No Humping

A No Humping Wednesday

(I never liked that "hump day" thing)

So, last night after work, I talked to my boss about my co-worker Jack. Hu? You haven't read my rants about him here or here or here?

Basically he told me to just deal with it. Since he doesn't have to be around him as much as I do, and when he does Jack is on his best behavior, (SUCK UP) I am thinking my boss is just trying to keep peace. He did tell me Jack asked him why I won't talk to him. He asked the wrong person, don't you think?

So I've decided, seriously, if Jack asks me what's wrong (I don't talk to him unless it's absolutely necessary) ... I'm going to tell him. There are some things he does that I shouldn't really make public, but his disgusting other things are enough! I know it will cause a big war but I have that handled too.

I'm going to calmly tell him to go back to his desk and pour himself a nice tall glass of shut the fuck up!

I know I'll feel better.

Challenge ... at Your Own Risk

I have worked with all men for over 25 years. Nothing surprises me.
I have heard dirty jokes, four lettered words, and more things than I care to, spew from their mouths.

I saw something today that reminded me of a challenge from about 15 years ago.

We had a guy I'll call Doug (because that is what his real name is) that would do sublet work for us. We always joked around on the phone and whenever he came by my office.

One day he was in the outer office area telling one of the guys a disgusting story, not knowing I was in my office and that I could hear every word. At the end of the story, he heard me laughing. I think I was laughing more at the fact he didn't realize I was listening.

He came in my office and apologized profusely for his story and kept back peddling that he didn't know I was in my office.

I reassured him that I knew he didn't know I was there and besides, his story didn't gross me out. I told him after working with all these guys for all these years, nothing could gross me out. *side note ... obviously Jack wasn't working here during this time.

Doug jumped at the chance for a challenge. He bragged that he could gross me out before the week was over. I took that challenge and raised it to my being able to gross him out more. He laughed .... as if !

The next day, his coworker delivered a box of donuts for all our guys. He also had a small bakery box just for me. Duh ... what could it be? Yes, the no brainer dog poop.

Doug had no clue who he was playing with. Game on buddy!

I wasn't sure what I was going to do for the next round.

Then, just as today's reminder, I was driving to the bank on a hot sunny day.

There it was.

All bloated, big, fat, stiff and stewing in all it's glory, and well, its juices too.

I recruited my friend Kim to help me. We got a box ... a big box, and a shovel. I scooped me up some fresh raccoon roadkill into the box and we brought it back to her office.

I made a little sign on a stick saying, "Hi Doug" and placed it between the claws of the roadkill. (Ms. Germaphobe here had gloves on). She had gift wrap in her office, so we wrapped the box and put a big bow on it.

I called Doug's secretary and told her I would be delivering the box during his lunch hour and advised her NOT to open it. Let him open it when he gets back. She was laughing saying she had a half work day but now was going to have to stay until he got back.

About an hour later I got a call.

It was Doug.

He said, "I surrender, you win, I am done. If this is what you do in response to a little bit of dog crap, I don't even want to go any further."

He was laughing but I was glad he ended it. I'm not sure how I'd top bloated roadkill.

Moanin' Missives

Dear guy behind me at the light,

I know we can turn "right on red". I hear you blowing your horn as you wave your arms in the air, pointing at the clear traffic and motioning me to turn right. Did it ever occur to you I am going straight? Just because you are turning right, doesn't mean I am.

Please don't give me your dirty look when I just smile and wave back. It takes a lot for me not to just hop out and get all up in your face.

Buckle up,
Nancy


Dear co-worker that I have written so much about,

You are a grown man. Why do you talk baby talk on the phone ... to suppliers? Why did you just call and say in a sing-song whiny voice "Hi Mikie, can you get *this part* delivered out here today, pwetty pweese. You can? Thanks hon-neee."

It makes me want to slap you upside your head McFly!

Professionally speaking,
Nancy


Dear lady in front of me at the check out,

You have over $100 in groceries, 80% of them being crap, junk-food, and frozen dinners. Why do you have to argue with the cashier over a .25 frickin cent coupon? Don't you see the 5 of us lined up behind you? When I handed you a dollar and said "here, this more than covers your coupon," why did you give me a dirty look? It broke the frustration in line and clearly showed you how stupid you looked and sounded.

If you need to pinch pennies, rethink those Hostess Ding-Dongs and multi-pack cans of Pringles. Your butt and your wallet could do without them.

