Monday, April 04, 2005
Creepy creeps who creep me out, part II
Previously on the Real World…
When last we checked in with Mike in his RF engineering work setting he was being confronted by an assortment of interesting characters who managed to, on a daily basis, give him a month’s supply of the heeby jeebies. Such anomalies included Fruity Gay Guy with the Fruity Gay Smile, Princess Butterface, the walking skeletal remains of a prominent secretary from the 1870’s, and of course the guy with itty bitty little shrunken baby arms. While each of these provided Mike with a certain amount of cubicle agoraphobia, shut-in status would continuously elude him. Day in and day out he is forced to meet new and horrifying people who somehow manage to carry on professional careers in this industry. Let’s see what new additions he’s made to the list of creepy creeps who creep him out.
B.O. Diddly – Ach! Cough hack wretch gag fucking puke! What the fuck is wrong with this society when a guy believes that it is perfectly acceptable to work in a cramped office environment with what has got to be a pair of six-months-dead carp lodged under his arms? This engineer down the hall who I have to go talk to more and more frequently smells and looks like he hasn’t showered in weeks. His hair is a tangled mess. His skin is pasty and dull. His fingernails are dirty. But most of all he reeks of body odor. And I don’t mean that sort of gross and sort of sexy musk a guy gets like after he works out or comes down from the ladder with your kitten. This is just a rotten egg salad sandwich served in a high school boy’s used gym sock.
Asshole Bean Pole on Crack – You remember that little skinny guy in grade school? He was really small, even for his age, scrawny and weak. It wasn’t his fault, and you probably felt bad for him. Remember how strange it was when you realized that rather than being a polite, cuddly little friendly sort he was actually the meanest, most sarcastic and condescending prick in the class? Well now he’s a full grown, mean, sarcastic, condescending prick. And by “full grown” I mean 5’10” and 104 lbs. And that’s what I’ve got going on here. This little jerky shit head walks around talking down to everyone (including us friendly contractors) like because he’s an electrical engineer he’s now able to start taking everyone else milk money back. He needs to be punked. I guarantee that if I were to walk by and cock my arm like I was going to punch him he’d fall down, whimper, and defecate. He also has this convulsing problem where he just blinks and twitches and generally spazzes out like a zombie from 28 Days Later. He’ll be the first one to bring in the rifle. I’m keeping my distance.
Rebel with a Soldering Iron – In one of the large labs there’s a guy about my age with tattoos all up and down his arms and one of those big ol’ bull-ring septum piercings. He always wears jeans and t-shirts and walks around slow and casual making light of everyone’s situations like he’s the only one who gets the big joke of life. It’s annoying as fuck. Every time I see him I just want to grab that fucking nose ring of his and start screaming, “Your father didn’t joint the Merchant Marines! He abandoned your mommy and then drank himself into a shallow grave because you’re such a fucking failure! Pull up your pants!” I mean there were entire cliques assigned to this kind of arrogant angst in high school. But this guy’s got a receding hairline and a $10/hr job soldering resistors to circuit boards. The only thing he has to be arrogant about is the fact that he somehow manages to get away with playing Bejeweled on the computer half of every day. And his high score is shit!
Ooooh…tha Ladykillaaaah – I’ll just come right out and say it: engineers are not sexy. They’re either overweight or underweight, awkwardly shaped, socially inept, predominantly male, unkempt, poorly dressed speds who can only score chicks of equal or lesser caliber because they make good money and haven’t stumbled upon that expensive taste in Babylon 5 memorabilia. But then…most engineers aren’t Stu, the Disco Fever Engineever. Watch him strut down the corridor like Travolta in the opening scene of Saturday Night Fever (not Travolta’s feet by the way) like he’s gliding to the beats of They Might Be Giants’ new club megahit. See that orange and green taffeta shirt shimmering up to the fourth button, where it goes undone, exposing that sexy, masculine bald, flat chest. Check out those feaux-vintage jeans and how they shape his ass like every gay porn star I’ve ever seen. And that hair. However did he get it so curly and full? Yesssir…this cat’s got it all; looks, sweet threads, a suave walk, and the ability to repair your HAM radio. Ladies, ladies please…one at a time.
The Bigot Who Assumes That I’m a Bigot Too – So this Mexican walks into a bar with a big green parrot on his shoulder. The bartender takes one look and says, “Hey cool! Where’d you get that?” The parrot than says, “RAHR! Mexico. There’s millions of them down there. RAHR!”… This was just one of the jokes I’ve been told by the white guy at the other end of the building recently. He comes complete with 1,001 ways to land yourself in HR like “Q: How do you get a black guy out of a tree? A: Cut the rope” and “Q: Why did the woman cross the road? A: What does it matter, who let her out of the kitchen in the first place?” It’s always such a pleasure to bond with distinguished members of my gender and race in this meaningful and productive way. And every time I hear one of these gems I can really relate to the hidden truth behind each punch line like how you really can get blacks off a white woman by throwing them a basketball and how women get PMS because… (ready for this?) they deserve it. DAMN! BURN! Oh the truth of it just brings a tear to my eye. And he knows I’m German too, so I’m never getting away from this.
And that wraps up another episode of Creepy Creeps. Tune in next quarter when Mike is met by the woman with shoulder pads like a quarterback, the janitor who can’t speak English yet who keeps trying to strike up a conversation, and finally the engineer who walks the halls with a tape measure and just starts measuring things on the wall for no apparent reason. Oh what a time we’ll have.
