next top bottle

The security guards at my office are lovely -- really -- even if they're a bit forward at times. Even if they do tend to work lines I wouldn't sign after three dirty martinis on a night I was actually, erm, buying, if you get my drift. So certainly not while flashing my badge, head down, quick smile thanks, into work. But then this morning, from one of the guards, this:

"You look like a bottle."

Which slowed, if didn't stop me. Odd of him to point it out, I'm thinking. A bit inappropriate perhaps. But, I do. I do look like a bottle. A little thrill of recognition. I am seen for what I am! I am accurately defined! I am a 5'1", brown-haired, bottle-shaped girl in desperate need of an eyebrow waxing and it is good.

It made my day, I'm not ashamed to say.

And then it struck me that the guard had a cold.

oh.

what. ever.

And then it struck me that I was on the elevator and ten floors up before I'd figured it out.

oi.

No bottle, I. Though apparently, to my dismay, just as clever.