This here’s a big-assed disclaimer, added 2-16-2011. Seven years ago, I was very immature. I no longer skirmish with my co-workers, nor do I passive-aggressively direct bodily emissions in their direction in order to make their lives miserable. It was really funny and satisfying that one time that I did it, and having had that experience, I don’t feel that I’ll EVER need to do something this gross, rude, immature, or offensive EVER again. EVER.
It was pretty funny at the time, though. *heh*
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I wanted to let you all know that I am a really horrible person, and I don’t aim to change that.
Today, I found myself implementing retaliatory flatulence. Yes indeedy, I have resorted to farts of mass destruction in an ongoing cold war between myself and an office-mate who only acts like something crawled up her ass and died.
She detests me, and frankly, I loathe her, so the scales remain in balance. It mainly derives from simple interoffice politics and her generally sour personality, so I am not going to go deep into it, I’m only going to say that nothing ever wholly meets with her personal approval anyway, and trying to be nice to her is like trying to kiss a running meat-grinder, so I have given up everything but the barest semblance of civility, and today, I allowed my silent-but-violent ass to do some of the talking for me. And no, I didn’t say “excuse me,†either.
Not that anyone cares, but normally I suppress my gassy emissions until such a time as I can hit the restroom, or at least the ventilated corridor that runs between this building and the next, but since she got all noisily passive aggressive over an innocent joke I cracked to another co-worker, I felt that certain rules of common courtesy might be bent in her case.
You see, early today, I was handed some paperwork which I dealt with, then put into my recycle box. The co-worker to whom I wisecracked then came by and wanted the paper back, so I fished it out of the recycle box and handed it over to him, and he pretended to be grossed out by my taking it back out of “the trash can,†so I mockingly consoled him that at least I hadn’t thrown a boogery Kleenex on top of it first, and my pissy co-worker loudly grumbled, “Oh gross!†and shot me a filthy look. Only my immoderate sense of maturity prevented me from pretending to pick my nose and flick an imaginary booger at her.
I managed to suppress those tiresome adult constraints, however, where ass-gas was involved today, and silently farted in her general direction for about four hours. The fuel tanks have drawn past Reserve now, however, and so my rocket afterburners have shut down. It is just as well for the sake of the rest of the office, I guess.
[…] pressure? Because I can tell you that those days really suck. Now, I’ve been known to deploy retaliatory flatulence when fighting dirty, but thankfully those days are behind me now, and I was doing my utmost to […]