When last we checked in with Mike in his RF engineering work setting he was being confronted by an assortment of interesting characters who managed to, on a daily basis, give him a month’s supply of the heeby jeebies. Such anomalies included Fruity Gay Guy with the Fruity Gay Smile, Princess Butterface, the walking skeletal remains of a prominent secretary from the 1870’s, and of course the guy with itty bitty little shrunken baby arms. While each of these provided Mike with a certain amount of cubicle agoraphobia, shut-in status would continuously elude him. Day in and day out he is forced to meet new and horrifying people who somehow manage to carry on professional careers in this industry. Let’s see what new additions he’s made to the list of creepy creeps who creep him out.
B.O. Diddly – Ach! Cough hack wretch gag fucking puke! What the fuck is wrong with this society when a guy believes that it is perfectly acceptable to work in a cramped office environment with what has got to be a pair of six-months-dead carp lodged under his arms? This engineer down the hall who I have to go talk to more and more frequently smells and looks like he hasn’t showered in weeks. His hair is a tangled mess. His skin is pasty and dull. His fingernails are dirty. But most of all he reeks of body odor. And I don’t mean that sort of gross and sort of sexy musk a guy gets like after he works out or comes down from the ladder with your kitten. This is just a rotten egg salad sandwich served in a high school boy’s used gym sock.
Asshole Bean Pole on Crack – You remember that little skinny guy in grade school? He was really small, even for his age, scrawny and weak. It wasn’t his fault, and you probably felt bad for him. Remember how strange it was when you realized that rather than being a polite, cuddly little friendly sort he was actually the meanest, most sarcastic and condescending prick in the class? Well now he’s a full grown, mean, sarcastic, condescending prick. And by “full grown” I mean 5’10” and 104 lbs. And that’s what I’ve got going on here. This little jerky shit head walks around talking down to everyone (including us friendly contractors) like because he’s an electrical engineer he’s now able to start taking everyone else milk money back. He needs to be punked. I guarantee that if I were to walk by and cock my arm like I was going to punch him he’d fall down, whimper, and defecate. He also has this convulsing problem where he just blinks and twitches and generally spazzes out like a zombie from 28 Days Later. He’ll be the first one to bring in the rifle. I’m keeping my distance.
Rebel with a Soldering Iron – In one of the large labs there’s a guy about my age with tattoos all up and down his arms and one of those big ol’ bull-ring septum piercings. He always wears jeans and t-shirts and walks around slow and casual making light of everyone’s situations like he’s the only one who gets the big joke of life. It’s annoying as fuck. Every time I see him I just want to grab that fucking nose ring of his and start screaming, “Your father didn’t joint the Merchant Marines! He abandoned your mommy and then drank himself into a shallow grave because you’re such a fucking failure! Pull up your pants!” I mean there were entire cliques assigned to this kind of arrogant angst in high school. But this guy’s got a receding hairline and a $10/hr job soldering resistors to circuit boards. The only thing he has to be arrogant about is the fact that he somehow manages to get away with playing Bejeweled on the computer half of every day. And his high score is shit!
Ooooh…tha Ladykillaaaah – I’ll just come right out and say it: engineers are not sexy. They’re either overweight or underweight, awkwardly shaped, socially inept, predominantly male, unkempt, poorly dressed speds who can only score chicks of equal or lesser caliber because they make good money and haven’t stumbled upon that expensive taste in Babylon 5 memorabilia. But then…most engineers aren’t Stu, the Disco Fever Engineever. Watch him strut down the corridor like Travolta in the opening scene of Saturday Night Fever (not Travolta’s feet by the way) like he’s gliding to the beats of They Might Be Giants’ new club megahit. See that orange and green taffeta shirt shimmering up to the fourth button, where it goes undone, exposing that sexy, masculine bald, flat chest. Check out those feaux-vintage jeans and how they shape his ass like every gay porn star I’ve ever seen. And that hair. However did he get it so curly and full? Yesssir…this cat’s got it all; looks, sweet threads, a suave walk, and the ability to repair your HAM radio. Ladies, ladies please…one at a time.
The Bigot Who Assumes That I’m a Bigot Too – So this Mexican walks into a bar with a big green parrot on his shoulder. The bartender takes one look and says, “Hey cool! Where’d you get that?” The parrot than says, “RAHR! Mexico. There’s millions of them down there. RAHR!”… This was just one of the jokes I’ve been told by the white guy at the other end of the building recently. He comes complete with 1,001 ways to land yourself in HR like “Q: How do you get a black guy out of a tree? A: Cut the rope” and “Q: Why did the woman cross the road? A: What does it matter, who let her out of the kitchen in the first place?” It’s always such a pleasure to bond with distinguished members of my gender and race in this meaningful and productive way. And every time I hear one of these gems I can really relate to the hidden truth behind each punch line like how you really can get blacks off a white woman by throwing them a basketball and how women get PMS because… (ready for this?) they deserve it. DAMN! BURN! Oh the truth of it just brings a tear to my eye. And he knows I’m German too, so I’m never getting away from this.
And that wraps up another episode of Creepy Creeps. Tune in next quarter when Mike is met by the woman with shoulder pads like a quarterback, the janitor who can’t speak English yet who keeps trying to strike up a conversation, and finally the engineer who walks the halls with a tape measure and just starts measuring things on the wall for no apparent reason. Oh what a time we’ll have.
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And he knows I’m German too, so I’m never getting away from this. - hahahaha! that's so true. you might as well tell him you're a member of the aclu, naacp, or something like that.
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