Today we all received a memo from Trudy in HR regarding “office attire” policy.
Trudy was reminding us that: “Women should not wear cut off shorts, tube/halter tops or have underwear exposed.”
“Women” not “men.”
So either us guys aren’t a problem or our underwear is considered acceptable for public viewing. If I had the nerve, I’d show up tomorrow in a belly shirt just to see which it is.
The email was actually directed at Naline.
Since it’s gotten warmer, Naline has started wearing less clothing. A lot less clothing.
Rumour has it that somewhere on the 23rd floor there was a recent Naline thong sighting. Apparently it caused a major panic. Thank goodness no one died.
Naline, bless her exposed belly button, wrote Trudy a rather surprising email and Cc’d all of us on it.
Trudy,
I agree. Exposed undies are a problem. But we need to remember that some of the ladies here are on the extra large size and are packing more reinforced armour than Sherman Tanks. It’s only natural we’ll catch the occasional glimpse of orthopedic girdle.
The “extra large” crack was aimed squarely at big Trudy.
We’ve started an office pool on “How long until Naline gets fired?”
Later, I asked Typhoid Mildred if she was upset that she wouldn’t be allowed to wear halter tops anymore.
She squinted, called me a “prat” and then said “it means no more ogling my body for you, ya bloody useless wanker.”
Then she went back to her filing.
Please wear a wifebeater or a plumber’s belt! I hate these damn double standards.
Me too.
I’ll go with a plumber’s belt. Tomorrow, Hamish Industries becomes “Alan’s Ass Crack Town.”
😉
I just have two words for that.
Anal Rut
If the ass crack fits…
😀
The women in your office are scary.
For that matter, so are the men.
And I’m not even touching the “extra large crack”.
I have a 10 foot pole, if that helps.
You don’t want it back do you?
Speaking of shorts. Where I work, we aren’t allowed to wear shorts, but we can wear ‘capri’s’ and skirts. Capri’s on me end up being shorts, and some of these women wear skirts that are shorter than my swimsuit.
They might as well just work naked.
That’s very interesting. Very interesting… I’m doing some research on this and some pictures might be very helpful. Would you mind? Take a lot of them, please. And from many different angles.
On a more serious note: Yes, I’d like the pole back. I have a 10 foot pole washing machine. It’s a Maytag.
On a truly serious note. So, skimpy skirts, but no shorts? I don’t get it.
Yep, skimpy skirts, but no shorts. And there are about 200 men where I work and 15 women. You can tell what kind of women they are the first day they show up to work. I’ve never seen so much thigh or cleavage in my life that wasn’t my own.
I’ll take pictures. They won’t mind. I do think I should let you know that the women where I work all look like Trudy.
Well… I have a case of whiskey.
I was going to send it over to you because legend has it “no one can swing a whiskey bottle like Claire Collins.”
But, now that I know the images are on their way, maybe I’ll just keep the whiskey for myself.
Waiting with bated and wheezy breath.
I notice you still want the pictures. Ah, the desperation of Alan.
Too bad that whiskey swinging cameo got cut. Fame is fleeting.
Send me half the whiskey so I can take the pictures and you keep the other half so you can look at the pictures without yacking.
The pictures are of no use to me without the whiskey. It’s a “peanut butter in my chocolate/chocolate in my peanut butter” dealio.
Still…
Right now my biggest concern is that you will once again get drunk, brain me with a whiskey bottle, and then not remember that you did it.
But a bottle to the head is less painful than photos that will make me yack.
Okay…
I trust you.
I think…
Trust me.
I dare you.
Well… Garsh! Heck! Okay, then…
(sings ala Disney’s Goofy) Yo dee doe dee doe…
So innocent and trusting. Especially when I’m armed with whiskey bottles.
*hic*
oh. ‘scuse me.
Didn’t Bugs Bunny once say, “Poor little maroon. So naïve and trusting?”
I think he did.
But I don’t think he’d been chugging back the whiskey.
Crack cocaine was his personal demon.
I think he’sh the one who sayed, “Was up Dog?”
No, he.. he said, “Watt’s up Donk?”
Wait.. wait.. What’d he thay, er say?
Where’d my bottle go?
Wouldn’t I have to work there to be on the team? And let me remind you that the people there scare me.
This writer needs methamphetamines! Stat!
Dat’s not wha’ he said neither.
*hic*
“What’s anal Doc?”
Nah, dat’s noddit.
Crap, how did I end up way up there? Move me around please.
The meth should be kicking in anytime soon…
Anytime…
I guess I didn’t hit you with the bottles hard enough?
No, you swing a plenty heavy whiskey bottle.
If you can swing a bat like you can a bottle, I’m sure you’d be welcome to join the Hamish softball team.
Slugger Collins!
Ok, how much meth did you put in my whiskey anyway?
Your usual amount.
Give me more next time.
Hahaha!
Can do!!!!!!
Women get away with way too much.
If a situation calls for a man to wear a jacket why don’t women have to wear them as well.
Suit for men…Suit for women.
And don’t get me started that skorts are proper attire…if so, I am wearing my sHorts to work.
I say wear them. Are they skimpy and do they flatter your thighs and bring out the ‘zing’ in your belly button?
If so, then you must! You must!
An incident with Naline that didn’t end with too much information or a gentle punch in the shoulder… that’s an improvement, right? What color is Carlita’s thong?
Yes. And no mention of a yeast infection. Yahoo! Things are looking up, RR.
