MORONS

This coincides with our previous posts regarding those of a particular demographic, specifically “Bitches" and "Assholes.” I feel it necessary to now delve into a discussion of another undeniable group within society—the large and diverse group of complete and utter MORONS.

It has come to my attention that morons unfortunately do not just amble around aimlessly on the street being stupid and uttering incomprehensible things. Don’t get me wrong, they do this, but it appears that they are also traveling and working among us in a wide variety of capacities, which scares the shit out of me. While I cannot at the moment be completely comprehensive in my analysis and breakdown of the moronic, I promise that I will continue to elaborate in future posts.

The following is a partial listing of some of the morons that you have or probably will encounter at some point in your daily life:

1) The morons that operate NJ Transit:
Example: January 3, 2008, Some moron at NJ Transit decided to wake up this morning and attempt “maintenance” on the path trains, which in reality translated into lighting several path trains on fire. Moron #1 was then joined by a group of several other morons similarly employed who after proceedings all morning finally came to the unanimous and brilliant decision that all path trains into the city should be stopped. Simultaneously, a NJ transit bus driver aka moron (we’ll call him Moron #2) decided to drive his malfunctioning bus briefly through Hoboken and into the Lincoln tunnel and to conveniently break down at the entrance to the tunnel. It’s amazing how few morons it takes to block the majority of NJ pathways into the city. I was lucky enough to finally board a NYC-bound bus in Hoboken being driven by Moron #3, who thankfully appeared to be about 10 years old, mentally retarded, and absolutely incapable of driving. 1 ½ hours later, safe and sound in the beautiful Port of Stupidity, I made my way to the subway, where I was further subjected to the moronic devices of NYC mass transit. But that’s a whole other story right there for another time.

2) Moronic co-workers
As mentioned earlier, the morons among us are amazingly employed and keeping their jobs. I know because I work with many of them. While I must be careful not to go into specifics for this category, I will say this--it appears there are certain morons with whom I work that, a) do not know how to mail something, b) do not know how to answer the phone, c) do not know how to use a typewriter, d) have not yet mastered the concept of normal social communication, and e) appear to suffer from frequent and chronic memory loss. Oh how I wish I could go into further detail.

[As a side, while writing this I am realizing more and more that there is no chance of me avoiding the path towards becoming a complete and utter moron, as I am unfortunately surrounded by too many of them on a daily basis]

4) Moronic clients

Yes, it appears morons often work for the benefit of other morons. Such a scenario can often be found in the legal profession. Where do I even begin? I know I run the risk of offending people here, but who says I haven’t done so already, and guess what? I DON’T CARE. I have been continually amazed by the highly moronic nature of the immigrant clients for whom I continue to provide services for some ungodly reason. If you are going to come to this country to live and work, here are a few suggestions: 1) learn the English language, 2) learn the English language, and 3) learn the English language. Ok perhaps my emphasis on language is being influenced by the fact that I recently received a 20 minute long voicemail from a client who appeared to be under the delusion that I am fluent in Chinese. I will provide more examples of those within this category at a later date, but at the moment, I’m getting too pissed off.

5) Random morons wandering around my office building: I don’t work with them, I don’t know who they are or why they are in my building, but they are there, and they are certainly some of the most frighteningly moronic people you will ever encounter.

Example: My office building, like many others, has more than one floor. In fact, it has about 40 floors. This in turn requires elevators, because people are too fat and lazy to do stairs. In addition, all elevators in the building do not have the same destination. This inevitably leads to some confusion. Correction—this leads to complete and utter chaos. Before you go raving about the injustice of these cruelly ambiguous elevators, please note that there are signs that accompany these elevators, with the optimistic intention of providing clarity to all those planning to ascend. However, this is inherently flawed in that it assumes all elevator-riders are capable of reading. While I guess you could say that for the majority of the day I am usually angry about something, I will admit that this part of my day often provides me with a bit of evil delight. I especially love it when the quintessential moron found within this category boards the private elevator on which I am riding, which is clearly marked by a large sign marked PRIVATE. Moronic elevator rider then proceeds to press his floor of choice, and to his dismay, discovers that the elevator is being uncooperative. His first assumption is not that this is an elevator that only goes to select floors, but that perhaps this is an elevator that requires some persuasion. He therefore proceeds to press his button of choice repeatedly, each hit with slightly more aggression. To his dismay, the stubborn button has still refused to light. He then looks to his fellow elevator riders for support, because perhaps if he gets a mob on his side the elevator will have no choice but to listen. After I have had my fill of enjoyment, I inform him that this elevator will in fact never go to his floor, no matter how hard he tries, and that he will unfortunately have to try another. Perhaps if he had read the giant sign, he might have known. MORON.

I am now dumber after having written this. I am sorry to say that you probably are as well after having read this retarded post. I have also just realized that in my listing of items I accidentally omitted the “#3,” which is surely a sign that I am myself a complete and utter moron.

THE JESUS BLOG

It's resurrected, bitches! In honor of the season... although I suppose that would actually be Easter. Anyhow, we are back in business-- the business of avoiding our subsequent businesses at all costs.

Speaking of seasonal humor, the true inspiration for this came from an amusing incident last weekend. As Christmas is the season of giving, you are sure to encounter on a per block basis a plethora of various charitable solicitations. Where there's a 5 gallon water jug...

Heading towards Columbus Circle, I encountered one such table and plastic jug. However, I judged it to be unmanned with great relief. There's nothing that makes you feel more shit than to ignore the less fortunate on Christmas. (Are holidays not designed ultimately to make us all feel like wretched human beings-- either through self-reflection, being asked "how's your love life" for teh 23058230th time, or blatant disregard for the welfare of others?)

