Office Feed Bag

One of the many things I do not miss about my old job is my desk's location. I had the displeasure of having an office that was situated in such a way that juuuuust outside of it was a seemingly unassuming filing cabinet. Nothing flashy, a few books and perhaps a plant at times. However, there were three extremely flattering features about this filing cabinet:

1) Allowed for ease of access with three entry points so it was a high traffic area
2) It was near my office and apparently I'm a magnet for miserable inane conversations
3) Perfect height for food placement

These 3 facts made for a nightmare environment to work in. It was the single reason I quit the job.

Conversations usually went:

Story teller: "Did you hear that (fill in person I don't know nor care about) had a (insert too much information) and then (insert something horrific happening)?"  

Responder: "GASP! (insert feigned expression of empathy, usually 'Are they OK?')"

That Story Teller would do the rounds 17 times and I'd have to hear it EVERY time. What made it worse is that Story Teller double dipped on certain people and told the story again and again...and again. Why would they linger? Because there was food on the goddamn table.

Anyway...that's a rant for another day. My point is the actual food being put on the cabinet and what it does to people.
For instance, one time someone bought donuts. Of course everyone, upon hearing the plastic crinkle of the Dunkin Donuts bag, comes swarming like a pack of vultures and/or hyenas. 

As you can see from my well crafted picture it is like Armageddon when food is available.

Again, that table is right outside my office so all I could hear was screeching, cackling, and a bunch of jockeying for position.  There's always someone who establishes themself as the alpha male and gets the prime choice followed by the rest of the lot who get the scraps. 

Here's my gripe about this particular occassion. Although it was REALLY nice of them to get the donuts(doughnuts?) which I don't eat anyway, but what on earth compels people to buy the old fashioned ones and the lemon filled ones? NO one eats them and they usually are thrown away or given to the vagrants who will literally eat anything. 

If you only wanted to buy 9 donuts then that’s all you should have bought. Buy a real dozen next time with all the chocolate, powder, and sprinkle fixings. 

Fatty McEatsalot

I decided to test the mettle of the Big N Toasty my brother has raved about with a lot of skepticism.

Let me just say...hot dang that's a good sandwich!

Course of events:

I swagger into D&D and order myself an iced coffee.

"Would you like anything else?"

I pause for effect and say, "I'll have a Big N' Toasty with sausage...bitch"

I may have said "please" instead of bitch, but whatever I'm allowed to embellish.

I look over to the sandwich making lady and scoffed at the bread they were going to use for the sandwich. Puhleeeze. I know bread, and that bread was weeeeeak!

I get my sandwich and go back to the office. Upon opening the sandwich, sure to be disappointed, I was completely baffled at what lay before me.

Did the sandwich grow in the bag?

After one bite I was sold. I didn't even need a drink since the bread had enough butter to quench the thirst of 100 popcorn bags.

Cheesy Exchanges

You ever have one of those exchanges with someone and happen to slip in a clever quip and then that other person has to one up you with another...then you have to do it back to them because you want to show them that you are on another level of cheese, and so on and so on?

Well, I pride, rather I shame, myself on being extremely corny. However, sometimes the ends justify the cheese because "punny" humor has to be nipped in the bud before it gets too out of hand. I like to lump all of the possible awful jokes into one exchange just to get the stupid conversation over with. For instance, I said this about my lunch once:

Me: “I brought a roast beef sandwich and some chips….I don’t know why I put the chips in the fridge with the sandwich, but I figured they didn’t want to be separated from each other.”

Responder: “Are they in love?  Will it last?”

Of course that person had to do that! Aggravated, I unleashed the following annoying paragraph:

Me: “Well, the chips relayed to me that they are feeling suffocated by the relationship, but I told them that’s because they were in a sealed Ziploc bag.  Roast beef views the chips as its ‘something on the side’.  I’m trying my best to keep the peace here, and I’m sure I’ll be able to stomach the situation at around 12:30.  Was that cheesy enough to kill it?”

It did not get a response. Mission accomplished.

The Color Purple

Seriously what is Grimace? I know its been asked, but what is he?

A gumdrop, partially melted barney?

Doesn’t Grimace have a negative connotation to it?

Shouldn’t his name be Shit-eating Grin? 

McDonald's has been going with a more urban theme the last few years…Maybe Grimace is supposed to be Grape Drink? (OHHHH NO YOU DIDN'T!)

I always feel like he should be wearing a diaper for some reason too. 

I think I’d flip out if I saw Grimace in person.  Flip out in a good way.  He really does make you laugh, I mean look at this picture...hilarious!

Gets more laughs than Ronald does. 

Ronald makes me uncomfortable. It is as if he’s a pedophile or something. Gives me that dirty priest/Michael Jackson vibe.