Naline’s thong is bright red.
I’ve only seen Carlita’s thong in my dreams. It’s pink. Oh, and it can sing and dance – and it usually, and inexplicably, turns into a golf club that then goes limp and starts crying and screaming, “I’m melting! I’m melting!”
Huh. Go figure…
That’s freaky and alarming. You’ve totally ruined golf for me.
I don’t think it has anything to do with golf. I think it’s more based on my fear of Freud. After all, the architect of therapeutic culture is an inescapable force. Do you hear me? Inescapable!!
So in the spirit of no escape from Freud take my little quiz.
Remember, there are no right or wrong answers as all are up for Freudian interpretation and diagnosis… Which means “penis envy” if you’re a woman and “castration complex” if you’re a man.
It’s really that simple!
Sigmund Freud was born in…
a) His mother’s womb
b) He wasn’t so much born but just happened to materialize one day
c) None and all of the above
Freud’s mother used to call him…
a) Cock nose
b) The bane of my wretched life
c) The one who does the laundry
Before deciding on medical school Freud had planed to pursue a degree in…
a) Being a pompous asshole know-it-all
b) Waste disposal
c) Cigar rolling
As an adult, Freud was most likely to talk about…
a) Doing the nasty with mom then killing dad
b) How sweaty his balls got during the summer
c) Serbian bean soup
Freud’s famous patient “Little Hans” was afraid (afreud!?) of…
a) Freud
b) Freud’s mom
c) Freud and his mom
The “illusion” to which Freud referred in the title of his book, “The Future of an Illusion” was…
a) Show business
b) A Viennese stripper’s pasties
c) Austrian comedy
Freud coined the term…
a) I’m the man
b) Hug my, I’m Czechoslovakian
c) Shit happens in therapy
Freud spent his last year in…
a) An Iron lung
b) A Mexican brothel with Bill Clinton
c) A state of drunkenness
I hate pop quizzes, thank goodness I studied.
1. c
2. a (but I thought it was coke)
3. c
4. a & b are the should be the same answer
5. d (himself)
6. c
7. c
8. d (all of the above)
How’d I do?
Really well!
You win a lifetime supply of Serbian bean soup and a dream date with Ms. Austrian Bean Queen.
Here’s a little taste of what you can expect on your dream date:
You’ll start the evening getting to know each other as you share a romantic pre-dinner drink in her father’s shack. Bring an axe. You’ll know why when it happens.
From there you’ll dine in one of Austria’s finest fields. You’ll get to know the real Ms. Austrian Bean Queen as she and her brothers pin you down and tickle you in ways that hurt more than they should.
Next they summon up the ghost of Freud who categorically proves you have extreme paranoid tendencies, and a repetition compulsion, repetition compulsion, repetition compulsion.
Finally, your date really begins when the two of you check into Vienna’s Fantasy Land Hotel and Ms. Austrian Bean Queen requests the Marquis De Sade suite and five live ducks. As for sex, well the way she sees it, it should be caring, loving, and worth the 200 bucks she charges.
I’ve never won anything in my life… AWESOME!
😉
Thanks for playing!
I hope you enjoy your Serbian bean soup, and, most importantly, your dream date with Ms. Austrian Bean Queen.
He’s ruined thongs for me.
Yeah, that Freud ruined them for everyone.
Oh! You mean, Ramblin’ Rooster ruined thongs for you!
Or do you mean, Naline?
You’re confused, “she’s” not a “he.”
Wait… Hang on… Do you mean, me???
Yesh I meen you.
that is..
Yes, I mean you.
Send me another bottle
Okay.
But you need to sober up on cigarettes and amphetamines first.
Sounds like a good mix. Share yours with me?
And pass me another bottle while you’re at it.
In our firm one of the horny guys would loosen the shelf holding the spare paper for the copier, then stack the paper on the floor, ostensibly for safety reasons, but really because he wanted to see the girls bend down for it 😉
This horny guy? I wonder what happened to him.
My theories…
a: Jail
b: Dead in a bordello
c: Fired
d: 42nd President of the United States
Cheers, Ole Phat Stu!
*groan*
We keep the paper for our copier in stacks on the floor under a table. I just now realized why they keep them there. thanks for enlightening me Stu
Groan???
Did you hurt yourself, Claire? I worry so.
Oh. I know!! Undoubtedly it was it from laughing at my fresh and topical Clinton joke! That guy! He’s so horny. It never gets old.
*sigh*
😉
Your concern is interesting. Very interesting.
I’m groaning at the sudden realization of why they keep the reams of paper on the floor where I work. And UNDER a table no less! I didn’t know Clinton got a job in my office. We all know he’s your idol Alan.
I’m just concerned you’re going to hit me with a whiskey bottle.
I’m a HUGE fan of Larry Clinton!
http://www.bigbandlibrary.com/larryclinton.html
Big band is making a comeback, don’t ‘cha know?
23 skidoo!
When this bottle’s empty, you better run.
*takes a long drink*
Duck!
I’m developing ducknaphobia. When I hear a duck, I feel like I’m quackers.
*groan*
Is that a pun induced groan? A Clinton induced groan? Or are you groaning at the sudden realization of why they keep the reams of paper on the floor where you work?
The video is, of course, in honor of Alan Moore, the “duck hating screenwriter” who penned, and subsequently ruined, the movie, “Oh, That Jason”
To read more about “Oh, That Jason”
Alan, you must test the guy’s dress code. Guys definitely need to know their boundaries.