Organically yours,
Nancy

(Snot) DOMINATRIX

I came to work today.

With a fever.
With a snotty nose.
With runny eyes.
With an attitude.

And with a WHIP. *CRACK*

I told Jack, "You will go to the doctor today. You will get drugs. You will get rid of these germs you keep passing through the offices that only you and I share."




I asked him if his wife and kids are sick. Nope, they aren't.
I told him my kids and friends aren't sick. Just me ... and him.
Nobody else at work is sick. Just us.

When I was done cracking the whip, I handed him my doctor's name and phone number and demanded he call while I stood there.

He goes in at 10:45.

Damn, I feel better already. Is it the power of the whip or the anticipation of getting rid of this bug once and for all?

Ick, I'm Sick

I'm home sick, with a fever.

I don't remember the last time I stayed home from work because I was sick.

I get colds, sinus infections, the usual seasonal bugs, but rarely bad enough to keep me down or home.

I'm pissed.



I'm pissed because for the last month I have been spraying my office, the adjoining office, the phones, and the air with Lysol. Right into the ceiling fans too! Spread that Lysol! I kid you not, I use fricken paper towels to open and close any office doors.

Why? (other than I'm a germophobe)

JACK

Remember him? Please, go back here and catch up with me. I'll wait ... really go look.

I'm not going to get Dooced for writing this. I WISH he'd read it.

For the last month he has been coughing, sneezing, horking, and snotting all over the place. I forbid him to use my phone. I spray down the fax and copy machines. I hide my pens when I am not at my desk so he doesn't pick them up if he happens to be in my office using the fax or copy machine. I have told him to take drugs, get to a doctor, wash your fucking hands for God's sake. Does he listen?

(aahh-chooooooo) Obviously not.

Sorry for the rant, but I feel better already for it.

Yippi-yi-yo-ki-yea ... I did it ... 30 days

No Mo Na Blo Po Fo Mo!

Worse than diarrhea ...

* Warning, not for the weak stomach *

There are many people blogging about poop, boogers, gas, barfing ... a plethora of bodily functions. Sure it's cute and funny when it's about kids or animals. Even the best delivered adult confession is hilarious when it is being recalled versus witnessed first hand.

I work with Jack ... nope that isn't even a pseudo name ... his real name is Jack but unfortunately he doesn't read my blog.

Jack's desk is in the office right next to mine. This man is so damn disgusting I should weigh 100lbs from losing my appetite.

He has a daily, or should I say hourly, habit of ripping cheek lifting, atomic bomb dropping, farts that make chopping 100 pounds of onions appeal to me more than having my eyes well up from his stench.

It never fails, he leaves the area after he quasi sh*ts his pants, only to have someone walk in and see just me sitting at my desk. I feign ignorance and lean out of my office and say "Oh Jack must have just left, he was just here, he is probably in the bathroom."

His "cranked-up-to-11" volume snoring, yes, he naps every chance he can, sounds like he can blow the roof off.

Obviously he skipped the Miss Manners "etiquette at the dinner table" chapter because the way he scarfs, no make that inhales, his food should be the worlds best argument for fasting.

Jack is a nose picker. He will be talking to you and pick without hesitation and even roll it around his fingers while examining it until it does the disappearing into thin air on its own act. When his paperwork makes it back to my desk, I kid you not, he has fricken boogers stuck to it. No way will I touch it, therefore, I won't wipe it off. I now take cellophane tape and put a strip over them so I don't have to deal with it ... gross I know, but better than accidentally touching it while finishing up the paper.

All of the above I have learned to deal with. That's right, I actually deal with it.

Jack is old, 60 years old. Jack is a horker. He always snorts his snot and sometimes he horks it out, but for the most part, he is a loogie recycler. Can you imagine, he swallows that crap? I try not to picture how it must flow like molasses through his system.

If you are still reading this, I applaud you.

Don't even say to take it up with the boss, he is aware, sits right next to Jack (hey I am lucky I have my own office) and is just as grossed out by it all as I am. He is just too nice of a guy to say anything, and does the kind thing by pointing out all Jacks good qualities ... which escapes me, I haven't seen any yet.

The air (no pun intended) in the workplace has always been light, fun, no drama, no conflicts ... we have all worked together ... a team ... for many years.

What oh what can I do or say to get this man to excuse himself from my ear shot when he has to perform these disgusting bodily functions? Any ideas?