Let’s Talk About The Weather

The weather is a topic I prefer to avoid. It’s absolutely pointless. Unless I’m having my hair cut, then it’s a necessity. Because hairdressers are always asking what your plans are for the weekend. And there’s simply not enough weekends (past or present) to get me through a wash, cut and dry. So unless we enjoy same TV shows, or share an interest in silence, the weather will no doubt manage to cut in.

We all understand that the weather is only brought up when there’s nothing much else to talk about. It can be called upon to break the ice or simply pass the time. It’s the king of small talk. Why? Because It’s not difficult to know about the weather, just look outside and you’re instantly up-to-date. And it’s pretty difficult to offend anybody in a conversation about the weather. The only thing you can disagree on is the temperature. But it’s unlikely that you’re going to get into a fist fight over whether you prefer the warm or the cold. Since you’re reading this, I guess you have nothing better to do. So I’m going to explain why the cold weather, trumps the warm weather.

Am I crazy for thinking this? Beaches, pool parties and bikinis: they’re all linked with warm weather. This is an error of association, you see. People enjoy being warm. They don’t enjoy being cold. Simple. Which is why winter takes the cake. The experience of warming up gives far more pleasure than that of cooling down. Think about it. In summer, when you’re at the beach or swimming pool, you’re practically forced into the cold water to cool down. You could be boiling hot and you have to be dared or pushed into the water. ‘1.2,3 jump!’ They scream. If you’re like me, you rarely ever jump on three. And why the hell would you? It’s like leaving the warmth of summer and plunging into winter with one single leap. You have to be pushed in, against your will. See, here’s the thing: if you’re cold, you don’t need to be dared to move closer to the heater or fire. You volunteer. Nobody who is cold and shivering dips their toe under a warm blanket, before snuggling on the couch in front of the TV. And you definitely don’t count to three before jumping into a warm bed on a brisk winter’s night, right? I didn’t think so. Anyway, enough about the weather. What have you got planned this weekend?

The Cubicle Stand Off

Three men sit patiently with their pants around their ankles. It’s a cubicle stand off (or sit off). Tension mounts. Stomachs groan. Nobody knows who they’re up against within the vague privacy of their cubicle walls. Even so, nobody wants to make the first bowl movement, or pass wind within earshot of the other. So they wait. And wait. And wait. Then one man caves. He flushes the toilet; unable to cope with the pressure, he leaves without letting it go. He’ll have to hold it in until the coast is clear, which could be all day, it’s a busy office, and coffee flows freely.

It’s down to just… The door opens. Someone new enters. Both men hold their breath. Luckily, he unzips. He’s just taking a leak. This will buy them some time, not that they needed it. The new comer is oblivious to the dual and lets one rip. Both men silently applaud his bravery, whilst clutching their knees in jealousy. The man leaves without washing his hands. Both men ponder his identity.

They’ve been missing from their desks for over 20 minutes now. That’s enough time to warrant suspicion. Nothing they haven’t dealt with before. Both have survived investigation from desk neighbours over the course of their careers. Even so, the inability to defecate in public has cost them great jobs in the past.

Neither man moves any closer to letting go. What they’re holding inside now is much more than a plate of lunch that has overstayed its welcome. No, they’re holding onto their dignity. They’ve waited this long, what’s another five minutes? Then the fire alarm sounds, activating the sprinklers. Sitting their drenched, neither man moves. Instead, they wait. And wait. And wait.