Took a little vacation last issue from Scowlzine, of course I pretty much had to with everything that's going on. First and foremost. Moving.
Moving is strange. It's like that kind of ritual that's both exciting and completely frightening at the same time. This move is making me a little more nervous than most, as I'm moving to Philadelphia. Well...the girl and I, which helps.
Philly, as a town, is awesome. It's not too big, not too small. The buildings are big enough for you to have to look up when you're standing in front of them, but when you're in them and you look down, you don't puke. The music scene is great, the recreation is great, the shopping is beyond compare and the cheesesteaks...well...
Pure delight...
So everything's taken care of at this point. Apartment, job, everything else. And now I'm just winding down here at work in NY. Last day is tomorrow. I have a mild case of short-timers, but really it's much more mild than I thought it would be. I'm still working. Still taking a half-hour lunch, and still caring about what goes on here.
Which leads me to one of my subjects...
Co-workers.
Okay. The guy's name is Arnie. He's the youngest here (22), and he's a little strange. Strange in that he's so caught up in the dating scene that his testosterone simply oozes around the office. You can see the trail...little sperm trail ground into the carpet or something. You can see those lively little suckers jumping around like fish out of water every where he sits and whenever he talks. It's too much. He needs to calm the hormones down.
The guy goes upstairs into the customer service department to try and get dates. Not to talk to his co-workers or anything, but seriously to give one-liners to other employees to see if someone will go out with him. Of course this all ended when he met his girlfriend/loveofhislife Bridgette.
He showed me a picture of her. Actually, he showed everyone a picture of her because he brought in an 8X10 glamour shot of her that he paid for and passed it around to all of his co-workers. Mind you, I don't know him THAT well. We don't sit and talk and being that I am not female, really he just ignores me. But it was like I was his best friend when he was showing the picture around. Kind of like a pre-schooler during show and tell. Literally from cube to cube, giving the same speech, "Hey so-and-so, this is my new girlfriend! Isn't she pretty? I met her at Church. She's in the nursing field. Isn't she pretty? I think I'm going to ask her to be exclusive with me this weekend!" And so on, ad nauseum.
She wasn't BAD-looking. I mean, she was all right. I'm not one to sit here and judge her, of course. (Well...that's a lie...actually I AM one to sit here and judge) She's a little on the 'overweight' side, which is okay, her nose was one of those pointy Sissy-Spacek noses, which, I could probably deal with as well. Her hair was surprisingly knappy-lookin' for a glamour shot, but I'm sure that someone was just starting out there that day. Basically what he showed me held my interest for a total of 5 seconds, which is how long I need to decide that work is thoroughly more enjoyable than wasting time on converstation, at which point I turned my head back to my computer and continued working, basically ignoring Arnie and Bridgette completely.
So I go to lunch a few hours later. Now, the lunchroom is basically a mid-sized kitchen. There's no stove, but it has the necessary coffee machine, fridge, sink, nuker, and a couple of snack machines next to a finicky soda machine. There's enough chairs for roughly 12.
I'm in here alone. In the middle of a difficult day at work, enjoying a nice warm bowl of cream of mushroom soup. Yum. Everything is quiet and serene, I sip my soda as if sipping brandy in my mansion, all is well with the world.
Arnie walks in.
"Hiya Darwin, how are you?!"
He's much too cheery, "Ngrn," I grunt in response as I slurp my delicious soup.
"So I was with Bridgette this last weekend, and we went to see Phantom of the Opera," he stands next to my table and spews at me. Nothing in my manner shows that I give a sliver of wet shit as to what he's saying. I mean I really don't care at all. I'm eating. NO DISTURB OOG WHEN HE EAT!
I grunt again in response.
Arnie continued, "And then we went back to my place afterwards..."
I gave him a look. Not one of those, "Well gee, Skippy, tell me more!" looks. I'm talking a simple, get-your-piehole-out-of-my-food-pit look.
"She gave me a hummer," he smiled, triumphantly.
One of my brows raised and I grunted questioningly, as I've never heard of this 'hummer' thing.
"She bought you a Hummer?" I asked curiously, wondering if this girl was completely rich that she would buy this weirdo an amazing vehicle after a month of dating, "It must be serious..." I mumbled.
"No GOOFY," he replied. Very annoying to call me goofy. He reminds me of Fred from Scooby-Doo. "She *GAVE* me a hummer," he said.
"You just said the same fuckin' thing you said two seconds ago," I replied. "She OWNS a Hummer?" I asked.
"No, she gave me a blow job," he blurted.
I just looked at him.
"She went down on me, man. She swallowed!" He was beaming.
I looked from side to side, silently wishing she was rich and had bought him a very expensive car -- easier news to eat to. I looked down at my creamy white soup and suddenly felt a tinge of illness much like one would feel if he became drunk, and woke up not remembering the previous night but had to answer questions like, "Gee, what are all of these hypodermic needles doing sticking out of my twitching kitten, Fluffy?" or, "I need to explain to the police why there's a prosthetic leg sticking out of my toilet and two hookers are chained together, sleeping naked on my driveway?"
Arnie walked away and really that was it. He had me.
The rest of my day was relatively uneventful, as basically all I was doing was thinking about gag reflexes and that warm, creamy soup resting in my stomach.
So anyway, my point is that it seems no matter where I go I'm not safe from idiotic co-workers who tell me much more information than I'll ever care to know.
For now, however, gentle reader, I must go. There's plenty
of play to do here at my last day at work, and I've got some busy
days ahead of me. So until next time, hum a song for me.