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Laid back; chilled out.

Monday, February 06, 2006


Last week was a bad blog week. This week too. I’m rarely this busy but historically, at least for the few years I’ve been an employee at our one-of-a-kind company, [and I don’t mean that in a nice way] February is one of the biggest months of the year, if not the biggest, in sales. That means yours truly really has to step his game up these next couple of weeks. There goes my resolution to write 2 posts every week. All I can do is try, I guess. ‘Normal service’ will resume in March, I trust.

People talk too damn much. Not only that, but they get into discussions or situations that have nothing to do with them and it’s annoying as hell. My boss calls it hijacking a conversation, and that’s the best way to describe it. I hope Mutumia won’t mind as I jock her style yet again.

Exhibit A:
A couple of weeks ago American Idol started and, as is customary, pretty much everyone at the office was talking about it at the waterhole or by the coffeepot.

I haven’t watched one entire episode of American Idol, ever. Not that the show isn’t entertaining – no. I’m not half as much of a TV or movie buff as I once was, for whatever reason. Gone are the days when I used to clear my schedule so I could watch TV. That was probably back in Maragua, when watching Wild Rose, The Bold and the Beautiful and The Rich Also Cry was at par with food and water as basic necessities. [I cringe at the thought that I actually watched soaps and liked it. Wow.]

Moving right along: I was listening in on the American Idol conversation as I was pouring a mugfull of that laxative they call coffee that’s dispensed liberally throughout the premises. I had no choice but to listen to the animated conversation since I was right there. Let’s see if I can remember how the conversation went, though I rarely remember any conversation verbatim.

“Did you see that one guy who was a Marine?” someone said.
“You mean the black dude that was in the Army?” someone else responded.
This next chic was 2 offices away listening in on the conversation and she bellowed:
‘You mean the Air Force, Jerry?!”
Jerry and the other guy glanced at each other, then in the general direction of the chic’s office, then back at each other again and shrugged.
“Yes, the Air Force,” Jerry said. “The one who stopped in the middle of a song, pulled out his sunglasses and said something to the effect of replay?”
“I think he said remix, Jerry!” the chic bellowed again. Jerry, visibly annoyed, didn’t say anything; he just grabbed his coffee and went back to his office.

I was laughing my ass off though! Y’all gotta admit that would be annoying as hell. Thing is, this happens all the time and the people doing it seem clueless about it!

Exhibit B:
I was driving home one evening not too long ago. It was one of those days when Old Man Winter takes a breather and it was unseasonably warm. I had the windows down and the music bumpin’ having a good old time when, inevitably, traffic lights turned red in front of me. I stopped and waited while nodding my head to the music when this old pick-up truck pulled up alongside me and this middle-aged Caucasian lady stuck her head out the window and yelled out at me.

“Hey, sir!”
I turned the music down and was like: “Huh?”
“I was watching how you were driving and you were switching lanes without regard of the safety of the other drivers,” she continued, yelling to be heard above the rumble-sputter of her old F150. “That’s how accidents happen. If you keep that up I will have to call the police on you!”
I looked at her, incredulous, wondering if I was hearing things. Did she just get in my grill about my driving, knowing especially that I’d been driving [rather] slowly that evening? Knowing that I never switch lanes without indicating? [This much is true] Knowing that I could contract a serious bout of road rage and pummel her into oblivion, for all she knew? I decided to be grown up about it though and smiled at her and was like:
“Oh, I’m sorry ma’am. I guess I was a little distracted; my mind was rather far away.”
That always gets them when you talk all polite and are grammatically correct.
She seemed at a loss for words coz I guess she had been hoping for a cuss-word battle. B*tch. Suddenly, the light turned green and I grinned at her, revved the lancer to 4500 rpm and released the clutch, damn near popping it. In those couple of seconds there was thick grey smoke everywhere. The spinning tires were screaming angrily, trying to grip the tarmac. The roar of the engine, accentuated by the exhaust and intake, further enhanced the burnout experience. Above all this I saw the startled, and disbelieving, look on the nosy b*tch’s face and I loved it.


