Wednesday, December 06, 2006
11:14 a.m.
This blog is dedicated to Melanie (aka sporkgasm), who expressed a strong dislike for a coworker’s obnoxious singing and chewing. In addition to my loud conversation-intruding, dumb-question-asking cube neighbor, I also have one that whistles. A lot. I’ve run out of questions to ask as distraction measures, and I can only turn my ipod up so much without creating a whole new problem for the office. I love most of my coworkers, including this one. Not so much the conversation-intruding, dumb-question-asking one, in fact today I heard her say, “I feel like I have bad breath.” Like a warning beacon in the ocean, I know to stay away. That’s almost like saying, “Goddamn, my cooch is rank today. Have I been fucking a cadaverous and rotting penis I found in the dumpster again?” Anyway, the whistler doesn’t just whistle. The whistler whistles as if there was a whistling tournament, like an American Idol contestant. For example, it is conceivable for the whistler to whistle something like “With or Without You” by U2. Not a bad song. But when you whistle it, I want to puncture my ear drum with a rusty fork. “Patience” by Guns N’ Roses: That’s ok to whistle. “One in a Million” by Guns N’ Roses: Also ok to whistle. Why? Because there’s already goddam whistling in the song! But this incessant, unsolicited, and OSTENTATIOUS whistling takes the spring right out of my step and sticks it up my ass. So please, my friends. If you have the urge to whistle, whistle like a normal damn person and don’t get all Christina Aguilera on that shit because no one wants to fucking hear it!

p.s. My ipod just shuffled to “Jailhouse” by Sublime. Apropos, no?