Well… I do own a belly shirt.
😉
Nice to see you, yorksnbeans!
tell me alan….what exactly IS a belly shirt? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a guy where anything that would be called such a thing.
I’ll tell you… in rhyming couplets…
Here’s the dirt
On the belly shirt
Here I go, I won’t stop
Until you see it’s a crop top
That lets you take a little gazel
At the teeny tiny navel
That it shows off
At the mid riff
It’s not a skirt
It’s a half shirt
That’s the dirt
On the belly shirt
okay, now that I’ve got the scoop on a belly shirt, pleeeeeassse don’t have a beer gut if you choose to wear one to work!
I don’t have a beer gut.
I do have a tail. I keep it tucked in my pants. The back of my pants.
😛
(Why is it guys with beer guts are always the first to take off their shirts on hot summer days?)
You should go to work with a man thong hanging out the back of your pants. That would be funny……uncomfortable, maybe a bit emasculating…..but funny none the less.
🙂
Uncomfortable…
Emasculating…
Funny…
…Funny!
If it’s funny then I can deal with uncomfortable and emasculating!
Okay! I’ll do it! Thanks, Eric!
Good to see you.
Trudy sounds a lot like every HR Rep. on the planet! It’s like they emerge from a layer of hell that even Dante couldn’t comprehend. Or maybe they’re cloned in a secret laboratory at CERN. It’s ironic that ‘human’ is in their title, there is no way they are human! They seem like what a computer model would come up with if you typed in ‘professional attitude and demeanor.’ It comes close, but doesn’t quite pull off the ‘human’.
Naline sounds like a lot of fun! Does she have a ‘tramp stamp’ tattoo? Does she bowl? Is the ..uh… infection clearing up? If so please give her my number! I’ll take her somewhere nice, maybe TGIF!!
Hey Scott,
Nice! Yes, gotta love the irony. I always thought the “H” was for “humorless.”
I think it’s the third circle of Hell from which they emerge. “Gluttony for punishment.” Let me fact check. Hang on…
(music plays)
Okay, I’m back. Yup. Third circle.
From Dante…
Then from a HR, Big Trudy appeared
To Naline spake: “Return, and be fired,
And not from a canon, nor a canonization.
But from thy sarcastic stigmata burned ass.” Onward we moved,
Trudy, the faithful HR monster, by my side
The florescent lights brightening the crimson-seething flood
Whence, from the cubicles, loud shrieks arose…
P.S. Scott.
I forgot to mention… Before I give you Naline’s phone number to set up a love connection at TGIF…
Lemme know if you’ve reconsidered.
😉
I think one of my girdles is orthopaedic
Don’t think I’ve seen that one on Corset Friday.
When all the guys strut around with their pants around their ankles, revealing their Star Wars boxers, that’ll be the day.
The day we all go blind!
😀
on May 28, 2009 at 5:38 AM | alantru :
This writer needs methamphetamines! Stat!
I feed my six year old little white tablets that sound something like those 😀
Flintstones Methamphetamines?
😉
I USED to wear mini-skirts and dresses to work, until one day I was ill with the flu, and couldn’t stop coughing ….
The rather elderly gentleman who was the Chairman of the company came past my office, and in his poshest accent (you know the schoolmaster with hot potatoes one) said “If your attire (I think he meant clothes) weren’t so skimpy, you wouldn’t be coughing like that” (Grumpy Old Fart)!!
I never again had the balls to wear skimpy clothing to that job again (actually I don’t have those either …. balls I mean)
Hahahaha!
I am relieved to learn you don’t have balls, Julie.
(Although there’s nothing wrong with them, in fact when they clang together they make a pleasant sound…But this is another post for another day, and, really, women with balls is my issue, not yours, and something I’ll need to work through. Therapy helps… Wait… where am I going here?)
This GOF and homosexual boss of yours… You could let him know that the common cold” illness has nothing to do with cold weather (hey, look at me, dispensing half assed unproven medical advice on the internet. Bet that’s never happened before!) this would allow you to start wearing your mini-skirts to work.
I’ve also noticed a second reference to “hot potatoes.” I am unclear and curious about what a hot potatoes accent is. Would you mind illuminating me when you have a free moment? I’m not asking you to start cyberslacking, or anything, I know that’s not in your nature. 😉
Actually, I’m at home now, so I can do all the cyberslacking I want 😀 … although that isn’t exactly true beause no one pays my salary to slave away at home. So I’ll just skip making supper (I think you call it dinner?), and pretend I’m cyberslacking … one night without food shouldn’t do them any harm!
I left the job that the GOF was at, and moved to the company I’m at now ….. wearing skimpy, short dresses was a definite no-no as I soon, to my absolute disgust realised! My office was on the 2nd floor at Head Office, and I had to walk up a flight of stairs …. I happened to turn around one day, and saw about 12 pairs of goggle eyes at the bottom of the stairs …. bloody pervs 😯
Women with balls? Sheesh, I run a mile when I spot them …… definitely need therapy if one of those touches me!
Hot potatoes? OMG how am I going to desribe this? Pretend you have a really hot potatoe in your mouth, and speak poshly with a British accent ….. 😆
I call it din-dins. It gets me looks. None of which make me feel very secure.
Am I wrong, Julie, or did your neighbours also once get a wee bit of a peep as well? Something about winter… No leaves on the trees… A bathroom that wasn’t working?
