Things that gross me out: office edition

So by now you know that there are lots of things that I despise and some that even sicken me.  This compendium, of course, includes worms on the sidewalk *shudder* and since my office building is surrounded by sidewalks, my short trek into work often grosses me out.

But let’s take it a step further and go INTO the building.

I know, I know, you’re thinking “Come on, you work in an OFFICE.  How gross can things actually get?”

1. Fluids on file folders.  (alliteration FTW)  Oh yes, when working with file folders all day for TONS of patients (I don’t work in a doctor’s office, JSYK) things can get sticky. Literally.  Some of the grossest office moments come when I’m innocently perusing a file, updating some important document and I see stains.  Often brown, of uncertain origin, but possibly biological (I’m pretty sure I saw an actual booger the other day). Or chocolate.  Either way, keep runny things away from paper!

2. Cubeland nose-blowers.  Oh, yes.  You’d think someone would have the presence of mind to excuse themselves if they need to expel some mucus, but noooooooooooo.  Maybe I’m silly for being bothered by this, but gurgly snot sounds do NOT a pleasant working environment make.  Also of note: do these people not worry about a stray string of snot dangling out there? Go to the bathroom!

3. Speaking of that inner sanctum, let’s talk toilets. More specifically what some of my coworkers often DON’T do after visiting the toilet: WASH THEIR HANDS.  I don’t know how many times I’ve been innocently tinkling, only to hear someone else’s toilet flush, stall door open and then…… nothing.  They walk out of the bathroom without even rinsing!  I’ve nailed down at least two culprits, one of whom is this prissy woman who walks around talking very “essy” (I guess she thinks it makes her sound cultured?) and looking down her nose at people.  Oh, I’m onto you, prisspot.  Those hands are covered in remnants of urine and fecal matter.  That sign I posted on the bathroom door that says “Please wash your hands!” with a sign of germy palms? Totally directed at you. By the way, don’t touch the copier.

4. Also bathroom related and so gross it’s unbelievable: spying blood on various surfaces.  Oh yes, a travesty of this caliber occurred just this week, this time on the toilet roll itself,  and I was appalled.  Ladies, most of us have been dealing with “bloody issues” since we were about 12, so it’s time we got a handle on proper disposal, k?  If you can’t keep it off the floor and the wall (!!), then perhaps you should go back to 4th grade health class.

No wonder I’m always catching something.

things that bother me, list 3

- when I introduce myself to someone, very clearly pronouncing my name  and they reply, “Nice to meet you, [some other wrong pronunciation of my name].”

- the fact that someone in my company had to have a chart similar to this:

- the fact that the above mentioned dumbass took the chart down after being ridiculed by others in her office. i had to create the above pictured diagram in lieu of an actual photo.

- this whole  “being nervous around people” thing i’ve got going on lately. there can be people i’ve known for YEARS and i still get nervous when i see them. what the hell is that?

- stemming from the nervousness, always thinking people won’t remember me.  i don’t see someone for a while, then see them somewhere random, think they don’t remember me, so i don’t speak. then who looks like the asshole? this cracker right here.

- people who don’t reply to text messages. seriously, just common courtesy of saying “i don’t feel like eating dinner out tonight/with you/ever again” will suffice. most of us aren’t comprised entirely of baby girls; we can take it. 

- clicky shoes that women wear in the office. you may remember me mentioning this previously, but this time it’s almost worse because the lady who sits behind me wears them every. single. day. she also doesn’t celebrate birthdays which is weird to me, and i’m still unclear on the “bless you” thing if she sneezes.

Things adults should never say = things I have heard adults say

“Let’s see if there’s a Bucky’s around.  I could go for a latte.” – A grown man  Any person alive should not refer to Starbucks as “Bucky’s.” Ever.

“Dere’s go.” – A former coworker would say this CONSTANTLY instead of “There we go”.  Someone has spent a little too much time around her grandkids.

“my ‘rents” – Are you seriously too lazy to fully say the word “parents”? Plus, ” ‘rents ” just sounds stupid.

“cool beans” - I’m sorry, I just have a personal hatred for anyone who uses this term.  Where are these beans and why are they so cool?