Exhibit C:
I was in the zone at work some day last week, on the grind, when the receptionist roared through the intercom commanding me to help out some customer who was at the front desk. I grudgingly got up and tried to rub the weariness out my eyes as I walked up front. At the risk of seeming conceited, which I am not, the customer was an oldish man who had driven all the way from PG County, Maryland, and needed yours truly to work his magic on this project.

Anyhow, I collected all the paperwork and was about to go back to the office and get on it when he told me that he wouldn’t be at his office all week long and to call him on his cellie. I agreed and was about to leave again when he added that he couldn’t be at the office for long coz he’d just had surgery. That's how it started, this tale about his health woes.

Apparently he had been diagnosed with some malignant growth in his colon and they had to cut a nice, long piece off. How they went about it, he explained, was a little unorthodox coz they went through his rear orifice instead of incising his belly. [Trust me, his description was a lot more colorful. I’m only paraphrasing this, trying to make it family-friendly.] Apparently the none-too-smart surgeons slit his sphincter to gain access to the gory depths of wherever they needed to reach. The surgery was, according to the surgeons, a resounding success. There was the problem of the slit sphincter though [no kidding] and that’s what was buggin’ this poor man. Apparently he experienced excruciating pain – not surprisingly – whenever he tried to release the grease or drain the main vein, if you catch my drift. He even drove around sitting on some sort of hollowed-out-pillow contraption that relieved some of the pressure off the mutilated sphincter, he said.

As much as I sympathize with the dude, all that detail was totally unnecessary; though I felt so sorry for him coz I could only imagine the agony he must’ve been going through and my over-active imagination could, unfortunately, visualize his anatomy in explicit detail as he described the procedure in vivid detail, and I almost smiled while picturing him driving gingerly, wincing when he hit a bump, but I caught myself. [Guess, how’s that for a complex sentence, huh? ;) ]

Like Trey Songz says, I don’t wanna leave but I gotta go right now. By all means, feelanga free to share your TMI experiences here. Mi blog es su blog. [Spanish-speaking folk - is this even correct? Kinda like Mi casa es su casa, I hope?]


Msanii_XL said...

Exhibit C..is some serious shit, i'm practically in pain thinking of it...OUCH!

lol @ B, must have given her a goddamn heart attack

B.E.T. said...

I agree with u.I mean, that people give too much information;in actual fact, half of it isn't really necessary.Especially Exhibit C.....reading it just made me feel like I was in an anatomy class.As for Exhibit B....I can't believe that she had the guts to let you know how you should be driving.But I can imagine the look on her face when you drove off.Sweet!

Nice post!

Guessaurus said...

G checking in. I see we are making headway with the 'speaking proper' routine. I should hang out with you more :) I am so proud.

TMGI I call it - I tell you, if you work in an office where you are the only black person, you know everything about every aspect of every other person's life in your office. Or rather that was me speaking in the third person.

LOL @ Mr. Geriatric - although like you I did feel sorry for him, there is this thing about Americans that makes me go huh? - YOU have this thing of wanting to share your life histories with complete strangers just because they said hello... yes, I am generalising. I say, write a book about it, better still, start a blog. WE DID - Didnt we?

The one thing I love about living in England, no one gives a $hit - seriously. Our stiff upper lip and our general 'politeness' might fool you, but if you know it, you know that we could be listening to the weather forecast or the train being late as far as your sob story is concerned. Like they say where I live; Zip it. Can it. Bin it. Suck it up and move on.

Guessaurus said...

Found another one: Put a bag over it... LOL courtesy of Shameless - I know, I am shameless too. Will update you on more of those 'shut up' words as I come across/up with them.

>d® said...

>Msanii: Wsup musicman, yeah, I can only imagine what dude must feel when he's gotta go, if you know what I mean! I never heard of any other surgery going that 'route' before.

>B.E.T.: Wsup girl. True Story: CK & I went to a club one time and this dude we just met told us everything about himself, and I mean everything, in like 5 minutes. His names, where he works, his job title, what car he drives, his marital status... etc. It's not like we asked him anything; he was just spilling his guts! Wow.

