TMI Lady

When I first started at my job, I already knew one of the guys I’d be working with. As he showed me around, he came upon this woman and he told me that they called her TMI Lady. “What does she say,” I asked. 

“You’ll see,” he replied. 

For the first few weeks, I didn’t see. She seemed like a normal person. Then, she apparently got comfortable with me. It started off small. Usually, it was a story about her and her husband that wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t something you’d share with someone you just met a few weeks ago. 

One day, we were talking about some actress (I don’t remember who anymore) and I said something about how that actress looked like she had fake breasts. All of the sudden, she looks down at her own breasts and starts telling me that I wouldn’t want to see hers because they’re weird and misshapen. Ummmm…. What???

First of all, if that is true, why the hell would she tell anyone? Second, WTF??? And third, when did I say I wanted to see her breasts? All I said was there was a woman somewhere who looked like she had fake ones. I didn’t say a single word about hers.

I quickly got out of there and began watching what I said around her more closely. 

About 8 months later, when Baby E was around 6 months old, we were talking again. She asked me what Mrs. Revis and I  did for fun. I told her that we had a 6 month old daughter, so we had no free time. And if we did manage to squeeze out some free time, we would play video games together. 

For some reason, she thought an appropriate response to that was, “My husband and I don’t have anal sex.”

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why the hell would you ever say that to another person? What could’ve possibly possessed her to make her think that anyone other than her and her husband needed to know that?

I’m sure that my face was a mixture of disgust and confusion, but all she saw was the confusion because she elaborated. “I’m not against anal sex, or anything. I just can’t do it because it aggravates my hemorrhoids.”

What the everloving fuck?

I didn’t need to hear that. I sure as hell didn’t want to hear that. In fact, nobody on the planet other than her and her husband needs to know that.

From that point on, I did whatever I could to keep away from her. Luckily, she was only there for another six months after that. The pain she created still lives on, however, because they haven’t created a soap yet that will scrub away scarring memories like that one. For a while, I was able to push those things to the back of my mind and not think about them. Then another TMI Lady happened.

This one hasn’t said or done anything as bad as the first one yet, but she’s similar enough that she’s putting the old one back in my head. For instance, I was explaining something work related to the 17 year old girl that works with me. The TMI Lady walks into the room, looks right at her, starts scratching her chest, and declares, “My titty itches.”

Maybe if you washed it, that wouldn’t be an issue. Why don’t you go take a shower, clean it off real good, and stop talking about that shit in front of me? Why should I have to hear about it? And should you really be informing a 17 year old of your hygiene problems. I’m pretty sure she didn’t care about it either.

For future reference everyone, if you have anything personal to say about yourself, take it to someone else. I don’t want to hear it.

DICO – Bleeding Out Part 1

He took two shuffling steps forward down the dimly lit hallway. His body needed to go faster, but there was no energy behind his movements. Looking down at his torso, he saw another drop of blood fall from the bullet wound in his side. Someone had to hear the gunshot. Why wasn’t anyone coming to help him?

The sound of footsteps approaching from behind left him with a mixture of fear and hope inside. It was either someone rushing to his aid, or the person  who shot him was looking to finish him off. He had no way of knowing which. Whoever shot him did so from concealment. Anyone could’ve pulled the trigger.

Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw a man’s frame form in the shadows behind him. The outline didn’t appear to be one of somebody wearing a policeman or security guard’s uniform, but he was able to make out the gun in their hand. Fear lent him an adrenaline boost and he managed to speed up some.

Pain exploded in his shoulder as soon as he heard the gunshot. He fell forward hard, landing on his face without being able to brace himself. The room began spinning in his vision.

“Going somewhere,” he heard his attacker ask.

He wasn’t sure where he got the energy from, but he managed to turn himself over so he was laying on his back. The man who shot him stepped forward, finally passing through enough light so his face was visible. “I know you,” he said from his spot on the floor.

His attacker was Jefferey, one of The Boss’ top men. They had just talked a few hours ago.

“Yes, you do, Mayor Poopenmeyer,” Jeffery conceded. “The Boss wants me to deliver a message to you.”