“chillax” - Are you on your way to the frat house to “bro down” with your homeboys before the kegger tonight?

“liberry”, “valentime’s day”, or “birfday” - if you are over the age of five, you should probably have your dental fricatives down pat.  I’m looking at YOU, ex-bosslady.

Anything that is said in a baby-voice or a squeal – there is a FORTY YEAR OLD woman in my office who speaks this way on a daily basis. It makes me want to rip my eardrums to shreds with my scissors.

Bluh.

Huh?

Okay, seriously.

I’m afraid to look [and can't, because I'm at work] but WHAT, pray tell, is the new internet phenomenon of 2 Girls 1 Cracker?

I’m asking because about four hundred people [slight exaggeration] have googled that term and landed here.

I’m also curious about “could an entity smell like stinking feet,” “cool to read on the crapper,” and, especially, “2007 halloween costumes ‘ampersand’”.

That last one gets an especially because, as you may know, the ampersand is my favorite typographical character, and halloween is my favorite holiday.

bingo! greatest halloween costume idea EVER.

Dead girl walking.

I am running on <4 hours of sleep.

I have puffy-eye and my coworkers have been saying “you look exhausted” or “you look like you’re in a bad mood.”

yes for the first, no for the second.

although i WAS in a semi-bad mood when i got a ranting comment on my “smiling sex offenders” entry

then i did some research and found out that the commenter well, you know.

if you don’t like this blog, don’t read it.

or, don’t fuck 14 year olds.

your choice.

Who are you perverts???

Ok. Like many bloggers, I am slightly obsessive when it comes to finding out how people are directed to my database of drivel.

Here are two samples of some recent google searches that have directed folks here:

* i assume that the part you can’t see says “during sex”. as i got a tattoo recently, the artist regaled us with his story of the first time he had sex with his current girlfriend: total squat fart.

as you can see, someone googled “bikinis” and found their way here. fairly benign search term, no? i assume they landed on the photo of my sister and myself wearing our green bikinis and our dad’s workboots/workshoes when we were little.

what is NOT fairly benign, however, is past searches for “little kids in bikinis” that i’ve seen before.

i do not want some pedophile getting his rocks off looking at a photo of me from when i was 2.

with a passy.

and who, pray tell, is karrie kendrick? a porn star, i presume? LK, maybe a relative of yours?

a tip for whoever was caught jilling their boss: either you don’t know what jilling means, or your boss is seriously getting the raw end of the deal.

again, why is someone googling “kids in bikinis”? PEDOPHILE!

and, i had no idea that herman munster ever dressed as a woman. of course, i was never that into the munsters, so i guess it could’ve been part of some crazy plotline.

or not.

and, of course the biggest pervert population of them all [according to the above exact scientific evidence]: people searching for poop/vomit and genital-related videos.

Two Girls, No Vomit

 …but almost. 

*A couple of weeks ago, I was at my friend Cool Amanda’s house and, since we had discussed it at work a few times, made her find “2 Girls, 1 Cup” for me.

I’d watched a few videos of reactions to “2 Girls 1 Cup” and HAD to see it for myself.

Amanda told me she’d find it for me and I could watch it, but she just couldn’t.  “If you make it past 15 seconds, you’ve beaten everyone we know,” she told me. 

I made it about 40 seconds in, then experienced something I NEVER experience: spontaneous nausea.

I never get grossed out. I mean, NEVER.  Worms on the sidewalk are gross [see http://thefreshcracker.wordpress.com/2007/07/25/things-that-bother-me-v20/ and others] yes, but I don’t have actual rising gorge when I encounter them.

“2 Girls, 1 Cup”: a whole different matter.

What the hell do these people eat that makes them shit like that? A steady diet of indigestible marshmallow fluff? Geez!

Amanda says my face was red the whole time and my reaction was priceless.  I may wait a while, watch it again, and have someone video me.

After I’d calmed down a bit and decided I wasn’t going to puke all over my friend’s living room, we decided to take it to the next step: “4 Girls Fingerpainting”.