I’ve been doing my research! 😀
I just stuck a hot potato in my mouth and spoke posh. Here is what it sounded like…
Alan: “Agggggggggggggggggggggggggh! I say, old bean, don’t you know my mouth is on fire? AggggggggggggH! I say! It’s rather painful, eh, wot? Aggggghhhh! Will someone be a treasure and drive me to the hospital? Aggggggggggggghh!
Not THAT hot 🙄
Serves you right for that little bit of “research” you did! Spreading rumours …. tut … tut …. 😆
P.S. I’ve left a question for you earlier today on that “loony” site (on the Daily Chat), so when you amble over later, I desperately need an answer … or else I may lose my job tomorrow 😳
P.P.S. Nobbles despises these little yellow things that we pop all over our posts 😎 , but he’s off camping for a few days – I never thought to ask if he’s off to a nudist camp with Naline 😀
My moff is full uff gawze… I sound wike I hab a cowd.
😉
I was just on my way over there. So see you on the other side.
Yes, NobblySan and crabby old Don Mills are simpatico on the yellow faces. They are both vehemently passionate on the subject. They don’t like ‘em. Nope. Not at all.
🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂
If he’s off “camping” with Naline, I hope he’s wearing a nerking condom.
😆
I love those office memos that go out to everyone, when there’s really only one person to whom it is addressing.
I also love that I now rank on the first page (well, there is only a first page) for “Blue Balls the Clown” (with quotations) on Google. I can only imagine this is a pretty highly trafficked search term.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
I search it everyday!
Too rich for words!!!
Rumor has it a lady try to pull off a hyper pink tack suit in my office. I’d say it looked bad, but trying to take a gander was like to staring at the sun.
If everyone stared at, and staring at it is akin to staring at the sun, then you would all go blind.
And while blindness by masturbation has always been my preferred choice, with an office full of blind people, you really would have ‘the blind leading the blind.”
Can’t help but wonder what Robert J would say about all of this…
http://ihaterobertj.wordpress.com/
Good question. It was before his time. But my best guess would be… Nerk?
Correct! We have a winner!
You win a lifetime supply of “Nerk In A Can” and a dream date with Ms. World Nerk.
Here’s a little taste of what you can expect on your dream date:
You’ll start the evening getting to know each other as you share a romantic pre-dinner drink in a cat litter box. Bring a friend. Just have fun!
From there Ms. World Nerk will bake you a home cooked meal of “Has Been Bean Soup.” Yes, it’s cold and inedible. But damn, that lady is hot and tasty! Next, you’ll get to know the real Ms. World Nerk as she and her cousins pin you down and tickle you with a slotted spoon. Sure, it’s disturbing and uncomfortable. But it’s also oddly fun.
Next it’s time for the annual pastime of nerkdom. A game of Twister! Who knew contortion could be so awkward? And yet – oddly fun!
Finally, your date really begins when the two of you check into The Nerk Fantasy Land Hotel and Ms. World Nerk requests the Marquis De Sade suite and seven live ferrets. As for sex, well the way she sees it, it should be caring, loving, and worth the 200 bucks she charges.
Alan,
I noticed that this is the second time you’ve referenced slotted spoons.
I’m concerned about you, Alan. It’s been a while since your last appointment. Maybe you should call the office and make one for next week.
That spooning thing is definitely something we should look into more deeply.
Slip-ily,
Siggy
Dr. Sig,
As tempting as it is to edit the “slotted spoon” above to, let’s say “gravy boat” I have refrained. It took much strength, but refrain I did.
But I am concerned. This Donald Mills fellow you mention. I’ve never met him before and nor would I dare to put words in is mouth. I am sure that in his day, if, as a young scallywag, had he dared to put words in his father’s mouth, his dear old dad would have washed out his mouth with a gravy boat and then jammed a bar of soap up his backside and made darn good and sure the unclean devil in him was sanitized, sterilized and exorcized. A working theory, at any rate.
You’re a tad confused, I fear, Dr. Sig. I hope you haven’t been using cocaine again. As I recall you even prescribed it to your father. Perhaps a weekend in a Baden Baden spa is what you need. The aroma therapy rooms are, I’m told, very therapeutic and relaxing.
I will confess to a fondness for spooning, however. And I promise not to tell Don what you said. I think it might get his goat. And we don’t want that happening. 😉
Let’s say next Monday, shall we? I look forward to helping you in anyway I can.
Your concerned friend,
Alan Truitt
Alan, Alan.
Notice the link is to comment #706, which, judging from the dog faced avatar, is you or one of your kin.
And also, it has your name on it.
“Nothing says “beat me unconscious” like a slotted spoon…”
Ring a bell? When you call my receptionist, make sure you mention the word “delusional” and “suffering from a psychic break.”
See you soon
But… I… You… Therapy… Neurological… Redefinition of Sexual Desire… Transference… The Unconscious… Repression! Repression!! Repression!!!
Nerk!!!!! Nerk!!! Nerk!!!!! Nerk!!!!!!!!!!
*sigh*
See you on Monday…
P.S. You win this round, Sigmund.
Wait!
Siggy, Siggy, Siggy…
Notice the link in comment #706, is in reference to the actual post. I was but merely quoting Donald Mills from his own posting.
They said your research was faulty due to your cocaine binges, Freud.
Alas, I suspect they were correct.
When I drop by your reception to help get you sorted out, I’ll try not to mention the words “research” and “suffering from a drug-induced psychic memory break.”
I’m here to help. See you on, Monday.
