And That's Why It Will Never Happen Jellos

So I’m at work today, and me and my co-worker ‘Jellos’ get kicked out of the conference room for a unexpected meeting. Well we didn’t expect it, obviously my boss did, as he was the one holding the meeting. We ourselves, had a meeting in the conference room scheduled twenty minutes after being kicked out, adding further to our surprise. The conference room scheduling, however, is neither here nor there; what I’m getting to is the person in which the meeting was scheduled for, a young cute as a button blond girl. Standing just over five feet in her baby blue wool vest and button-up white school-girl shirt, tight black pants and a glossy pair of standard black heels, she was quite the sight I tell you. After several debates as to why she was here, we determined (and by determined I mean we completely guessed, or more accurately, made up a fantasy) that she was going to be the newest addition to the office family.
As lovely as this girl is however, I felt it was necessary to not get too excited over nothing, to which Jellos argued with me. I of course argued back saying that it didn’t matter. When asked why, this was my response:

“Well things could easily go well. She looked very nervous and rather intimated; this could present a perfect opportunity to ease her into the work place. However this innocence and cutely shy behaviour means nothing. She could easily have a boyfriend of five years waiting at home for his nervous little girl to come back and tell him all about the job interview while they watch reruns of sex in the city and dine on egg noodles with stir fry; wearing his Abercrombie and Fiche polo shirt, capri pants, and indoor sandals, gently rubber her back and telling her that surely she has the job as they smile and glare into each others eyes while the sounds of old Janet Jackson gently play in the background as the sun slowly dips behind the horizon outside of their 21st storey balcony. This is the exact type of guy you see at 30 wearing a white sweater tied around his neck explaining how great of a polo player he is as he sips his sugar free ice tea and offers you one as he pulls a small decorative umbrella out of his breast pocket to complete the ideal drink; boastfully chatting away about the decorative floral arrangement he had installed on the borders of his front walkway as stands one hand in his pocket of his white Docker, fully creased, cuffed legged pants, staring off into the sunset beside you while waves gently lap against his waterfront property telling you that his life is working out just as he planned that one night when he was 6 after watching his first episode of the “The Love Boat”.”

Man, what a jerk