Spiderman Part 1.
I have yet to decide if Thug Colleague is a dark evil comic genius or just a common-or-garden buffoon.
I despise him. His level of intelligence and humour is that of an ant.
And yet.
He has spun some kind of web around me. I am becoming like him. Slowly.
The more he inhabits my life, the more it is only some time until I become interested in football and mobile phones and internet sites dedicated to Holly Willoughby…
Whatever. I'm currently at one out of three. Which means I am sane.
But he nearly got me.
Two weeks ago. I am At Work.
I have just had an excellent argument with my boss.
She had informed me that I had to spend the entire morning being trained on how to do my job. I explained that I had being doing my job, in one form or another, quite successfully for eight years and would much rather just get on with it thanks. She shrugged and wandered off, leaving me to do Actual Work. Great!
Thug Colleague: Alreeet Tired like.
It seems my happiness is to be short-lived.
Me: Jesus. Fuck off.
TG: Aye. How. Have ye ever been on the bog havin a shit like and got a bonk-on?
Me: Seriously. I’ve got a client who reckons we owe him his entire annual spend because, well, because he feels like it and I’ve got a publication deadline NOW which I know you do not share and a new boss who isn’t sure what I do for a living and I’m not sure how to explain it to her. And you want to know if I’ve ever had a simultaneous erection and bowel movement?
TG: Aye.
Right. He’s really committed to the whole ‘eroticism of taking a dump’ thing then.
Who cares about my work troubles.
To get rid of him, the following dreadful exchange takes place:
Me: Right. Once. It was taking ages and my mind began to wander. Ok?
TG [Visibly delighted] : Ah I KNEW IT! YE AND ME ARE THE SAME TIRED! Even if you’re auld.
I’m not at all old. I don’t feel old (I do) and I will not let this whipper-snapper feel that I have suffered a mere erection on a toilet. Although we are definitely NOT THE SAME.
Me: [Bizarrely wanting to get the upper-hand in the whole shit/erection debate] Yeah? So tell me, have you ever become TRAPPED?
He looks at me in awe, and I know that I am lost.
Me: Oh yes. It got wedged under the seat. I couldn’t stand up for fear of it snapping off. I had to wait until it went away. It took fucking ages.
People are now looking at me.
Christ. What have I become?
TG: [Almost vibrating with delight] I bet you’ve given a lass a spiderman an’all!?
For reasons I cannot begin to explain I want to beat this thug, to outstrip his every monkeyface/dangerwank/shittybonkon story with one better just to prove to him that – what?
To be honest I don’t know.
And I’d no idea what a spiderman was. But by God I found out.
To be continued.
I despise him. His level of intelligence and humour is that of an ant.
And yet.
He has spun some kind of web around me. I am becoming like him. Slowly.
The more he inhabits my life, the more it is only some time until I become interested in football and mobile phones and internet sites dedicated to Holly Willoughby…
Whatever. I'm currently at one out of three. Which means I am sane.
But he nearly got me.
Two weeks ago. I am At Work.
I have just had an excellent argument with my boss.
She had informed me that I had to spend the entire morning being trained on how to do my job. I explained that I had being doing my job, in one form or another, quite successfully for eight years and would much rather just get on with it thanks. She shrugged and wandered off, leaving me to do Actual Work. Great!
Thug Colleague: Alreeet Tired like.
It seems my happiness is to be short-lived.
Me: Jesus. Fuck off.
TG: Aye. How. Have ye ever been on the bog havin a shit like and got a bonk-on?
Me: Seriously. I’ve got a client who reckons we owe him his entire annual spend because, well, because he feels like it and I’ve got a publication deadline NOW which I know you do not share and a new boss who isn’t sure what I do for a living and I’m not sure how to explain it to her. And you want to know if I’ve ever had a simultaneous erection and bowel movement?
TG: Aye.
Right. He’s really committed to the whole ‘eroticism of taking a dump’ thing then.
Who cares about my work troubles.
To get rid of him, the following dreadful exchange takes place:
Me: Right. Once. It was taking ages and my mind began to wander. Ok?
TG [Visibly delighted] : Ah I KNEW IT! YE AND ME ARE THE SAME TIRED! Even if you’re auld.
I’m not at all old. I don’t feel old (I do) and I will not let this whipper-snapper feel that I have suffered a mere erection on a toilet. Although we are definitely NOT THE SAME.