I’m glad my nonsensical jabbering led to such a heated debate! Face it Al, I am your muse.
Hahaha…
Well, I have been searching for a muse. Please send along your CV. I think you have the right stuff, deathinfrance. 😉
But upon reflection, I must admit that the good doctor does raise some valid points.
There’s a reason he’s called “The King of Shrink Town” or is it “The Father of Modern Day Psychology”?
I always get those two confused.
And he’s always been there for me with my Oedipal Issues. Plus, there’s my transference – I love that lil’ Austrian guy!
The cocaine tends to heighten my senses, Alan. It’s the opiates that leave me confused and inattentive.
Nonetheless, I’ll see you Monday for spoon discussion.
I suspect there’s more to this than meets the eye. Make sure you pack a lunch.
(I’ll bring the wine.)
P.S. Transference works both ways, you know.
Why, Freud!
All those months of me on the couch, and you not saying anything!
You psychoanalytic sly-boots, you!
And now counter-transference!
Plus opiates, wine and spooning!
Is this is a dream?
If so… What does it mean?
😉
Wine
To dream of drinking wine, symbolizes festivity, celebration, companionship, satisfaction and success. You are content with the way your life is going. The dream may also be a pun on “whining” and how you like to whine about things. In particular, to dream that you are drinking red wine, signifies excess and sensuality. If you are drinking communion wine in your dream, then it represent some spiritual celebration or ceremony.
To dream that you are breaking wine bottles, signifies overindulgence in your desires and passion. Alternatively, it symbolizes the masculine.
Spoons
To see, or use, spoons in a dream, denotes favorable signs of advancement. Domestic affairs will afford contentment.
To think a spoon is lost, denotes that you will be suspicious of wrong doing.
To steal one, is a sign that you will deserve censure for your contemptible meanness in your blog. 😉
To dream of broken or soiled spoons, signifies loss and trouble.
To want to spoon with your shrink is just wrong. Unless it’s me.
Freud!
Thank sausages, trains, and cigars you’re here!
You speak in parables, Freud. I guess that has something to do with your messiah complex. I though we’d worked all that through last session. Remember? Me telling you to put down the cross, you promising to knit me the eye of a camel with your needle?
But you’re right about my whining. Especially on the subject of spoons. You were wise and all knowing to beat me over the head with a… a… a… a slotted spoon. (It was a slotted spoon wasn’t it?). I deserved it for questioning your comparing the id, ego and superego, to the urban, rural and suburban. You’re a genius, good doctor. I see that now.
I think this transference and counter transference thing is going very well.
Yes, this looks like the beginning of a beautifully disturbed relationship.
P.S. Please don’t tell me my time is up. I couldn’t bear it.
@ Claire:
It could just be that they keep the copy paper under a table at your office for the same reason they keep it under the table in my office. ie: boxes of paper reams are HEAVY! Because I’m the bigest and most anal retentive in my office, I carry them in all the time, and they weigh quite a bit. … Checking the box, it’s 20 lbs which I guess isn’t that much, but it’s more than anyone in my office wants to lift any higher than neccesary.
@ Alan:
Loving your blog. I bookmarked it a week or so ago when I first discovered it and have been checking back every few days. Every new post is straight out of one office or another I’ve worked at over the years.
On topic:
I had a similar memo go out a few years ago where I used to work. I discussed it in private with our boss. It went something like this: “What’s with the new dress policy?”
“Amber across the hall from you was coming in dressed in a way that was distracting other employees.”
“I know. Thanks a lot, Jerk.”
😉
🙂
Hey Rick,
First off, thank you for the kind words. They are truly and greatly appreciated.
I shall leave it to Claire to wade in on the thorny paper issue that was raised by Ole Phat Stu. I suspect Claire is extremely hungover as she spent the night drinking bottles of whiskey and then battering me about the head with them. Suffice to say, we both have pretty bad headaches today.
On the subject of the “Ambers of the office world” I think there was a YouTube video last year about an office girl who had to reload the copier with paper stored on a high shelf just above the copier.
Alan, you kept asking me over and over to show you my infamous whiskey bottle swing. I don’t know why you stood up every time I swung.
When you stopped standing up, I thought you learned your lesson. How was I supposed to know you had a concussion?
Pass me some aspirin. And another bottle
Okay…
But new rule: From now on, I get to wear a helmet.
I’ll let you borrow mine.
But you need yours for falling down drunk.
Wait a second…
You just want me to get closer so you can brain me with a whiskey bottle!
Nice try, Claire. Nice try.
Damn, I was so close.
ummm okayyyy….
Don’t wear the helmet…
I’ll get you my pretty, and your little dog, too.
Whew, thanks for the reality check, Rick.
I guess tomorrow I need to remove the 50 reams of paper I stored on top of my desk. Maybe then I can see my computer again.
Come (sic!) to think of it, wasn’t there a YouTube video last year about the office girl who had to reload the copier with paper stored on a high shelf just above the copier?
Ooo err missus!
Hah!
Ole Phat Stu!
😀
Are you reading over my shoulder?
Just kidding, my friend. I’m reading over yours. 🙂
Cheers!
Alan
Well, it looks like you’ll have to rely on your imagination the next time you want to see some Typhoid Mildred skin. Unless, of course, you already took a picture.
I drew a few etchings. Some would describe them as “artistic.” Okay, yes, there is some exposed flesh. But it’s all very tasteful.