>Guess: Hi G. I always be tryin' ta speak all proper, nah mean? :)
LOL @ "start a blog." Next time he comes in, picture me telling him something like:
"Mr. B., I don't mind at all listening to your health problems but I must admit it's a little disconcerting. Perhaps it's better to write it all down? There's this site where you can start your own free blog...."

Put a bag over it, eh? How about:
- shut your pie hole
- put a lid on it
or better yet, the good old-fashioned
- shut the f*ck up

Mockney (which means mock cockney.. as in Accent.. geddit? said...

Shut your cake hole
Wind your neck in (this always makes me laugh)
Do one - which means f* off (lol)
alternately - give you one, means shag you.. the English and their English eh?

LOL and your ay? is actually spelt Eh?... bet you spell it with a Cockney Accent...LMAO

I insist, we need to hang out more, so I can teach you ENGLISH..

acolyte said...

Seems I am not the only one bothered with this kinda thing with Americans.I know way too much about my boss and workmates lives!There is this chic who comes in to our office from next door to heat her tea and after the usual "hi!how are you" proceeds to yap away without letting me get a word in.So all I do is nod,smile,nod repeat.
There is this chic who the first time she called me proceeded to tell me all about her family,man issues,health and school problems.I was like "huh?" what are we goin to talk to when it comes to convo two?There is this organisation that I joined but quit coz the chic who ran the meetings cannot for the life of her get to the point she natters on and on.ARRRRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!
It seems that silence is painful for some jungus.As for you having to hear the health problems of the mzee pole sana.As for the old mama she had it coming.
To add to the phrases up there
Shut the hell up!
Your mouth needs a break!
Or what I do on my bad days is let you talk talk talk, then I look you in the eye with a dead pan expression for like 3 seconds without blinking then go back to what I was doing.
Damn Americans!!!!!

Brother Jero (BJ) said...

Man you do what you gotta do man. When you get back to normal will be right here holding it down..

Keep your day job baby...

mutumia said...

Exhibit C is evil, evil, evil. That's just wrong. Wrong I say, wrong!!! Mental Image be gone. Shindwe I say. Shindwe!!

>d® said...

>G.: Mock Cockney? Has a naughty ring to it!
Oh, wind your neck in already! [That IS funny] But seriously though, how about we trade ENGLISH quips for EBONICS, eh? Not that I'm an Ebonics authority but I get by.

Speaking of which, what does 'blimey' mean? I like the way it sounds, though it sounds like I'm saying 'Blow me' when I pronounce it! Shoot, I don't even know when to use it so G., please, help a brother out!

>Aco: Wsup man.
"...let you talk talk talk, then I look you in the eye with a dead pan expression for like 3 seconds without blinking then go back to what I was doing." LOL!
Gotta try that one sometime, faw shaw! When that stuff happens to me I mutter encouragements I don't really mean, like: "No Way" or "Really?" or 'Getouttahere" or "You're kidding." Maybe I shouldn't; that'd probably cut the conversations down considerably. I hope.

>d® said...

>BJ: Yeah, I gotta do what I gotta do man. Hopefully some of that extra money will trickle its way down the ranks to my already starved & anorexic paycheck. *crossing fingers*

>Mutumia: Wsup girl. Trust me, I did all I could to dissuade 'Mr. Geriatric' to shut his pie-hole and do one. [Guessaurus© 2006]

He felt the need to let it all out - no pun intended - and I humored him.
Maybe he'll sew it up next time, eh?
[I know, I'm terrible]

Farmgal said...

I can almost smellthe smoke from your tyres!
ai wewe you write mzuri sana.
Personally I hate details ...details that dont help the story or those that make the story gross.
Is that impatience or what?

Prousette said...

Some people just need to spill their guts. The fact that you were there is just coincidence AND you seemed interested.
Enyewe the surgery bit was a little too much unless you are in the same business and he needs a second opinion.

>d® said...

>Farmgal: Thanks. Funny how people love telling gross details, ay?
Like, I was watching Bobby Brown's show one time and he was telling a story of how Whitney was once having trouble taking a dookie and how he had to literally dig through her sphincter to 'loosen things up.'

>Prou: Yeah, I might have seemed too interested. I couldn't believe he was telling me all this stuff so it was kidogo funny to me. I was like dude, we're not even on a first name basis here!