Office Chat 4-12-12

So far this morning, my office has discussed music with loud bass, jello shots and Lyme disease. The Lyme disease conversation involved lots of talk about ticks; everyone share your favorite tick experience. Now I feel like I’m covered in tiny, Lyme-disease-ridden ticks and I want a drink. OFFICE CHATTED! 

I just got an e-mail from my roommate. Her co-worker just informed the office that he has been washing his hair with Listerine.

awkwardsyntax:

I hate this town.

To be fair, he WAS out of dish soap.

Nudity, Arithmetic & Anxiety

I have less hesitation about stripping down naked in front of a person than I do about public math. Please have mercy and let me privately scribble numbers on scraps of paper. I will come to the correct conclusion in my own illogical way. Don’t make eye contact.

Tea Party

That awkward moment when your 64-year-old co-worker tells the office he’s sure he doesn’t have AIDS because he hasn’t had sex in 20 years.

He spits crumbs when he speaks, even if he’s not eating.

t-shirt

My work parents (a group of four baby boomers I interact with in an office) and I were asked by our boss to select t-shirt sizes for free t-shirts we’re getting (!!!). This seemed like an easy task, all that was needed was a simple check mark indicating the correct size.

They made it not simple.

First there were the questions.

“What’s this for? What is it made of? Is it a v neck? Is it cotton? What’s the percentage of cotton? Is there polyester in it? What if it’s a crew neck? Is there a sample? Can we try it on?” A voicemail was left for Debby, the woman in charge of t-shirts.

But the answers were even worse.

“It’s a t-shirt, we’re getting a t-shirt, t-shirt, a t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, Kate did you select your t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt.  90% COTTON 10% POLYESTER t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, I’m getting XL so I can wear it as a night shirt,  t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt, t-shirt.”

Granted, this is only my interpretation of how the conversation sounded in my ears, but oy. I love my work parents, they bought me flannel sheets, but sometimes they’re so middle aged. Other times, they’re racist.

Also they all have colds that I’m trying to avoid, so I’ve been slathering myself in Purell sanitizer foam, on the hour every hour.

t-shirt