“Women should not…have underwear exposed.” I take that to mean that clearly I can go Commando.
Now where’s that stack of paper on the floor I need to pick up?
Hahahahaha! Fabulous! Go for it!!!
You’re about to become the new office hero, Marissa!
😉
And may I say that your attention to “memo detail” is highly commendable!
Highly commendable!
😀
Well Alan thanks for the heads up! I don’t mind the infection as long as it’s cleared up. I live in Spain so I’m used to the pan de molde. I certainly don’t mind the breast enhancement, and they have medicine to combat the occasional herpies outbreaks (I’ve heard from that nice lady on TV, on the horse, on the beach. She really must have a good life to get to ride a horse on the beach. I wonder if it’s her horse? I wonder if she likes TGIF?) Anyway, I don’t mind her father being an inmate, everybody has a slip up! I don’t mind the alcoholic thing, I still shoot heroin into my groin once in a while, everybody’s human!
The deal breaker for me is the country music. I hate country music (other than ‘lonely’ and ‘family tradition’), and I hate Dolly Parton because she sings country music! So Naline can square dance her achy breaky heart right back out of my life. She wasn’t worth TGIF anyway! Do you know the herpes commercial girl? On the horse. On the beach?
PS. Very nice work with finding Dantes hidden manuscripts! Who Knew?
Hahahaha!
I do know the herpes horse girl. You know she got herpes from the horse, yes?
TGIFB might be a better choice. (Thank Goodness It’s Feed Bag)
I should warn you, that while the herpes horse lady is okay with bestiality (Oh dear, the comment thread has hit a new high), she’s not that “jiggy’ with groin injections. So, I don’t like your chances.
By the way, I would also like to add that it’s highly commendable that you can take the time out of your heroin groin injecting to do that kind service you did to the kitten.
Very kind of you, Scott.
P.S. Dante and I are drinking pals so he shows me all his first drafts. Nice guy. And a total stud when it comes to the ladies.
Wow, how did we get here? Why did it deteriorate so quickly? It starts off with good natured teasing of our esteemed HR colleagues, and now it’s all horse herpes and groin injecting heroin addicts. I guess I’m a bad influence. I bet that’s what your ‘supreme poet but didn’t know it’ friend will tell you!
PS>Tell the herpes girl I’m cutting down to chewing oxycontin”s with Limbaugh on the weekends!!
Hahaha,
That’s okay, Scott…
I will say that I have seen things deteriorate to a lower level and more quickly here. You start with Dante and next thing you know you’re in Rush Limbaugh territory. It’s a common theme around here. 😉
But you win hands down for the thread that manages to include the following themes in but a mere six comments…
HR
Dante
Pan de molde
The occasional herpes outbreak
TGIF
The 3rd Ring of Hell
horse on a beach
Dolly Parton
Achy breaky heart
Alcoholism
Groin injections (usually we stick to “groin mauling”)
Heroin
Saving abandoned kittens
Bestiality
Oxycontin
Rush Limbaugh
I shall now endeavour to turn this into an abstract poem so it all makes sense (because, that’s what abstract poems do, I think…).
Dante from HR flips a pan de molde
Horse on the beach, he muses
Scratches his occasional herpes outbreak
Thanks God it’s Forbidden
In the 3rd ring of Hell
Where bestial Dolly Parton
And alcoholic Rush Limbaugh
Shoot heroin and oxycontin
One day maybe saving baby kittens
To ease the pain
Of their achy breaky hearts
And mauled groins
Wow, I need a drink to continue reading after that.
Great poetry has that effect on me, too.
Wait…
Did I say “great”?
I meant “grating.”
I’m not gonna write a rambling comment. Just a little something for you to think about:
Would you rather have Hamish relocated to Hawaii and thereby have Typhoid Mildred walk by in her new hot pink swimsuit. Not to mention Otto in one of his lemon yellow spandex es?
Are you sure you won’t reconsider, Archie?
I think a rambling comment would be easier to respond to than this brain buster you’ve left with me! 😉
Well, let’s see…
Hawaii – That is good.
Typhoid Mildred in a new hot pink swimsuit – That is not so good.
Otto in lemon yellow spandex – That is horrific.
It’s raining outside and miserable. It’s nice and warm in Hawaii…
Damn…
It’s close, but in the end, like all things in life, it all comes down to Otto in lemon yellow spandex.
I’ll pass on Hawaii.
LOSTL! Exposed Undies! LOSTL!
im blushing!
Bob
Bob,
Thank goodness, you’re here.
I just read your latest entry.
A trying day for you, Bob. A most trying day. You have, of course, my utmost sympathy, and should you require them, a spare set of vomit free shoes.
Say hi to your mum, for me. And remember to eat lots of bran. Fiber is an important part of the diet, Bob.
Whooooooooooooo! Who’s ready to PAAAARRRTYYYYY!
CLT in da hou…
What the fuck..
This place is a morgue. You call this a party? Nothing but scattered thongs and whiskey bottles as far as the eye can see.
This is the right place? Let’s check the invite.
Oh… 9 PM. Damn. I’m blaming this on Daylight Savings Time. Especially Indiana and Arizona, the freak states.
Well, I’m sure there’s a bar open somewhere. I know the dives are.
H & fuckin’ R! Whooooooooooooooo!!!!
