Mr. Tap Dancing...Quite the Perv

I hate to write this entry really, because I previously had quite an
affinity for this particular member of our staff. But, alas, no more.

I went into the kitchen this afternoon to get some grape juice and Mr.
Tap Dancing was in the kitchen fishing around in the freezer. I call
him Mr. Tap Dancing because he runs a children's dance studio on the
weekends and used to dance in NY a long time ago. He's always talking
about the latest musical coming to town, showing us his favorite Fred
Astaire moves and recounting his glorious glamor days of dancing in 42nd
St. on Broadway. He's quite fun to have around, normally.

I'll admit, I do usually wear a higher-cut undershirt with the specific
top I have on today. (In a half-sleeping daze I apparently grabbed the
wrong one this morning.) That is NOT an excuse, however.

I walked into the kitchen, and Mr. Tap Dancing (who is about 2 inches
shorter than I) stared straight at my chest with a gross oggly gaze and
asked, "how are we this afternoon sweetie-pye."

Disgustedly glaring at him, I replied, "WE are falling asleep, and need
a drink."

Before I could pass him he lunged toward me. "Awweee, let's wake you
up!" he replied grabbing me into a bear hug, while I tried to pull
myself away.

Uck! May I just say, for the female species, there is nothing grosser
than having a guy stare at your chest and then try to bear hug you. I
don't care if he IS my boss. Next time I knee him. Mr. Tap Dancing
Perv from now on.

Note to self -- avoid kitchen in the PM.