Frijoles y huevos
Today I finished reading SJ's blog. She is the inspiration for this post. If MPH is the Blog Jesus, and Pops is, well... Pops (no need for a title, his name says it all), then certainly
SJ is my Blog Muse.
There's this guy that I work with (technically he is my boss, but he knows better than to try to tell me what to do) who sits across from me. I've addressed this before, but I know that I didn't express how horrid he is very well at all. Since I cussed him out, he has been better with not breaking my stuff and not arguing with me about things he doesn't understand. He has NOT been better about talking to me when I am trying to get some sleep, trying to watch a movie, trying to chat/email my loved ones or about his flatulence.
Since I decided to call him the Talking Guy, we've gotten a new officer here. I made the mistake of telling him that I am originally from Louisiana. Big Mistake. Now, EVERYTHING I do at work is done to the sound of his voice. He's a nice enough guy, although a bit frustrating. He's completely aware of this fact also. He looks dead at you while he's talking, until he realizes that you aren't paying attention to what he's saying. Then he'll look away and his tone will drop, but he will continue on until he is finished with whatever three hour conversation he is having with himself. I'd turn him on to blogging if I wasn't doing it in cognito, myself. Right now he's still looking at me. Sometimes I will look up at him just to make it a little confusing as to whether or not I'm listening. In light of this new officer I am crowning him as the new Talking Guy.
Now we need a new name for the original TG. I was thinking that since he can't stop shitting himself I was going to call him Funk Beast. Now when I originally wrote about FB, some readers left comments noting that sometimes you should be able to fart at work. Under normal circumstances I would whole-heartedly agree, but you people do not know the horror. To give you an idea of what it's like, cut some of your hair off and then burn it. Then get a very hairy man to shit all over it and toss in some smashed garlic. Then mix it up, put it in a bucket and hang it around your neck, occasionally stirring it and heating it with your lighter. This is about the level of aromatic pleasure I put up with every day.
The new TG (From now on, just TG) finally looked away.
Anyway, go check out SJ's blog.
SJ is my Blog Muse.
There's this guy that I work with (technically he is my boss, but he knows better than to try to tell me what to do) who sits across from me. I've addressed this before, but I know that I didn't express how horrid he is very well at all. Since I cussed him out, he has been better with not breaking my stuff and not arguing with me about things he doesn't understand. He has NOT been better about talking to me when I am trying to get some sleep, trying to watch a movie, trying to chat/email my loved ones or about his flatulence.
Since I decided to call him the Talking Guy, we've gotten a new officer here. I made the mistake of telling him that I am originally from Louisiana. Big Mistake. Now, EVERYTHING I do at work is done to the sound of his voice. He's a nice enough guy, although a bit frustrating. He's completely aware of this fact also. He looks dead at you while he's talking, until he realizes that you aren't paying attention to what he's saying. Then he'll look away and his tone will drop, but he will continue on until he is finished with whatever three hour conversation he is having with himself. I'd turn him on to blogging if I wasn't doing it in cognito, myself. Right now he's still looking at me. Sometimes I will look up at him just to make it a little confusing as to whether or not I'm listening. In light of this new officer I am crowning him as the new Talking Guy.
Now we need a new name for the original TG. I was thinking that since he can't stop shitting himself I was going to call him Funk Beast. Now when I originally wrote about FB, some readers left comments noting that sometimes you should be able to fart at work. Under normal circumstances I would whole-heartedly agree, but you people do not know the horror. To give you an idea of what it's like, cut some of your hair off and then burn it. Then get a very hairy man to shit all over it and toss in some smashed garlic. Then mix it up, put it in a bucket and hang it around your neck, occasionally stirring it and heating it with your lighter. This is about the level of aromatic pleasure I put up with every day.
The new TG (From now on, just TG) finally looked away.
Anyway, go check out SJ's blog.
8 Comments:
I can't believe you read my whole blog. I am humbled. And thanks for your recent comment (to an old post). You said something like "I know you don't like 'I agree with you' comments..." Hmmm. Since when do I not like people agreeing with me? Uh...never! :) Thanks again though.
P.S. It's never okay to fart at work. Like, never. Don't let decorum leave us, people.
All this consternation and upset at people talking to you... are you sure you don't have Asperger's syndrome? I wish I did. It sounds like a great get-out-of-social-situations-free card.
I used to work with this one dude who had a real nasty habit of coming to work already reeking of ass. We called him "Bog Man". He never really caught onto though, which is weird since we'd chant "Booooooog maaaaaaan" whenever he came into the room.
Well it's 3am and I got called in to fix the servers. It took me about 20 seconds to fix once I got in (the length of time it takes to run the .bat that fixes what was wrong with it). Tomorrow I will give you all the grisly details. For now though I have no idea what Asperger's syndrome is, but if it makes me not have to deal with overtalkative farting people then ALRIGHT! Give me another dose! I'll have to investigate tomorrow.
I'm really not an angry person, ask Lubba.
No, he's not an angry person at all. It's one of the genes that I wish I would have had the opportunity to get dibs on, but it didn't work out quite that way. He's usually really laid back and takes most things in stride.
If you crazy kids continue to amp up links to "Heightened Thoughts" and downgrade links to "Pops' Bucket" I'll buy you both a sundae.
I have a friend just like Talking Guy. She will call and talk for an hour. Then I'll say, I have to go, with my children screaming and jumping on me. She'll say, "okay. But Like I Said...." It's a good thing she's a very loyal friend. Otherwise I'd have shot her long ago.
Post a Comment
<< Home