Young man, that is a disgraceful display of language. You need to pull yourself together and stop with the potty mouth. Right now!!!!! It’s shocking and perverted. Pull yourself up by your hepped up socks, put on a clean shirt and get a job for goodness sake. A little church might set you right as well. You strike me as the type that is due for some serious wrath. One of those benighted, inimitable, heathen, pagan, infidel types. Always sniggering and snorting opiates and sipping lasciviously on your fancy colored alcohol based drinks – while wearing your fancy pants. I know your type: Forever mocking society with your devil tongue and making the beast with two backs with all the girls. Shocking!!!! No doubt you probably listen to nasty music to boot. Like Mr. Billy Squire and Nickelback. Listen to Big Band music from now on!!!! You hear me! And never disparage Indiana and Arizona, ever again. Understood???
I’ll snigger whatever the hell opiates I want, Millie. And as for the language, if God didn’t want us to swear like sailors, He wouldn’t have destroyed the world with a flood, thus making seamen of all our ancestors.
You heard me.
Which big bands are you referring to? Chicago? Lambchop? Pigface? I already listen to one of those and I’m really in no mood for the others.
Who is this, really? Updike, you bastard. Step on out of the gentleman’s club and fight like the lightweight you are.
Such temerity!
First off, young man, my name is Mildred. But you can call me Mrs. Bodsworth or ma’am. Either is acceptable.
Second: God hates sailors. That’s why he invented the army. To kill them. And don’t think I didn’t notice your little “seaman” joke there.
It was disgusting and awful.
My 9th husband, Rex, used to talk about his “seamen” all the time. He’s dead now. An aneurism – and a golf club to the back of the neck. But that wasn’t me. Ay least they never proved it in court.
Third: I don’t care for you tone. Not a whit. No doubt you picked that snarkiness up from that awful alcoholic Mr. Chad Kroeger.
Forth: Jimmy Dorsey, Paul Whiteman and Glen Miller. Pigface? Lamchop? These sound like characters from a perverted cartoon book. Filth!!!!
Fifth: My name is Millicent Bodsworth, young man. I’ve had to go to a few blogspots and sort out young people who swear and talk about sex. I’ve straightened out that Mr. Jelly Roll, http://fundamentaljelly.com/ that young hussy, Ms. Barely Wearing Any Clothes http://barelyknittogether.com/ and it would appear you may be next on my list.
Finally, Updike? If you are referring to Mr. John Updike then we are agreed. The man smoked, drank and wrote far too much about cunnilingus than is naturally healthy.
No be a good lad, put down that drink and put on some clean socks.
Mrs. Bodsworth-
Temerity is a Lion Tamer trait, which we are inordinately proud of. Snarkiness, too.
We’d no sooner cast off these values of ours than you would your shapeless black dress after a pint of Thunderbird.
As for your suggestion on the big band music: perhaps you would like to contact Don Mills at the Disgruntled Havens Home for the Terminally Unhappy. I’m sure he’d whip out his 78’s, a bottle of rye, split a piece of Beechnut gum with you and you two would be going at it like dry, creaking dust bunnies in no time.
Yeah, Updike has always had trouble writing above waist level, perfect for him considering he does his best work under the desk. Kick him in the junk for me.
I always wear clean socks when drinking. Clean underwear, too. After several drinks, I’m usually pointing out one or the other to horrified bystanders.
Cheers, ma’am. Oh. Kick Kroeger in the junk for me as well. He orders drink after drink and when the tab comes, he’s always miles from the table, chatting up some borderline cutie with self-esteem problems or going all “artsy” and crying his eyes out behind the bar.
I’m starting to warm up to, young man…
I’ve gone over your reply and I didn’t see a single “shit” “fuck” “twat” “asshole” “cum” “piss” “dick” “cunt” “cock’ “cock sucker” “cock smoker” or “fucking cunt of a cock smoker” in any of your paragraphs. Well done! And honestly, was it that hard to refrain?
I’m willing to let the “junk’ line go only because I’m pleased as punch that you don’t approve of Mr. Chad. I was also pleased to hear about your clean underwear. Although I suggest you refrain from showing it to others. You want to show people something? Try showing them some modesty. Honestly…
Anyway, it’s nice we got all cozy like this.
But be warned!!!!!!!!!!! Any more sexy references to me and Mr. Mills will get you nothing but trouble. For now, we’ll play nice. For now, dear. Just remember. I have a series of dead ex-husbands and I’ve never once been convicted of murdering them.
Naline should just go commando. It’s what I do.
You and Marissa could be the commando twins!
🙂
P.S. You rock, jessica o!
Pure hilarity!!!
http://jessicaosrant.wordpress.com/2009/05/29/puck-you-friday-for-mike/
Thanks for the shout out! Duh… I meant to linky-dink your name. Updating….updating…updating…
My pleasure. Thanks for the laughs!
😀
I don’t see what the big deal is about provocative clothing. Isn’t office attraction and sexually charged interaction highly motivating? It certainly makes me never want to call in sick.
I like your style, Toots.
Your worth ethic is also extremely admirable.
I suspect I’d also be a fan of your wardrobe.
I also like your name. Toots. Reminds me of a dame I used to know.
She was a hot little tomato.
It all happened last week…
(*Note. I’m happy to end this here, for now, Toots. You’re a game gal with legs that beat the bandages and eyes that dazzle me like sparklers… Sure, sparklers are responsible for the vast majority of legal firework-related injuries, but that’s the kind of broad you are. Dangerous and shiny. Like a lion’s mouth. The kind of place you were tempted to put your head into even though it meant sure decapitation. No not a lion’s mouth. Like a Venus Fly Trap… Yeah, that’s it… A Venus Fly Trap)
😉
Once again, I am suffering from a thong-sighting flashback. This was not in the workplace, but at a concert.
