This Guy Won’t Stop Talking About Himself
So I’ve been seeing a lot of these “100 things about me,” & “Everything you’ve ever not wanted to know about me,” posts on blogs. It’s got me thinking, how well do you readers know me? I wouldn’t imagine that you know me very well. I relish ambiguity. But there have been a few things that I’ve let slip over the months. As my future in blogging is unclear (ie I don’t know how much I’ll be able to blog in Baltimore) I’ve decided to make a short synopsis of my life for you.
I was born in 1983. I was raised primarily in the Seattle, WA area.
I don’t have any pets & I don’t particularly like dog people. I grew up with a fear of rodents & would yelp uncontrollably when near them (I didn’t even like bunnies).
I’ve rocked my fair share of D&D games in my youth. I love argyle & describe myself as a hipster. I go jogging every day after work, & read every night in bed.
I snort when laughing really hard. I am level headed, though I love yelling exclamatives. Carmel flavored Rice Cakes are my ultimate comfort food.
I currently work as a graphic designer & technical writer/editor. I graduated from college in 2005, completing my B.A. requirements in three years.
I hate Robert J.
It’s sad to think that a good portion of my life is now dedicated to thoroughly hating Rob. But that’s the penance I’m willing to pay to enlighten all of you. Speaking of Robby J, the man has some serious issues. It’s currently in the 90’s here in Western Washington (unreasonably hot for a place that’s known for raining all the time). The office AC is down & I swear the man is sweating Jalapeño Poppers. How many do you need to eat in a day to smell like that when you perspire? Gross!
Ok, keeping in tune with the get to know me topic, I’d like to open up the comments area to any questions you have for me. I’ll try my best to dodge your inquiries with sarcasm. *snicker snicker snort*
Sarcastro & the Art of Hating Rob
Rob “Hurry up & wait.”
What the hell does that mean? Well, I know what it means, but what does it mean to Robert J? I’ve heard him say it about a hundred times over the last two weeks & I’m fairly sure he doesn’t understand half the things he says. Let alone grasp the concept of sarcasm & satire. It’s endlessly upsetting to hear him take jokes at face value, completely glazing over the undertone hilarity that was intended. Example:
Sheri Robin “Ha-ha, did ja’ come up with that big people joke all by yourself Jr?” (I didn’t)
Rob “HAHAHHAhahahHAHAha. Wait, what are we talking about?”
“Uhhh… No one was talking to you Rob.”
Rob “Ok, HAhAhHAHAHAh… I have a doggie!”
Rob makes retarded school girls look like Einstein. I hate it when he talks about movies, especially satirical comedies intended to make you think a little. Rob is the type of person who didn’t understand Team America: World Police had political connotations (albeit a poor ones). Rob likes explosions & fucking marionettes. Rob related to the people in Idiocracy.
Biblical Dave “Who’s on first!”
“Channeling Abbott and Costello I see.”
Rob “It’s funny because Who is his name!”
Thank you captain obvious. There’s no easier way to ruin a good joke than by explaining it out loud. That’s the thing about comedy, it’s an elegant dance, and it requires precise timing… *Fart* See that was funny! I set up a visual for you, pause (beat), & then the punch line. Hilarity! Rob would have ruined the joke by explaining that a fart is flatulence resulting from a gaseous build up in ones bowels, if he even understands that concept.
Wendy-Slacks-A-Lot “No seriously! Like all over herself, it was nasty!”
“Gross!”
Rob “That’s what she said.”
Gawd! I fucking hate it when he says “that’s what she said.” I don’t know who “she” is, but if I did I’d track her down & yell at her for giving Rob a reason to open his mouth. Now, I have nothing against the occasional “that’s what she said” joke, in fact if done unanticipated & with the right timing it’s a great addition to almost any statement. It’s about banter & extenuating the conversation, enriching it. I can’t claim to be a comedic genius, though I feel I do alright on my own, but frivolous use of that sentence is killing casual conversation.
*Sigh* Well that’s enough bitching for one day. Thanks for reading. An interesting post script for you all, we got new tickets for Baltimore & once again I’ll be on the same flight as Rob.
How Long Can We Make This Meeting?
You know what I hate, almost as much as I hate Robby J? Frivolous meetings. Meetings that have no business being made. Meetings made purely to appease the upper tier of management, to make them feel important. Even more than that though, I hate it when people draw out these stupid ass meetings for no gawd damn reason except to give them something to do.
Meeting jockeys are the worst! I call them that because they ride a meeting for all it’s worth until it dies from exhaustion. They purposely talk slowly so they can draw a meeting out for hours longer than they need be. They ask obvious questions like “So, we’re here in a meeting about __?” & “You know, I’m still not getting it (even after you’ve explained it to me five times). Could you repeat that last part again?” If I make it though this week I’ll be bald.