“What message is that?”

He says goodbye.”

In slow motion, Jefferey’s finger tightened on the trigger. The mayor waited for the bullet to leap from the gun at him. Something flashed by over his head. He wasn’t sure what it was. All he saw was a glint of light flashing off of it. Almost deafening, the gun fired again.

To his surprise, the mayor found that he didn’t have a new hole in him. Instead, he saw Jefferey stumble back a few steps with blood dripping from his nose. “You,”Jefferey cried, looking past the prone mayor.

Poopenmeyer did his best to glance in that direction and barely managed to catch a glimpse of the man who saved him: DICO. The mayor couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so excited to see nipples. Well…

His thoughts were interrupted as DICO threw a second nipple and came closer to him. “Hang on,” he pleaded. “Help’s on the way, Mr. Mayor.”

“You’re late,” the mayor laughed weakly. “What took you so long?”

“It’s a long story…”

Down With the Sickness 

I haven’t done a lot of writing this week (Sorry, Matt!). I actually haven’t done much of anything this past week. I spent more time at the doctor this week than I  did at work.

I went to the doctor a week ago today and he told me that I have pneumonia. He ordered a chest xray. Since the outpatient part of the hospital was closed by the time my appointment was done, I had to wait until Monday to get that done. The doctor said the xray looks clean, so I should’ve  been able to go back to work on Tuesday… That didn’t happen. 

The thing about pneumonia is that it makes it kinda hard to breathe. I could barely walk from my couch to the bathroom without being out of breath. Not to mention the headache inducing coughing fits. I wasn’t going to make it at work all day. So, I missed Tuesday as well.

On Wednesday, I tried to go in. I lasted about an hour and a half. I was still having trouble breathing, and the headache, plus my lungs were starting to hurt. I went back to the doctor. She said there was still crackling sounds in my lungs and that the antibiotics they gave me on Saturday should’ve made me better by then. She then gave me a shot (which she originally said was going to be in my butt, but ended up being in my back. I honestly didn’t care where it was, but I felt kinda stupid after I pulled my pants down and she didn’t stick me there). Right before I left, she informed me that I would be staying home from work the rest of the week too.

Thursday was just a resting day. Friday, I had to go back to the doctor. She listened to my lungs again and said that they sounded better. She also said I’d start to feel better soon, but it might take a bit to be back to normal because pneumonia sucks so bad.

Today, I’m breathing a little better. I’m not coughing as much. I still don’t really feel like doing anything, but I have a 4 year old, so doing nothing is impossible. 
Hopefully, I’m mostly back to normal by Monday. I can’t afford to take any more time off work. Hell, I couldn’t afford the time off  that I already did.

Stupid being sick….

I’m not the guy.

You want a natural or gifted athlete? I’m not the guy. 

Even in my youth, when I played sports a lot more regularly, I was only able to get to be decent at best. I never led my soccer team in goals or had the highest batting average on my baseball team. Nowadays, I’m able to play around with friends and family, usually without making a fool of myself. 

You want a talented artist? I’m not the guy. 

My drawing and painting skills are almost nonexistent. Maybe someday I could improve them, but I don’t see myself having the time to do so anytime in the near future. 

You want a great musician? I’m not the guy. 

I took lessons for two different instruments when I was in school. Both times, just as I was starting to get somewhat good at them, my family moved and I didn’t get to pick them back up. Maybe if I had been able to stick with them, this one would be different. 

You want a hot stud that will turn the ladies’ heads when they walk into a room? I’m definitely not the guy. 

I know I’m no “insert name of Hollywood heartthrob here” and I never will be. I’m well aware that most women don’t find me very attractive. But, you know what? I don’t care. As long as my wife still thinks I look good, that’s all that matters to me. Her opinion means more to me than every other woman on the planet combined.

I also don’t care that I’m not the guy on any of those others either. Sure, it’d be nice to be a big time athlete or a rock star, but I’m not upset that I’m not. You see, if I was any of those other things, I wouldn’t be me. 

I’d rather be me.