How the hell did these girls control their gag reflexes? I mean, they even had to use the fingers down the throat method just to vomit [it was all part of the shtick.]  Plus, the room they were in looked highly suspiciously like a child’s room/nursery.

SICK.

* WARNING: if you have been living under a rock for the past few months [like me] and don’t know what “2 Girls, 1 Cup” is, or what ”4 Girls Fingerpainting” is, you should probably know that it is HIGHLY NSFW.  OR NOT SAFE FOR LIFE, even.

Another year, another list of whatever

Top search engine subject that directs people to this blog:

ZELDA (and derivatives: Zelda Goldman, Zelda Pet Sematary, Zelda Pet Cemetery, etc. You get the idea.)  Apparently, I am far from being the only person who has had the living piss scared out of them by her. Thanks to self-induced immersion therapy, I can now write about her and have google tell people to come read the stupid shit I write. Thank you, Stephen King.

Top instrumental song that I could listen to on repeat for hours:

“The Music Box” by Unwed Sailor.

Running a close second:

“I Can’t Remember” by Mogwai

Total hours spent in unofficial “tech support” mode for family, friends and coworkers in the past two weeks:

Roughly twelve. Mom was right: I really should’ve gone to school for computer stuff (JSYK, that was the technical term).

Number of people I regret doing the “auto-smile” thing at when rounding a corner at work:

One. Just one. And you know her as BTSG. I REALLY wish I could put auto-smile in check once in a while. Or at least that I could’ve ripped a fart (I’ve been gassy lately) in her direction to make up for accidentally being nice to her.

Top hilarious website of the past 24 hours:

The Bible, as translated into LOLCat. I can has light?

Number of times someone told me they loved me on New Year’s Eve:

About fourteen. I also got about six cheek-kisses, one check-zoober, and seven arm-holds.

Top underrated and under-listened-to band of the last five years:

The Electric Soft Parade. This may be due to the following facts: they are from the UK, they haven’t ever toured in the States (I think), and a lot of us Americans have shitty taste in music.

Most-consumed (by me) potato chips of 2007 (and I am not a big potato chips fan):

These things are fucking GOOD. And my left thumb is fucking stubby. JSYK, that is the tip of my mp3 player on the desk, not a pink vibrator.

Celebrity crush that I am most embarrassed about, even though my friend Cool Amanda agrees with me:

John Cena, pro wrestler.

Celebrity crush that I’m not horribly embarrassed about:

Zachary Quinto

Worst surnames we’ve come across at nightwork:

Baskatawang and Soberanis.

I would tell you the worst FULL names, but I think that might not being staying on TASC [thorough, accurate, secure, cautious].

Worst perfume/fragrance I have EVER smelled:

Demeter’s Bonfire

Normally, I LOVE the smell of burning wood, real fireplaces, etc, but my friend Katie and I were messing around in a store and we sprayed some of this on my wrist.  Two hours later, I still had a headache and felt nauseous from the smell.

It does NOT smell like a real bonfire, y’all.

Probability that I will come up with a similar list in the near future:

HIGHLY LIKELY

oh p.s.

since i’m a financial disaster and haven’t yet put up the money to get internet back at home, i check my email on my cell phone on weekends.

i got a comment screening email, so i checked it.

the content of the comment said “very interesting, but i don’t agree with you. -idetroce”

at first, i thought that BTSG had somehow discovered my blog and was onto me [ohh noeeez!] since it was on an entry about her.

i went back and checked the whois for the IP source and it was Amsterdam.

turns out, this Idetroce is a huge spam thing that’s been going around lately.

i’m sure BTSG is as clueless as ever.

OH and i didn’t tell you all one extremely hilarious thing that happened involving BTSG, V and S.

First, go back and read this

Now, one afternoon, V and S were trying to avoid having their pictures taken for the company directory, so they went to the bathroom to hide out from the male photographer.

While they were looking at themselves in the mirror and chatting, V said, “Haha, we could stay in here a long time; all we need to do is bring a book in like BTSG does.”

S didn’t hear her, so she said it again, a little louder.

And the two of them immediately heard a voice from one of the stalls say, “Thanks a lot guys.”

BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I didn’t tell you how I almost died again.

Ok, kinda almost died.

Ok, had a scare that I might have a life-threatening blood clot in my lung.

Maybe.

I’d been having weird breathing issues for about two weeks.  I don’t have asthma, but my dad and sister do.  My mom has had pneumonia like eight times and we both get bronchitis really easily, so I figured at WORST it’d be walking pneumonia.

Boy, was I in for it.

I got to my doctor’s office and he listened to my chest.  It sounded clear, but he decided to take my oxygen level.

It was 94%.

NINETY-FOUR  OUT OF ONE-HUNDRED.

If I were taking a calculus test, I’d be thrilled at a 94, but when your level is supposed to be around 98% and it’s OXYGEN we’re talking about, it’s not so great.

So, my doctor orders a chest x-ray. STAT, even.

It came out clear.  No pneumonia or anything.

He then says to me,  “I want to order a CAT scan for you.  There’s a chance you could have a blood clot in your lung.  If there IS one,  you’ll have to be admitted to the hospital for two days to go on blood thinners.”

Cue my bowels feeling liquidy and me internally yelling, “Ah shit, man! Shit! Shit! Shit!”

Doc W then went on to say that he was just being cautious and nervous and that I “had everything on the good side” meaning I’m under 35, I don’t smoke, etc.

So I got scheduled for a CAT scan at 2pm across town.  I figured I’d go home, get my cell phone, pack a just-in-case bag, and then go back to the office for a bit.

As soon as I walked in my apartment, my cell phone rang: “The Fresh Cracker, this is JP from name of my doctor’s office.  You need to go to name of  hospital across town right now  and they can work you in for your CAT scan.”

That is when this cracker got a little nervous. I mean, everything was “STAT” and “ASAP” so I was like “WTF” and “OMG”.

So I go to the hospital across town and register for my CAT scan.  And they put a hospital bracelet on me.

…

I go to the waiting room where I sit for about seven minutes before a super nice chick comes to get me.

She explains everything [including the fact that I must remove my necklace and underwire bra] and I hop on the table.

She then explains that I will be given an IV of iodine for tracking and it will make me have an odd taste in the back of my mouth and feel like I’m wetting myself.

Yeah, right. I figured it was one of those “Warning: contents under pressure.  Cap may blow off causing eye damage” type things. Possible, but unlikely to happen.

Boy, am I glad she warned me.

After she sent the iodine through my IV, I immediately got a nasty taste in my mouth. And felt like I was whizzing all over myself.

Seriously, had I not been warned, I would’ve been all “Um, nurse? I…. I had an accident.”

So, it was all over with, and nice radiologist lady and I were laughing about the pee-feeling. 

I went and sat back in the waiting room for a bit, then they called my name, handed me my films, and told me to go back and see my PCP. [No, not THAT kind of PCP]

I get to Dr. W’s office and check BACK in, handing them my films.

Then I wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

A nurse type lady comes out, calls my name, then says, “Miss Cracker.  I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long.  Dr. W is figuring out what he wants to do and we’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

Right then, I get sweaty palm [jsyk, my palms smell like potatoes when I sweat. dunno why] and start thinking “Shit! I can’t go into the hospital! They charge like five bucks for a BAND AID there and yeah, sure, insurance covers 80% but that means I have to pay 20% and since my office is at the hospital, I know what kind of shitbag hospital it really is and I know of people who’ve gotten CRAP care there.”

and other kinds of “Oh NOEEEEZ!” thoughts.

So I finally get called back and they put me in a room.

Dr. W comes in just a few minutes later and says…

“Your films are clear”

Good gah, I swear I almost lost control of my bowels at that point.

The good doctor goes on to tell me that I apparently had bronchitis with an asthmatic reaction.

Oh. So that’s why I’d been wheezing and struggling for breath.

So he put me on an inhaler and told me to call/come right in if the breathing problems continued.

He even had his office call me the next day to see if I was alright.

Whew!

Since then, I’ve had to use the old lung-sucker a few times. I would say that this sucks, but that would be too obvious.