Friday, January 24, 2014

Mavenism of the Moment: Post Traumatic Haiku Disorder

What the fuck IS Post Traumatic Haiku Disorder? Well, it's this weird-assed response I have when I'm repulsed or traumatized by something. And today that "something" is the fetid pit stank of a co-irker.

Super nice guy. And no, he doesn't have a disorder. He doesn't stink like this every day. At least if he did stink like this everyday, I'd prepare myself ahead of time with a swipe of Vics vap-o-rub under each nostril, like morgue workers do when dealing with ripe cadavers.

My point is, he IS capable of goodish hygiene. 
My problem is the CONSISTENCY of said hygiene.

So, this string of haiku is borne out of my olfactory bulb being used as a punching bag by this co-irker's stank glands.

Enjoy! (And by "enjoy" I really mean, "bask in the schadenfreude, bitches.")

How can you not smell
Your stink sticks to everything
Resinous armpit.

At first glance, normal
Otherwise fastidious
Oh! The pungency!

Singeing my nose hair
Nice guy with not-so-nice pits
Set my ire ablaze.

Why are you single?
 No one need ever to ask that.
 Regrettable whiff.

Indoor plumbing, soap
Detergent, deodorant
No excuse for stink.

I've met homeless men
Who did not stink like you do
Do you NOT smell it?

I feel bad. (I do!)
Bu-di-ssy meets All-be-damned! 
Please! Don't wave hello! 

END NOTE: This is all some weird assed, trippy, karmic riddle or joke, along the lines of "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" Corollary: One of life's lessons I was taught at a very young age was, "If you can smell yourself/your stink, OTHERS can, too." Well, here it is OTHERS can smell it, and yet, from the looks of it, he cannot smell his own stink or is otherwise immune to it, or the possibility is he thinks it's normal or he just accepts it.  And sadly, there is NO polite or kind way to bring this to his attention. The object ISN'T to cause him more suffering; however, I *would* like to diminish my own suffering. And since I cannot make him stink less, my post traumatic haiku disorder kicks into high gear.

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Life Lesson I've Learned From Ron Effing Swanson

"Never half ass two things. WHOLE ass one thing."

Workplace What-the-Fuckery: Necromance Edition

What do these three items have in common?
  • Used condom.
  • Whole, raw sweet potato (or quite possibly a yam).
  • Fecal pile (definitely mammalian; possibly human, inadequately tucked into a plain brown lunch sack).
All three items were discovered one day (several years ago*) outside the entrance to my office building

Additionally, another day resulted in a brown lunch sack full of fecal material, that appeared as if the originating extruder's diet consisted of nothing but canned pumpkin.

*Unfortunately, sadly, no photographic proof. This was back before I had a cell phone with a camera feature. Inexplicably, I dredged up that memory today, and figured I'd slap the memory herein to share. Because I'm a fucking "giver."

Workplace What-the-Fuckery: Location-Nexus of CrayCray and What the Fuck

Our office should be relocating by mid-March. None-too-soon, if you ask me. 

Yesterday, as I went down to the lobby to sign for a UPS parcel, when I opened the door to the lobby, I was quite literally punched in the snot locker by the fetid stench of urine.

As I signed for the parcel, my eyes darted around to all four corners of the lobby, and I asked the UPS delivery dude, "WTF, did someone urinate out here?" He replied, "I don't know. I've been holding my breath waiting for you to come sign for this package!"

The current location of our office is in a very depressed part of town. Within a 2-4 block radius of my front door there is:
  • A men's shelter, 90% of occupants are on the county's sex offender registry 
  • Transitional housing (aka welfare hotel) for folks transitioning from shelter system to Section 8 
  • The Projects 
  • A methadon clinic 
  • Probation/Parole 
  • Family court 
  • Social services 
  • County and Federal court buildings 
  • TASC (Treatment Alternatives for Safer Communities)
So "downstairs" gets quite a bit of foot traffic, and quite a bit of that foot traffic is chock full of the cray-cray.

Oh, I neglected to mention, right outside our office is a bus stop, yanno, to make it super easy for all the derelicts to come here.

It's a very depressing area. Interestingly, you walk 2 blocks in any direction and the tone changes radically. Two blocks in one direction? Pricey condos. Two blocks in another direction? Hookers and blow (well, not really two blocks, that's further down on Lexington, but still a walkable distance). 

Friday, January 17, 2014

My Shitty Neighbors: Parking Edition

FWP? Perhaps. Such is life in suburbia. Condo Life sucks ass, since we're all packed together like sardines in our development, each person's assholeishness is amplified and felt quite directly.

The person who parks like this, is a certifiable, "Grade A" asshole, the likes of which has bells and whistles on it. We shall hold a parade in honor your ass-i-tude! Seriously, go fuck yourself. CLEARLY, this neighbor has zero fucks for which to give.

Note: The fury is for the KIA to the left, which is parked NOT in a spot, partially blocking the Honda to the right, and the BMW to the left (out of view). Because the ENTIRE WORLD rotates on its axis SOLELY for the convenience of this asshole. 

Note: This is not the only lot for our development. They are just supremely lazy. What would have been utter bliss would have been if it were garbage day, as this would no doubt have prevented department of sanitation workers from accessing the dumpsters. 


Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Workplace What-the-Fuckery: What the actual fuck?

We are a legal office. WTFF? This shit stopped me in my tracks today.