Because I’m constantly looking for ways to entertain you (How about that episode title? One of the greatest lines in movie history if you ask me), the reader, I submit to you another example of karma kicking my ass for being an asshole for all those years: due to staff changes, my office now entirely consists of women. It’s the Barn Man and 5 chicks, ranging in age from 23 to 55. In the past month I think I’ve learned more about women than in my previous 23 years combined. I’ve come to one conclusion: they are bat shit insane. (If you thought I’m going on some Mel Gibson, “What Women Want” tangent, you are sorely mistaken and probably do not have the same expectations for this blog as I do.) What else have I learned (besides to never call myself Barn Man)?
They’re highly emotional. I feel like Omar Gooding in “Baby Boy”, saying that they’re too emotional (and if you’re thinking I reference Omar Gooding because he was also in Nickelodeon’s “Wild N Crazy Kids” you are correct. Not a moment goes by in that movie when I don’t want to ask, “What happened to Donny?”). But they are. I’ve had at least 3 women have flipped out and started crying in front of me. That’s an average of once every 5 weeks I have to deal with awkward shit. In fact, I just had to deal with someone losing her shit for 30 minutes in the office, then calling me to talk for 15 minutes after she left. What is that shit? Why me? I’m the most unemotional person I can think of. In fact, I told her after she finished her first episode, “This isn’t like spreadsheets. They have real answers. I don’t know what to tell you.” I’m pretty sure if the person you’re trying to get emotional with is referencing Excel, they’re not the person you should be spilling your guts to. I mean, I comfort myself by drinking bourbon, and suppressing the emotion. I suggest you do the same. Or find someone better to talk to.
I’ve also learned that apparently, I’m a dreamboat for women 35 and older. Here are a few of the things I’ve been told lately. Not that I believe them. “You’re going to make someone a great husband one day.” (Yes, I’m sure someone is looking forward to seeing me leave the house at 5 am and not return until 8 pm. Then upon returning home I will drink as much Jack as possible before passing out. I’m sure this is every woman’s dream, right? Because if it is, I’ve been squandering more potential than JR Rider.)
“You spoil me. You treat me too well.” (No, I do your job for you because you’re lazy and incompetent. You’d eventually pass this work on to me, but I saw this coming and headed it off before you could dump it on me at 3:30 on a Friday afternoon).
The kicker is what my manager told me: “If I was 15 years younger, we should be dating…well that and if I wasn’t married.” Wait, wait, wait, hold up right there. Age and marriage are the kickers in our potential relationship? Not the fact that you weigh 100 pounds more than me and I’m not even in shape? I’m glad you just assumed that I would let that slide (I know I went to a tech school, so my standards have been distorted somewhat. But not that much. Thank God for Biz Tech sometimes).
Anyway, because I haven’t had a good drinking story in awhile for you guys, I will continue to tell you this story. To make matters worse, my coworkers think that my manager (we’ll call her the Manatee) is secretly in love with me. They have good evidence of this (I think she said that she “loved” me once in a business sense, but I ignore half of the things she says so I might have missed what was actually said. I usually start picturing monkeys dancing after 45 seconds of her talking non-stop). Plus she comes over to my desk and stands in weird, potentially suggestive positions. I’m in complete denial. And there will be no relationship. Not because she’s obese, or married, or older. It’s because she’s completely inept at her job and that would piss me off more than anything.
So that got me thinking (I have to conserve this skill. My brain only continues to function for a few minutes a day. It’s like it only works via solar power. God that was an awful metaphor. Sorry, couldn’t think of anything else.). What does this relationship remind me of? I could only come to one conclusion: She’s Isiah and I’m Anucha Brown-Sanders (alright, maybe I could have thought a little bit more about this, but if I can compare someone to the worst GM in the history of sports, I’m going to do it 9 times out of 10.). Let’s go through the similarities:Creating a Hostile Workplace: Isiah calls people a “bitch” and does not “give a fuck about white people.” Manatee tells embarrassing stories about her family and has the social graces of a leper. Manatee has also called a female coworker a “bitch”. But this was allowed under Isiah’s rules because it wasn’t a white male using this term to describe a black female. Thanks Isiah.
Sexual Harassment: Isiah compares relationships to “Love and Basketball.” She says that we should be dating, asks me about my views on adultery, and calls me her “work husband.” I’d actually rather have the “Love and Basketball” metaphor because then I could say, “If that’s the case, then this isn’t going to work. I can’t take that movie seriously because the chick in that movie pulls up from 3 on a breakaway.” (I’ve actually used a variation of this before. It got me out of the movie, but getting some was out of the question that night. This girl also had to deal with me stopping in the middle of sex to watch replay after replay of McGrady throwing it off the backboard to himself in the middle of the 2002 all star game. I wonder why this relationship didn’t work out?)
Complete Incompetence in Their Jobs: Isiah’s actions have been well documented in my blog. The Manatee does absolutely nothing all day except yell at her delinquent kids and shop on eBay, yet she takes all the credit. Like I mentioned before, this is the part that would keep this from working. I couldn’t deal with her asking me how to run a report from a system she freakin’ designed.
So when I do quit, maybe I could get a sexual harassment case going. I do have that going for me (ummm….maybe I should reevaluate my life if a sexual harassment case is a positive).
What else have I learned about women?
They really like to cook. I’ve heard more debates regarding the best way to cook stuff than I care to know. I’ve heard simple recipes that you can do in 15 minutes. And I continue to enjoy my skillet sensations every night. If you really wanted to impress me, you’d give me a recipe for another liquor I could mix with Henn Rock that would taste as good as an Incredible Hulk
They know how to hate. I thought I could hate. I mean, I’ve said everything about JJ Reddick in the book, but I’ve never wished death on him. These women, they’ve not only wished death on coworkers, but painful deaths at that. I actually want to keep people around that I don’t like for comedy purposes.
They have no taste in movies. I had two of them tell me, being completely honest, that “Troy” was a better movie than “Gladiator.” Umm…I didn’t even need to see Troy to know it sucked. They also failed to see the brilliance in Gladiator. They were apparently not swayed by my argument that it won the Best Picture award that year. They just wanted to see guys with their shirts off. And they say that men are superficial.
Anyway, I think I’m bitching too much. This whole emotional thing might be rubbing off on me. I’ll just go back to my normal method of venting by drinking lots of Jack and passing out instead of blogging anonymously on the internet. Sorry for wasting 5 minutes of your life. I’m realizing now this episode sucks, but I’ll post it because I don’t have any other ideas for the foreseeable future.
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