Wednesday, April 29, 2009

My Very Own "Mulva"

It's been awhile since I've ranted about how much I hate my office building and all of the people that work there other than myself. That ends today. Do you remember that episode of Seinfeld where Jerry can't remember that broad's name eventhough it rhymes with a part of the female anatomy (even if it doesn't)? Actually, you know what, there is a much better example of this situation in an old episode of Friends.

Long after Friends jumped the shark (when they turned Ross into a faggot and Rachel an ugly cunt), there was an episode where Chris Parnell kept referring to Chandler as "Toby" in the office. It was actually quite humorous. I'm living this scenario right now.

OK, so over the past few months, a disturbing trend has taken shape on the 5th floor of my office building. This guy, we will call him Donkey Fucker (or DF for short) since I don't know his name, is sort of stalking me. It seems like at least once a week I go take a piss and he follows me in a few seconds later. The bathroom has 2 urinals and 3 stalls. Unwritten guy code states that in this situation, I take a urinal and the second pisser takes a stall. It's basic fundamentals. DF does not abide by these laws though. He saddles up right next to me which always throws me off a bit. I'm not one of those pussies that can't piss when someone is next to me, but I do lose focus for a few seconds. And the best part about DF, he ALWAYS rips a 4-6 second fart while taking a leak...a foot away from me. He says nothing. I say nothing. You think, maybe he's doing this for a cheap laugh, but he isn't. He's a fucking ignorant slob. It's disgusting but I can live with that...I guess.

I get off at 6. Right at 6, I am on the move to the elevators. My employer has me until exactly 6 o'clock, and as soon as that hits, it's my time. And I'll be damned if I spend more of my time than I have to in that building. So yesterday, unfortunately, Donkey Fucker is waiting for the elevator. It's just going to be me and him on the way down. Ugh. Now, we've made very small conversation on the "lift" in the past. He will ask me what department I am in and I will tell him in as few of words as humanly possible. We've done this song and dance at least 3 times over the past few months. Why 3 times? Because DF can never my reply so he asks the same questions over and fucking over again. Apparently, he wanted to dance again yesterday and, once again, completely forgot our past conversations.

DF: I bet your glad you don't have to look at anymore bondo today.
G$: (I have absolutely no idea what he is talking about. None. At all. At first I think he's talking on a bluetooth or something else that a douchebag would have. But, no, he is talking to me.) Uh, yeah.
DF: Yeah, I used to work in property damage, too.
G$: Excuse me. (I faked a phone call until we were down in the lobby)

Normally, I correct this asshole that I don't work in property damage and have no idea what he's talking about. But after all of the bathroom farts and poor pisser's etiquette, he has broken me down. I've decided to give up. He has crushed my spirit. I am the Toby to his Chris Parnell yet it isn't funny at all. If he wants to think that I'm some sort of expert in the field of "bondo", then so be it. I have no idea at all what that is, but maybe it will look good on a resume down the road. "G$, I've noticed that you are skilled in the art of bondo and you list Donkey Fucker as a reference. Impressive!"

Anybody got a suggestion on how I should deal with this guy? I'm thinking about going with the cold shoulder approach but I'm open to homicide, too. By the way, many of you may remember my old stories about how much I despise the whore that works next to me so here's an update. For as much time as she spends on Craigslist, it broke my heart that she was not a victim of the Craigslist Killer. And about a week ago, she actually announced out loud that she had to poop. It was the worst thing that I've ever heard. I really need to win the lottery to get out of that place.


Tony B. said...

You could put all your eggs in the "Real World" basket. Or you could be a crack dealer. Not like a mean crack dealer, but a nice crack dealer. You could be like "Hey guys, what's up? Want some crack?"

Seriously though, I would make up a ridiculously intricate lie- and just be over the top with it. With any luck, he'll think you're crazy and avoid you.

Anonymous said...


Next time you are in the elevator question, just ask him....

"Do you like cake farts? I love cake farts".

He'll ask you, "what are cake farts".

Then tell him to go to, when he gets home.

He will never look at you the same way..he will never tell anyone he saw out of fear of being labeled..and he most likely will never talk to you again.


Mr. Ace said...

I would go with another handy defense mechanism that the D.A.R.E. Program taught us, like the cold shoulder technique. I would go with the broken record. Every time he speaks to you just say, "Fuck, I want to kill myself" or "I hate fags.". Eventually it will take care of itself.

You're Welcome

Anonymous said...

Next time he pisses next to you, why don't you "accidentally" miss and piss on the floor close enough to his shoes that it splatters on them. This should teach him to break guy code. This is an extreme measure, but if he isn't pissed enough that he actually wants to talk to you after this, then you have bigger problems.

-Lil' Strut

J Beanie said...

If you remember DF so well, and he doesn't remember you, I'm starting to think that the real DF is G$.

P.S. - So glad to not be in an office anymore.