunice is a nice and pleasant and sweet girl who tells me she’s a nice and pleasant and sweet girl. This is only fair because, like I said, she is a nice and pleasant and sweet girl. You may be wondering what makes me say this. Well, she did. Though that’s not the only reason.

Of all my colleagues, she’s the one I talk with the most. I’d say we’re more friends than colleagues (I still have only the faintest idea of what she does here). Kudos must go to her for being able to endure the inanity I throw at her on a daily basis. Very few have the ability to ignore, filter and tolerate me while remaining sane and actually getting some work done. But then again, she throws just as much crap back at me so we’re even. You could say our conversations are largely exercises in excrement tennis. Very enriching, I assure you. She has a killer backhand.

As someone who has the word ‘nice’ (granted, it’s pronounced ‘nees’) in her name, it’s not surprising that she’s been awfully helpful in the last few months. For example, she’s lent me a pair of extremely funky PJ bottoms for the D&D. True red carpet stuff this. Pictures when I can bear the shame. She’s put a banana on my table, as everyone else seems wont to do that these days. She’s also been the only one game to walk out far for lunch which has allowed me to escape the muck they serve at the foodcourt downstairs.

And being the wonderful girl that she is, I’m sure there are a few other things which she means to offer me soon such as the identities of Messrs. Fowlplay and Ballocks and a treat to a sumptuous crab feast. My thanks go out in advance. The end.

I now await the “why you write about her never write about me?” cries from my five other readers.