Why did they write Mayor Mcheese out of their scripts?  I thought he had potential, more than that stupid pigtailed duck thing “Birdie the Early Bird”. 

She’s not even a good flyer for Christ's sake! Always crashing into things and cutting people off. Way to get away from the stereotypes McDonald’s. 

The Hamburgler just got annoying, used to be about the burgers man. Yeah his fame went to his head along with the tons of lines of coke he did.  Never trust someone in prison fatigues I guess…once a con always a con. 

Boston Common Squirrels

I wrote this 6 years ago. Boston Common squirrels were decrepit looking creatures back then, and they are still disgusting now.

 Boston Common Squirrels

Growing up surrounded by various hobos and malcontents by night, and intelligent students, business elite, and lawyer folks by day, gives these squirrels on the Boston Common the street smarts as well as the book smarts to survive.  I, for one, am petrified of them. 

One time when I was walking hurriedly to the train late at night I saw a squirrel leaning against a tree with its hair greased back, a cigarette in its mouth, and a leather jacket to boot! 

He asked, "Got a light?" in a gravelly voice.

I responded nervously, "I don't sm...sm...smoke."  

He shrugged and pulled a match out. Then he lit it against the tree, and took a long drag off the cigarette.

I skittishly moved on with the irking sense that I was being followed.  Just as I was about to climb the stairs to freedom from the Common, another squirrel thug popped out from behind a tree! He flicked a switchblade open at me, and told me, "Give me dose roasted nuts, and don't try any funny business!" (he may or may not have said "See?" like they do in those old 50's gangster movies. Things were happening so fast.) 

I told him in an obviously scared manner, "I, I, I have no idea what you're talking. I can't eat nuts...I'm allergic to them." 

"Don't get smaht with me, see, I saw you buy them from that chubby asshole just a few minutes ago, see. Falk ovah the loot or I'll haveta gut ya"  

I tried to turn around to flee, but the bearer of the cigarette, "Smokey", was right there to cut me off!  He flicked the stub of what remained of his cigarette at my chest, burning embers included, and then made a nodding gesture toward the other lackey squirrel.

In a surprising show of quickness and agility the blade wielding squirrel made a move to my face, teeth reared back to show 2 vicious looking fangs, and knife splayed ready to strike.  I did the only courageous thing I could think of. I reached into my pocket for the nuts that I supposedly didn't have, and threw them at my assailant.  With my cloaking agent of caramel roasted nuts covering the air and ground I made my escape to the stairs. 

I have never used that route since. 

Gets My Goat Series

I forget when I wrote this, but it still holds up:

I really have gotten used to the crowded trains on the way into work despite my many complaints.  However, I can't let this latest transgression go unaccounted for.  I have attached a picture to give you a visual of the encounter I endured on my latest commute. 

As you can see this gargantuan man thought it would be nice to put his bulbous crotch right in front of my face.  His orangutan and sweaty like arms were hindering me from leaning back in my seat to avoid the zipper region facing me.  I couldn't decide which was the lesser of 2 evils; Should I lean back and perpetually puke in my mouth for 45 minutes or should I lean forward and hope beyond all hope that the already taut buttons on the painted on pants don't pop and I'm forced into a prison scene rivaled only from the movie Shawshank Redemption?  I couldn't very well alternate between the 2 because then it would look like I was actually engaging in the act I was trying to avoid in the first place.  I decided the only course of action was Operation Newspaper Shield and iPod volume on optimum levels (figured that would shut up the voices in my head that were screaming and crying).  I raised my crossword puzzle up to shield this Dockers nightmare in front of me, and I blacked out the rest of the way.

I have taken proper care to show you the 5 free seats that were available at the time.  You ask, "Why didn't you get up and move to one of the free seats?" 1) My drawing is no exaggeration, he really was engulfing me as such from the front, fruit eating lady to my left flank, and people's feet on my right route 2) Just on principal I couldn't move, I was there first and that fat ass should have gone, PLUS IT WAS ONLY THE SECOND STOP!!! he had to stand right there? there's so much free room goddamn it. 3) My legs were powerless due to his odor filled clutches.  I felt like I was caught in a comic strip at that moment, "Can't...move...must...get to..new seat...odor...draining strength..arggghh!"  

Yes my face was that red.

Who Invited That A$$hole?

You're goddamn right I decided to jump on the online journaling bandwagon, or as you of the technological universe call it, "blogging".

I'm adverse to using that word. I don't like it. It is up there with "uber" and "moist".

Being the first journal entry, I guess I am supposed to regale you with what you should expect from my ramblings. Well, too bad. There is no theme, no direction, no rhyme or even reason (GASP!) to these writings. Take that, structure!

Much of the posts in the beginning will be repeats that most of you may have read in the past, but I'll filter in some unique gems from time to time hopefully.

Please enjoy my words from left to right.