Probably the most annoying trait of a meeting jockey is their constant chiming in, even when it’s unwarranted. Constantly saying “Hmm,” “Oh, I see,” “Aaaaa, I get it,” ect ect. Why the hell do you think it’s important to acknowledge every gawd damn sentence?!?
“Um, yeah. I’d really like to wrap this up. I have work I need to do.”
Meeting Jockey “Oh, I see. Very interesting..”
“You’re not even listening to me are you?”
Meeting Jockey “Hmm, good point. I really see where you’re coming from with that…”
The last infuriating thing that they do is get off subject. More than anything else I hate it when meetings digress into talking about our weekends. It’s tragic that you have no one to talk to because you live alone, but I don’t give a flying fuck what you did last weekend, have planned for this weekend, or are going to do three weekends from now. We have a gawd damn meeting scheduled, with a gawd damn agenda, & we better gawd damn cover all the points as quickly as gawd damn possible or I’ll gawd damn end each & every one of you worthless gawd damn lifes!
Robert J is a meeting jockey, & I’ll never get those two hours of my youth back. Proving to me again that Rob is everything that wrong with the world.
With Friends Like These, who needs assholes?
So I had a fun weekend. Well, it was fun up until a point. Then it got crappy, & I was reminded that in five short days I’ll be stuck on an airplane with Robert J on our way to Baltimore MD. Where I’ll be working & Robby J will be… um… well, er… I guess he’s just annoying. You know, I’ve never given much thought to what he actually does, I just know he’s not working… I might have to look into that… Er, but we digress.
Seeing how my time here in the great northwest is limited (My secret is out! It’s ok though, I live in the woods so it’s not like any of you could ever find me) I’ve decided to spend this week as happily as possible. The result was a great weekend that ended with me, my girlfriend, & two of the three software triplets seeing the new Harry Potter movie. Good wholesome fun, that is until we went out for a bite to eat afterwards.
I hang out with a funny bunch. Most of our humor is crude, but harmless. But with my travel arrangements looming around the corner, they couldn’t help but lay it on me. Accusations flew. Fables of how Rob & I are going to share a studio apartment, & how he’s going to be the big spoon. Tall Tales of us holding hands whilst skipping merrily around Baltimore singing our song of glee.
We’re buddieeees
We’re skipping & we’re laughing
& we’re chummyyyy
Give me a HIGH-FIVE!!!
Assumptions that I’d be stuck in a three person row on the plane with Rob at the window, his fat bulging out of his seat & spilling onto me, & Sammy Shrieker on the other side, frightened by everyone passing her in the aisle.
What’s that, I’ve never told you about Samantha Shrieker? Samantha Shrieker is a kind hearted woman in her forties. She’s a conspiracy theorist, she’s paranoid of damn near everything, & as the name suggests she’s very VERY jumpy. Sam has an interesting accent that no one can quite place, she grew up in the Midwest, but has an accent that’s reminiscent of Eastern Europe. I like her because, like me, she stays low key. But due to our upcoming travels I’m sure we’ll be hearing a lot more from her.
All up in my Grill, fo’ Real
Fuck weekends, I’m done with them, all of them, forever. I’m gonna’ start treating them like a Jehovah’s Witness to holidays, never have never will. *Sigh* Oh, hi there. How are you? Welcome to my blog, let me tell you about my weekend.
On Sunday I usually head downtown with some friends. I’m a city boy, it’s where I feel comfortable, it’s what I like. Also, pool is free in most bars on Sundays. I’m not going to lie to you, my buddies & I got a head start on drinking before we hit the town, and so after a few rounds of pool we were good & set for the evening.
Here’s where things get interesting. On the way out, on our way to the bus (because we’re responsible drunks) we ran across a very peculiar sight. On the other side of the street we saw Robert J strutting around town like a hot shot & following him a few yards back, darting behind every mailbox & building corner along the way, was some woman. Freakn’ hilarious! She looked like a femme fatale straight out of some old noir film, dark sunglasses & veiled in scarves. I wish I could tell you that I had some witty line to say to my friends as we watched this, but I was drunk.
“Holy shit, are you guys seeing this?”
Friend 1 “I didn’t know that manatees could walk.”
“No, it’s that fat fucker Rob I’ve been telling you about!”
Friend 2 “Ok, but for realz, does that lady think no one notices her?”
“Well she’s so inconspicuous with those stunner shades & scarves, while wearing Juicy sweatpants… Holy shit…”
Yup it was Sheri Robin, acting like a damn fool. Now most people would leave it at that. They would have watched all of this from afar & gone on with their lives with a funny story to tell. But not me, I was drunk, & I wanted to get to the bottom of this. After three blared horns & twelve screeched tires later I made it across the street. She must have been focused on her task because she didn’t give me & my friends any notice as we were chasing her down.