A gal with some, shall we say, junk in the proverbial trunk, wearing a rather large RED thong and low-rider jeans.
Could not see The Police from our seats, but we got a heapin’ dose of Big Red Thong!
Thanks so much Alan, another vision I can’t get out of my head!
Hahaha!
It’s like I’m reading about your vacation all over again.
I’m laughing even though I know it’s wrong!
😉
“junk in the trunk”
😀
We are here to entertain. Like the freaks in the sideshow!
I like that statement, Aunt Baaa
And to me, at this moment, it sums up the human condition – done right.
We’re all freaks, really, in our own funny, fearless, frivolous, fundamentally loveable and freaky ways.
And I’m very fond of your fabulously freaky family!
(I also enjoy using the “f” words!)
😉
Sorry I missed out. I feel kinda guilty for not commenting, I hate myself. I also feel inappropriately moist. So here’s payback: Alan’s cube is located here:
http://fundamentaljelly.com/2009/05/29/the-return-of-work-space-photos/
Cheers
I’m writing my essay right now.
😉
Welcome back!
But you’re commenting now, so don’t feel guilty, and don’t hate yourself.
We can discuss the moistness later. You may have to change your name to fungusmentaljelly
Don’t you just love looking at all the do-dads and toys on the shelves surrounding Alan’s space? My own desk top has one of those squeezy toys where the eyes, ears and nose bug out of its face when I’m squeezing the life out of it. Fortunately for me, it’s very forgiving.
Also I spy with my little eye, something that starts with “c” on the shelf behind Alan’s desk….a very cute Curious George flashlight, that’s STILL in its box. 🙂
Indeed you do, Spuddy! 😉
It’s my Curious George flashlight. He’s so curious! Or, he was…
I too have a squeeze toy. His name is Bug Out Bob.
He was a gift from a dear friend. Bug Out Bob is loads of fun, and, yes, very forgiving!
😛
To learn what happened to George…
http://www.averyant.com/video_curious.html
Ahhh, a classic! My all time favorite Avery rant ever!
😉
Mine too!
I’ve called large people large before. I didn’t get fired I got promoted to making them lose weight in the military. I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on. I fractured vert in my back working out twice a day with these ladies. I don’t think they broke a sweat. Just got pregnant again to avoid getting kicked out for their thunder thighs and expanding waist lines. I’m going to hell for saying that.
betty,
As far as I’m concerned, everything you say is a slice of comic heaven.
I think Nalines just providing an important motivational tool to come to work. How dare Trudy try to remove that.
Nice!
And I think you’re right, Alex L.
Most of the gentlemen here do seem newly motivated.
And if a half clad, country singing, Dolly Parton imitator with a yeast infection does it for them… Who are we to argue?
How dare that Trudy indeed!
whale tail captain – thar she blows
get your spears ready
Call me Ishmael…
I mean, Alpo.
😉
ммм бьютифильный??????
не хотел случайно сменить тему? Поставить ещё пару виджетови будет симпотнее..ну это вот это будет нормально действительно
Кстати , ты какой Хост используешь 😉 😉 😉
Thanks, Yuri…
Funny, funny, funny stuff.
The three winking faces at the end was the true capper.
You’re a comic genius and I want to share your talent with the world.
I’ll translate for those who don’t read Czechlospamian.
dude where is my Viagra??????
You buy it cheap because your uncle dies and I am lawyer who has his will and his diamonds in Africa. Plus god bless you I am dying of has been bean soup, but you can please her all night long with your massive erection and yeast infection… 😉 😉 😉
Yuri must know Naline very VERY well.
Hah!!!
😉 😉 😉 well!!!
красивенький БЛ0Г
не хотел случайно сменить дизайн? Поставить ещё тройку плагинов от спамераи будет красивее..ну это вот это будет нормально действительно
Кстати , ты какой хоcTuHg юзаешь?
You crossed the line here, Yuri…
I appreciate your cutting edge sarcasm, but sometimes I worry that you mistake profanity and bitchiness for wit. Sure, google-style ads for my choice of flexibility to choose are all well and dandy, and I’m happy that your barristers Gdion Kalu and Tootsie are thrilled to inform me they’ve had success in getting my flouncing fund transferred and that I’ll be receiving my compensation of $3.5M from them. But there’s no reason to bring up penis length, jock itch, crotch rot and Cialis – again! Let’s stick to the the weather. Okay, Yuri?
Obviously, said person who created memo has never, repeat, never worked in state government.
During the spring and summer, the annual memo comes out every three weeks gently reminding the staff what they can and cannot wear while at their office or when they visit the main office.
The lack of fashion sense among the sub 30 year old social workers is enough to make every grown man on this thread cry, and every grown woman on this thread to be incredibly jealous because they ain’t got the physical attributes to successfully pull it off.
Do these scantily clad social workers come with their own pasties and dance poles?
Sometimes.
‘Course, you would have to supply the music.
Sounds pretty fair to me, as men can’t go around topless in an office (shame though, everyone should be able to wear or not wear anything they want, as long as they are hygienic (and that means WASHING as well as wiping after number twos!) but especially on hot days
😀
Sounds reasonable to me.
Hey PJ,
Thanks for dropping by the office.
Best,
Alan
The women in your office seem so hostile. 😀