Me: [Bizarrely wanting to get the upper-hand in the whole shit/erection debate] Yeah? So tell me, have you ever become TRAPPED?
He looks at me in awe, and I know that I am lost.
Me: Oh yes. It got wedged under the seat. I couldn’t stand up for fear of it snapping off. I had to wait until it went away. It took fucking ages.
People are now looking at me.
Christ. What have I become?
TG: [Almost vibrating with delight] I bet you’ve given a lass a spiderman an’all!?
For reasons I cannot begin to explain I want to beat this thug, to outstrip his every monkeyface/dangerwank/shittybonkon story with one better just to prove to him that – what?
To be honest I don’t know.
And I’d no idea what a spiderman was. But by God I found out.
To be continued.
posted by Tired Dad at
9:49 pm
26 Comments:
It can't be worse than monkeyface, can it?
Can it?!
I'll have a bucket handy, thanks for the warning.
It may be, dependant upon your point of view. Sorry.
I am genuinely nervous about Part 2.
Monkeyface... Spiderman... now I understand what's meant by 'lifelong learning'.
And, er, trapped - not good, not good at all.
I'm not sure it's *that* bad. But the fact that I need a little rest before I can bring myself to write about it is not the best sign.
What is up with the clock on blogger?
Last reply was to Missy.
Shane: It gets so much worse.
when is this post continued?
And what IS a spiderman?
Debster
Sounds like a web of your own making - heh heh. No doubt part 2 will be... sticky?
Good God...you boys and your fascination with your shits and your willies. A certain male acquaintance of mine recently took a cell pic of one of his BMs (in the bowl) and sent it to his brother, who then phoned him up to congratulate him on his accomplishment. They then went on to discuss the (theoretical, IMHO) concept of a blumpkin...which is probably not unlike your spiderman thingy. Anyways, like your story, I don't know whether to laugh or cry...
Dangerwanks, monkey faces, Erectopoo's....
Sounds like you should turn this guy in for sexual harassment, TD.
"Alreeet Tired like.."
i can hear that in my head. Perfect.
Is it terrible that i know what is coming ...?
What, you've given Holly Willoughby a spiderman? You spawny get!
I couldn't help it, I looked on Urban Dictionary, and was a little bit sick into my mouth.
There's a lot to be said for lesbianism, I reckon.
Interestingly, my husband does not wholly disagree. Funny that.
Having googled 'a spiderman' I am none the wiser.
If you have dressed in tight spandex with a spider on the front and engaged in some perversity pictorial evidence will gain you copious amounts of extra readers.
I would like a prior warning however in case I have just eaten my dinner.
Can't you just hit him in private?
I hope, I hope you didn't have to ask him.
so..
already hit the middle aged thing huh ?
gonna start wearing your pants all baggy and thuggish?
lord..
I so need photos of this
New to your blog. V funny. Please, put me out of my misery......a spiderman?
(In my house its just another plastic piece of shit you stand on and then screm inpain)
Scream even. D'oh
oooo..
Just googled spiderman sex..
Please god tell me thats not it
Yeah well, I'm not looking it up. I'm making you type it up. lol
Not as if I need to know but at this point, what the hell.
For this sort of thing, try www.urbandictionary.com. You'll find definitions of things you never wanted to know...
Good god. The trapped-under-the-seat thing made me wince.
Mainly because it's happened to me too.
Euw. Cock yoghurt thrower....
c'mon dude ..get skippy with the rest of the story
A: Now. Sorry. Getting on with what I tragically refer to as my life.
Debs: Sadly, now you know.
Ang: Be ashamed for even knowing about this.
K: Cry. Really.
Sew: I think I could get him sectioned on the evidence I'm mounting up.
Me: Yes. It is.
Farty: Thanks, if only because that's the first time someone's called me a 'spawny get' in twenty years.
H: Not that funny.
Dinners: Amazingly, he is not the most tiresome person I work with. Don't get me started on John the Stink.
Jane: Sorry. Did.
C: I've succumbed to purchasing a pair of unbecoming trainers but that is as far as it goes. They're surprisingly comfy though.
Echo: I know, it's all been blown long before now. *SIGH* Bloody internet.
K: ALRIGHT.
M_G: You're not the only one. (Did anyone see what I did there?)
Anon: OK then.
C: ALRIIIGHT.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home