Dirty Underwear
After much prodding and poking from my good friend, The Quintessential Negro, I have finally decided to, reluctantly, join the online blogging phenomenon. As you can tell by my name, and the name of this blog, I fashion myself as a man of horror and as a man of humor. While I'm not nearly as scary as the real Stephen King, nor as funny as, say...., Rick Moranis, my working life is full of both humor and horror.
I am currently employed by a very famous school in New York as a member of the Admissions Office. I call my blog the Little Shop of Horrors because we are in many respects a "little shop" in respect to how we function. There are three of us that work in a very secluded region of the school: myself; my boss, the Director; and Babs, my coworker. Over the course of this blog you will hopefully get to know us very well, and you shall all see the horror and humor of our day-to-day functionings.
Today I will start by describing Babs. She is a short older lady in her 60's, somewhat overweight, ok very overweight, and white. She is a nice lady, but she is always running her damn mouth. A typical day at work usually consists of me coming in sometime in the morning, saying good morning to Babs, and then listening to her talk for 8 straight hours to whoever while trying to do some work or procrastinate in between. While listening to her chatter, I have feared for my life, I have been disgusted, but mostly I've looked for someone to tell what crazy shit she had done today.
One normal morning last week, I strolled into the office at 8:30, greeted Babs, and started the day as I usually do - I turned on my computer, I stared off into space for 5 minutes while it booted up, I checked my email, some sports scores, and the news. I was shocked that Babs hadn't lured me from my morning routine by that time, actually to be honest I was ecstatic. Those 15- 20 minutes just when the day is starting is one of the most precious times in my day. It's a time where I can think about nothing, not really worry about work, and just gear up for the day in general. However, I should have known that God wasn't actually smiling down on me this morning. That would have been too good to be true. Something HAD to happen. About 4 minutes into my happiness, Mrs. V rolled into our office. She works with the big big boss of the school. Mrs. V and Babs are pretty friendly with each other, and they often enjoy a good morning laugh once in a while. Anyhow, Mrs. V strikes up a normal conversation with Babs which I, as I always do, tried to ignore. However, in the middle of their conversation, I shifted my focus from espn.com and noticed that Mrs. V and Babs were engaged in a deep whisper! What the hell was going on??? These two old ladies love to gossip, so I just had to know what they were saying.
I turned on the old super hearing and strained to catch a few choice words: "It must have been a joke!"..... "I can't wear that!" and "I bet those girls downstairs do!" And of course there was just endless whispering and laughing. The "girls downstairs" they referred to are the school's development office, which consists of 4 young women in their 20's who I actually really like, and enjoy spending time with. I digress. Before long, I saw Mrs. V whip out a small piece of paper and write something to Babs on it. They broke apart in laughter when Babs read it. The next think I knew, Mrs. V crumpled the piece of paper and threw it into Babs' garbage bin. My eyes lit up as I saw that God had given me the perfect opportunity to employ some detective work.
Mrs. V left the office a few minutes later, and Babs soon went into the Director's office. I saw my chance. I slid over to Babs' desk to look at a calendar, and with the stealth of a cheetah, I peered into the garbage bin and quickly removed a small, slightly stained, crumpled piece of ordinary loose leaf paper. I smiled wickedly and returned to my desk in the corner. I opened up the crumpled paper and in my own whisper I read the words "like dental floss for your butt" scribbled in Mrs. V's handwriting. I lost it right then and there, and almost choked trying to stifle an enormous fit of negro-laughter. It would have been one of those laughs that could have gotten me fired on the spot for reminding everyone that I was indeed a black man that had somehow inflitrated their ranks.
Anyhow, as I mentioned before, God rarely smiles at me in this job. As I returned to my desk from sneaking the crumpled paper to its proper place an aweful picture entered my head. I envisioned both Mrs. V and Babs wearing thongs to work! Oh the horror.
I am currently employed by a very famous school in New York as a member of the Admissions Office. I call my blog the Little Shop of Horrors because we are in many respects a "little shop" in respect to how we function. There are three of us that work in a very secluded region of the school: myself; my boss, the Director; and Babs, my coworker. Over the course of this blog you will hopefully get to know us very well, and you shall all see the horror and humor of our day-to-day functionings.
Today I will start by describing Babs. She is a short older lady in her 60's, somewhat overweight, ok very overweight, and white. She is a nice lady, but she is always running her damn mouth. A typical day at work usually consists of me coming in sometime in the morning, saying good morning to Babs, and then listening to her talk for 8 straight hours to whoever while trying to do some work or procrastinate in between. While listening to her chatter, I have feared for my life, I have been disgusted, but mostly I've looked for someone to tell what crazy shit she had done today.
One normal morning last week, I strolled into the office at 8:30, greeted Babs, and started the day as I usually do - I turned on my computer, I stared off into space for 5 minutes while it booted up, I checked my email, some sports scores, and the news. I was shocked that Babs hadn't lured me from my morning routine by that time, actually to be honest I was ecstatic. Those 15- 20 minutes just when the day is starting is one of the most precious times in my day. It's a time where I can think about nothing, not really worry about work, and just gear up for the day in general. However, I should have known that God wasn't actually smiling down on me this morning. That would have been too good to be true. Something HAD to happen. About 4 minutes into my happiness, Mrs. V rolled into our office. She works with the big big boss of the school. Mrs. V and Babs are pretty friendly with each other, and they often enjoy a good morning laugh once in a while. Anyhow, Mrs. V strikes up a normal conversation with Babs which I, as I always do, tried to ignore. However, in the middle of their conversation, I shifted my focus from espn.com and noticed that Mrs. V and Babs were engaged in a deep whisper! What the hell was going on??? These two old ladies love to gossip, so I just had to know what they were saying.
I turned on the old super hearing and strained to catch a few choice words: "It must have been a joke!"..... "I can't wear that!" and "I bet those girls downstairs do!" And of course there was just endless whispering and laughing. The "girls downstairs" they referred to are the school's development office, which consists of 4 young women in their 20's who I actually really like, and enjoy spending time with. I digress. Before long, I saw Mrs. V whip out a small piece of paper and write something to Babs on it. They broke apart in laughter when Babs read it. The next think I knew, Mrs. V crumpled the piece of paper and threw it into Babs' garbage bin. My eyes lit up as I saw that God had given me the perfect opportunity to employ some detective work.
Mrs. V left the office a few minutes later, and Babs soon went into the Director's office. I saw my chance. I slid over to Babs' desk to look at a calendar, and with the stealth of a cheetah, I peered into the garbage bin and quickly removed a small, slightly stained, crumpled piece of ordinary loose leaf paper. I smiled wickedly and returned to my desk in the corner. I opened up the crumpled paper and in my own whisper I read the words "like dental floss for your butt" scribbled in Mrs. V's handwriting. I lost it right then and there, and almost choked trying to stifle an enormous fit of negro-laughter. It would have been one of those laughs that could have gotten me fired on the spot for reminding everyone that I was indeed a black man that had somehow inflitrated their ranks.
Anyhow, as I mentioned before, God rarely smiles at me in this job. As I returned to my desk from sneaking the crumpled paper to its proper place an aweful picture entered my head. I envisioned both Mrs. V and Babs wearing thongs to work! Oh the horror.
posted by Stephane King at 11:21 AM
1 Comments:
Old people are funny.
1:14 PM
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