Thankful to actually NOT have to blank the volunteer who you can only assume to be a person with an actual heart who does not in fact merely step over the homeless, I continued to walk on my merry way...

When I hear verbatim:

Heeyyy, Sexy

....... Care to make a donation to the homeless?

Both phrases in the same breath. Are you Serious? With that sales ploy yes I would like to donate my (imaginary) Christmas bonus!!

I have to admit that I was so taken aback that my outburst of laughter came nearly 20 meters past the stand. It took that long to process. Of course now I can only generalize this incident for my own convenience and assume that all volunteers are complete pervs and thus feel OK about never doing a single "nice" thing ever again.

I'm going to go play with the lump of coal I received in my stocking now. Har har har Actually I'm going to go back to drinking the delightful sambuca/espresso, which I employed my coworker to pick up from the corner liquor store...

HAPPY KWANZAA

Narrowly Escaping Death: Terror in the Lab

I know that writing about work is taboo, but since I don't do any work at work anymore, it doesn't count.

Instead I hide at my little dark cubby-hole-corner computer (where I was banished after the one at my desk died) and write on Facebook walls. It's really not that lonely; I am surrounded by hazardous waste containers whose fumes have been making me hallucinate lots of imaginary friends.

Because of the radioactive waste all over the place in my special home corner, it's the only place in the lab where you're not allowed to eat or drink. So of course I blatantly ignore this state law. Typically I have a coffee mug, a water bottle, and some food next to the computer. I even occasionally follow the 5-second-rule. What the hey -- I don't particularly care for children, so it doesn't matter if mine end up being born with 3 heads.

Friday morning, as I was vacantly staring at someone's Facebook profile who undoubtedly I have not spoken to in years, or maybe even ever, whom should arrive at the Bayliss lab but the State of Virginia Safetly Inspectors. They immediately began harassing one of my coworkers about our unlabeled waste containers, threatening $20,000 fines, so naturally she did what everyone in my lab does whenever there is any kind of problem, annoyance, or obnoxious complaining person nearby: direct them to me.

That's right, she led the state inspectors to me in my little corner, where I was at that moment harboring a highly illegal water bottle (think: $50,000 fine for my lab for this). With the computer in front of me blocking their view of the water, they proceeded to stare me down and lecture me on the dangers of unlabeled waste containers. At this point I was pretty much about to pee my pants, thinking that any second they would catch sight of the bottle.

With no other path out of my corner except the one blocked by the inspectors, and no where to hide my water bottle, I thought I was fucked. But then the inspector decided to turn his back for a split second to inspect some other Illegal Hazard on the other side of the room. I saw my opening, grabbed my water bottle and sprinted for the yellow tape that marked the end of the non-eating area.

I crossed the tape, thought I was home free...and the little bastard turned around and caught me. "EXCUSE me, but did I just see you bring that water from your desk?" He sounded like the brown-noser kid in 2nd grade who is pumped to tell the teacher that he caught the retarded boy next to him cheating on the times tables quiz.

(me, breaking into a sweat) "No, of course not, I know that that area is a non-eating and drinking area. I would never break that rule and had just picked up this bottle from the counter right here."

He glared at me, clearly thinking I was full of shit and frustrated that he had no proof. And then he left to harass some other poor undeserving underpaid lab technician.

Sarah: 1, State of Virginia: 0

Wow, girls are slutty

I'll say this is story from a coworker of mine so as to escape explaining how my office rents space from a larger accounting firm as do a few others so while it seems we work together, in actuality we do not. (Oh wait, i just explained it anyway)

So, over the course of lunch today (lovely time spent sitting overlooking the waterfront at battery park) this coworker (aka non-coworking Banker) is going on about a former client of his in France who would like to visit America.

Fine, not a problem. His thoughts are, "wouldnt it be nice to meet up while she was here... grab a drink, etc."

her thoughts are apparently, "I know someone vaguely in America, maybe I can use them for their apartment." I mean that's a bit cheeky but I'd have to admit I'd hit up friends of friends of friends just to avoid paying for even a hostel

his thoughts are, "Ok, you can stay with me... If you FUCK me" actually these are more than his thoughts, these are his words to her-- albeit jokingly...

her response? ....... "Why not" !!! (is it really that easy?)

I guess a kicker here would be that as this sounds like one of those crap stories in Maxim, "Maxim" is in fact the guy's name. Go figure.

"Why"

Why did I drink 7 drinks last night?
Why did I eat a burrito when I got home?
Why have I spent the entire day looking up Bungalow 8 and Tenjune on the internet?
Why am I moving to Kenya?
Why am I writing this blog when I have piles of work right next to me?
Why did I wake up dry heaving this morning?
Why did I tell my alarm clock to S my D?
Why was I rambling incoherently about cat urine last night?
Why am I going on full-fledge benders today, tomorrow, and sunday?

Why?

A Public Service Announcement

Dear Jamie,

Please stop being a bitch.

Love,
Everyone you encounter daily

i'm moving to nairobi

hey, just thought that i would inform all of my loyal readers that i will be moving to africa in 2 months...i think. the goal is to work for a nonprofit and try to return to the US in 6 months still alive. this is going to be quite a challenge, i know, but after 10 months of listening to bb and sm, i feel i am ready to take on this special challenge. i had a dream last night that i was living in nairobi and working at a human rights nonprofit, and everything was fine--i had friends, food, etc--but then one day i was mugged by these guys with machetes. so i guess im a little scared, but im going. so help me god. i

am

GOINGGGGG