“Sheri! *Pant* Hey! Wait up! *Gasp* What are you doing?! *Panting*?
I approached but she wasn’t responding.
“*Wheeze* Damn lady *Pant* You’re hard to catch up to…”
Sheri Robin “RAAAAPEEEE!”
Turning around on me with blinding speed I could do little more than let out a bloodcurdling yelp. Fluidly, while spinning around she telegraphed her next action & like in a cheesy anime she lets me know what was coming next.
Sheri Robin “MACE FOR YOUR FACE!!!”
“yyyyyYYEEELLLPPPP!!”
From what I thought would be a pithily of hellos & a quick explanation as to what was going on, to pepper spray in my eyes (thank gawd it wasn’t mace). While squirming around on the ground, with my friends first in shock then laughing hysterically, Sheri explains why she was following Rob. What can only be conveyed as one of the most misogynistic acts of douche-baggery ever witnessed, Rob left a downtown restaurant after harassing a waitress. Sheri Robin & her inquisitive (though at times paranoid, or downright psychotic) mind saw this & had to see what other antics Rob would pull that night. Then I met up with her.
So now I’m sitting at work, red & swollen eyes, trying to come up with excuses as to why I look like the bastard son of Joseph Merrick. Sheri has been cool about not telling the embarrassing truth, but I’m sure it has more to do with her not wanting people to know she follows Robby J around in her free time.
All Hands, No Robs
Ok, bear with me because this story requires a little setup. Earlier this week we had a meeting with our office manager about Baltimore. While we were in the front office no one sat by Rob, which wasn’t that big of a deal because it’s an open space & there were a few places to sit. But when we moved into the manager’s office, which was considerably smaller, everyone found places to sit that were far away from Rob. Which is funny because he was sitting in the middle of the room, Sheri Robin & another writer actually fought over one of two seats that were farther away from him. It hurt Rob’s feelings & made me happy.
So Robert is starting to realize he’s not the most popular person in the office. In an effort to remedy this he’s been trying to be funnier, his attempts have been going horribly wrong. Again, hilarious.
Today we had an all hands meeting scheduled. I don’t like all hands meetings. Mostly because I don’t like the people I work with, but in this particular get together it was because they were serving pizza. The last thing I want to see is a bunch of overweight old fogies slapping their jaws together gumming on some pizza while trying, unsuccessfully, to keep most of it in their mouths. That’s just rude.
Oddly enough Robert J’s crazy antics worked in my favor. Because things are going to be a little slow in the office until we travel, Rob has been given a number of odd tasks to perform that keep him out of trouble & far away from anything important. For the meeting he was charged with moving liters of soda from the refrigerator to the conference room, bad idea. While Wendy & I were coming back from break we saw Rob walking them over, & he dropped a bottle. With his clumsy, chubby, butterfingers starting the gears of that pea sized brain of his, he shook up a couple bottles of soda because he thought it would be funny.
In his excitement to see the fruition of his labor, Robby J waited around in the conference room for twenty minutes. By the time everyone started gathering around for the meeting Rob had already eaten two of the pizzas, most of the sodas were flat from his constant shaking of them, & the one that did explode got all over the main presenter & his laptop. With the presenter’s outfit & company equipment ruined the meeting was canceled & we were all e-mailed the boring ass power point that we would have had to sit through.
I’m not sure if Rob got in trouble for this, but I haven’t seen him since the meeting. If I did see him I’d want to thank him for a job well done, but I’d probably just end up telling him to “Fuck off, & get back to work.”
Busy Work
I don’t like busy work, & you know what? They shouldn’t even call it busy work. It doesn’t keep me particularly busy. They should go off of a case by case bases & either call it “Work to do because you’re so goddamned awesome at your job you now have some free time,” or “This is the only work we can scrounge up on short notice to keep you busy while we figure out a reason to fire you.” If you hadn’t guessed already I’m talking about Rob & me, I’ll let you ponder which type of work each one of us is doing today.
But unlike usual, today’s busy work has been fun for me. I get to work in the supply office. A couple of the guys over here were “forced,” to use some of their vacation days. So I get to sit in & play the part of a supply guy. It’s been easy so far, I get to read & write all day. Which, for me is about the most fun one can have at work without looking like a slacker (though the latter doesn’t usually bother me either).
I couldn’t tell you what Rob has been working on these last couple of days. I think he’s mostly been sitting around, picking his nose, & charging his time to a project that the office isn’t working on anymore (which is going to make payroll flip their shit when they find out, I can’t wait). But all that’s irrelevant to me right now because I don’t have to look at him & I have the next two days off. *Sigh* It’s a good feeling.
It’s like Billy Mays has reached me from beyond the grave, offered me a deal on a great work week & threw in not having to see Robert J for free. I’m sold!
