People Are Sick: Epilogue

A while back I wrote about a software tester that used talk about herself in the third person and required us to perform "phone saves" for each other to avoid painfully long discussions with her. Here's a very funny tidbit.

One day she walks up to me and says, "Hey, I think you know my brother Scott." Hummm...Scott. I can't think of any Scott I know. Really, where would I know him from? "Oh, I'm not sure but I have a picture of him in my cube." This is were I got nervous. Getting trapped in Tracy's cube was as good as clinical brain death. Alright, let's see this mysterious Scott.

I walk into her cube to look at her wedding picture, and there he is in all his rotund glory. That crazy bastard with the Coke bottle and $600 of my money. Click. One more piece of the galactic jigsaw puzzle falls into place. A whole family of crazies. I quickly checked the floor for any signs of a two-liter Fresca bottle with used sponges in it. Phew! She must keep that at home.

So I did what any caring co-worker would do. I told everyone I could find that Tracy came from a long line of whackjobs. By the end of the day everyone in the office had heard the story of the 2-liter Coke bottle. The next morning Tracy sent out an email letting everyone know that she had made cookies, that they were in her cube, and to stop by and have one. I replied to all, "Let me know if you want any Coke with your cookies."

Interestingly enough, Tracy took a bunch of cookies home.

Where Did the Soap Go?

It used to be that when I was done doing yard work, fixing something, or simply relieving myself that I could go to the sink and find a bar of soap to wash my hands. Now my house has been invaded by Washes, Sanitizers, and crap with names I can't even pronounce.

When I stand there preparing to wash my hands I have this pump staring at me. It's filled with Mango Splash Tone Foaming Hand Wash with Cocoa Butter. Yeah, that's how I want to smell. Like I've been fondling fruit. Then there's the stuff in the other bathroom, Melon Berry Hand Sanitizer with Exfoliating Beads. I want to find the numb-nuts that started using the word "exfoliating" as a marketing tool so I can exfoliate him with my wire grill brush. This crap just looks expensive. I'm afraid that if I use more than a drop my son is going to have to get a scholarship in order to go to college. I don't need that kind of pressure. Not after I just relieved some.

What happened to man soap....bar soap. It's messy but effective. Just like men. Zest, Irish Spring and the father of all man soaps....Lava. You want to exfoliate you little marketing bitch? Here try some Lava. That crap'll even get the mustard stains off Michael Moore's face. That's soap. But we don't have soaps anymore. There's specialty goo for body parts; hand wash, face wash, foot wash. You marketing people really want to open up a new market? Start making sack wash. Make is smell like chocolate. In fact make it taste like chocolate. Then you'd be making something I guy would buy. My new rule of thumb. If glycerol isn't a by-product of making it, I'm not using it.

Men, this is a call to arms. Go to the store and buy a real, honest-to-goodness bar of soap. Actually make it two. Go home unwrap one, wash your hands with it, and then lay the sudsy bar on the counter. Scratch your crotch. Reminder yourself you're a man. Put the other one in your coat pocket. The next time you're at a dinner party and you meet someone new find out what they do. If they make, market, or sell Smelly Anti-bacterial Ass Wash with Aloe and Ginseng, take them into a corner and dry wash them with that extra bar of Lava. It'll be a liberating experience.

People are Sick!

Have you ever had that one defining moment in your life that clearly and firmly lowers your opinion of the human species? I've had several, but none so powerful or so disturbing as the one I'm about to share. This is not a story for the weak of heart (or stomach). Continue reading with caution, you have been warned.

Shortly after college I was stuck looking for a roommate. Now, as many of you know, this is worse than looking for a date. You end up with a friend of a friend of a friend that you meet and realize that a lot of those that people call friends are just drinking partners from whom they can't find a way to escape. Needless to say, I'm not friends with that person anymore.

So I get a new roommate, let's call him Scott (because that was his name). Scott was, and I put this kindly, not attractive. This unattractiveness was due in large part to his uncleanness. He looked like a cross between Drew Carey and Conan O'Brien; a red-headed porker with oily skin and a stink. Better yet, picture fat bastard with a little less weight and a central New York accent. He also had unspeakable foul habits. On top of these issues, he never seemed to have his rent or bill money on time. Ultimately the bastard ended up owing me about $600. If I thought I could track him down and beat the money (plus interest) out of him without catching a communicable disease I would stop typing and going hunting right now. But he was my only option.