Through the Never

I have a playlist in my car that hovers around 700 songs. It takes me about 30 minutes to get to or from work every day (if there’s no traffic….which there usually is), so having music in my car is a must. I also have to have a variety, hence the 700 songs. I’ll just start my car, hit the random button, and hit play. Most of the time, it’ll give me a good mix of songs.

A few days ago, however, it randomly picked 3 songs from Metallica’s Black Album to play back to back. It started with The Unforgiven, then Sad But True, and finished with Through the Never.

Once the final song began playing, a thought occurred to me, and that thought was “For the past 20-something years (25 to be exact as I just Googled it), this song has gotten the short end of the stick.”

When you think of Metallica songs, which one is the first one that pops into your head? If you’re anything like me, it’s Master of Puppets. Start thinking about other ones. Is Through the Never in the top 5? Top 10? Top 20? Hell, I’d be willing to bet that most people wouldn’t have it in their top 5 from the Black Album. Most people would probably name the other two I’ve already mentioned plus Enter Sandman, Wherever I May Roam, and Nothing Else Matters.

To me, that’s a shame.

Now, I will admit that The Unforgiven is my favorite song on that album, but Through the Never is easily the second. And, the more I think about it, it kind of bothers me that it doesn’t get the love it deserves.

I may not change anyone’s mind with this post, but I hope you all at least give it a listen. It’s an awesome song.

I Knew It

For five years, every day that he worked, he walked past a particular spot in the stockroom. And every time he walked past that spot, a vision would pop into his head. In it, he would see the metal  shelves that held the excess merchandise collapsing, crushing him under thousands of pounds of steel and boxes. That vision, he could not escape.

On his first day, he attributed it to nerves. Everyone gets nervous when they start a new job. But still it came the second day, and the third, and all of them after that.

When the pattern emerged, he did his best to avoid that particular spot, but it was no use. To get to the loading docks, you had to walk past it and he needed to go to the docks every day. So, he was stuck replaying this vision over and over again. It haunted him.

When he would tell his coworkers his fears, they would laugh at him, call him crazy, or both. It was something he couldn’t explain properly because he didn’t fully understand it himself. Maybe he really was going crazy.

To his credit, there were a few stretches over the years where he was able to push it to the back of his mind. Like today. It had barely registered with him that he was walking past it.

Then he heard someone yell out a warning. 

He turned just in time to see the forklift veer away from him. By avoiding him, the forklift driver ran the machine into the corner beam of the steel shelves, bending it. Now unable to support the weight, the shelves began to collapse, falling right at him. He didn’t run. He didn’t duck. He just stood there as certain death fell upon him.

A sad smile made its way to his lips as he thought, I knew it. I was right all along. 

Work Burn

When this here blog was still somewhat in its infancy, I did a series of blog relating the burns I laid down on a kid I used to work with that I called Newb. That’s not just me changing his name on here to protect his identity. I actually called him Newb to his face. It was a name he earned by telling me that he had never watched either of the Airplane! movies, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, or Spaceballs. I mean, can you blame me? What else was I supposed to call someone so uneducated in the ways of comedy?

Anyway….

While the place I work at now isn’t all that strict upon what we say to each other, I’ve cut down on the burns I hand out because I mostly work with people who don’t exactly share my sense of humor. That’s not exactly a bad thing, considering some of the things that I find funny, but it also means I don’t have a proper outlet for the things that pop into my head.

On Friday, I had an opportunity present itself that I couldn’t pass up, no matter who was around. Thankfully, nobody got offended. Enjoy…

My team lead stuck a temp with me as a shadow. He was supposed to watch everything I was doing so he could learn some of the hundreds of things I’m expected to do every day. One of those things was taking a skid of radios over to the other company who is in the building with us. When we got over there, the guy who we were dropping the radio off to was someone I knew I could joke around with. So, after I parked the skid, I told the temp, “This is Blah. He’s an asshole.”

The temp introduced himself to Blah. Afterwards, Blah looked at me and asked, “Why I gotta be the asshole?”

“Because you are what you eat.”