Scott was a hog's man. I can't, in good conscience, use the term ladies because they were barely identifiable as human females. Most losers with even a little self-respect would have found other ways to satisfy their man-needs. But not Scott. I could count on Scott to bring home about 500 lbs. of pork a week. And he'd be all proud, "She's hot isn't she?" Yeah, hot like someone took an iron skillet to her face. Big thumbs up Scott, enjoy. You've got your hands full there. One time he stumbled out of his room early on a Sunday morning with nothing but his sheet wrapped around him. "We didn't wake you up did we?" Ahhhhh...imaginary stimulation of the visual cortex reaching critical levels. Vent the thoughts...vent the thoughts!

One day I was looking for a book, I believe it was a Physics textbook, and remembered that Scott had borrowed it. As I think back now I can't imagine why he wanted it, other than to either A) Impress the hogs, or B) disprove Newtons theory of a universal gravitation constant through empirical research with massive objects. My guess is the former.

Scott wasn't home and I really needed the book, can't remember why and you'll soon understand my memory issues surrounding the event. I opened the door to his room. It was littered wall-to-wall with garbage; dirty clothes, empty pizza boxes, and the like. Like Arthur casting his eyes upon the holy grail, I spotted the book across the room on a side table. I began to traverse the disaster area, hopeful to get in and out of the room as quickly as possible. This desire to move with speed may have been my biggest mistake. Almost to the book, my foot kicked something solid. I looked down and saw an empty two-liter Coke bottle. Or is it empty? This is the old school black plastic bottomed bottle and it looks like there is something in the bottle, but it doesn't appear to be Coke. I looked closer...that's strange. So, like the curious dumb-ass that I am, I picked it up and took an even closer look. What the hell? Are those....? I froze. Confounded. I can't really be seeing that can I? Finally instinct kicked in and I dropped the bottle faster than Palmeiro's chances for the Hall. The bottle was partially filled with used condoms.

(This is where I give you moment to recover, hope you weren't eating.)

Yes, I said USED condoms. In a two-liter Coke bottle (one-quarter filled). I grabbed the book and ran. I took a shower. I scrubbed my handed. I scrubbed my hands some more. I ate prepared foods for a week (okay I would have done that anyway). What sick f$^% thinks putting his used condoms in a Coke bottle is a good idea. Was he keeping score? Did he not understand how sperm banks work? Think about the process required for getting them in there through that little opening.

I moved out a month later. People are sick.

Movies I Couldn't Finish Watching

I've watch, at least to their credits, movies such as Ishtar, Hardware, and War of the Worlds (2005). I avoided vomiting, homocide, and acquiring a severe case of Tourettes Syndrome by trying to find some redeeming quality that will help me feel like I haven't lost two hours of my life. There are very fews movies that I've walked out of or turned off. But damn it, didn't Lucas show me new ways to make a movie suck.

We rented THX 1138: The Director's Cut. I was asleep within the first 20 minutes. I never fall asleep during movies. Can anyone guess how Lucas was allowed to make another movie after this one? I've got two words for you: Coppola and hummer. Yes I understand this was a student film with a small budget. Clerks was low budget yet somehow Kevin Smith was able to make it not suck, in fact, it's one of the greatest comedies of all time. Now there's a thought. What if Kevin Smith had written and directed the Star Wars movies. At least Return of the Jedi would have shown us what happened to the Death Star contractors.

Anyway, Lucas deserves to be beaten soundly for even releasing a Director's Cut. Seriously, how much did this movie suck before he started his dabbling. The robots look like rejects from the 2020 CHiPs academy. The dialog is vintage Lucas; stiff...like Michael Moore watching The Black Widow pound 44 lobsters in 12 minutes. I haven't cared less about the characters in a movie, since...well...Revenge of the Sith. "Oh Anakin." Damn, I think I just threw up a little in my mouth. Hey is that a refried bean? Oh and the "artistic" soundtrack. Minimal (but crappy) dialogue, and a bunch of background noise made of partial airport voices, and pre-R2D2 computer beeps. I think I even heard the sound of someone putting on knee pads.

I went to Amazon to see what other people thought of the movie. Not that I care what other people think but to find more material. Most of those nut sacks give the movie a 4 or 5 star rating and explain it away with stupid statements like "if you consider that this was Lucas' first actual feature out of film school, you got to give him a lot of credit for it." Um...no I don't, the movie blows. Gee, that meal tasted like ass...but given that it's the cooks first night it wasn't really that bad. Giving a rating based solely on the skill of the Writer/Director is retarded. People are such Lemmings. And then there's the tard who says, "This is a great movie!" but gives it a 1 because it's not out on DVD yet. Head shaking alone cannot convey my amazement.

What movies have you turned off/walked out of? Not that I care. I'm just looking for more material.