Join Overshare and her cast of crazy characters as she tells all, bares all...
Friday, April 28, 2006
The Bathroom
I know that a lot of you saw the title and said "Oh, uh-uh."
You're not sure you want to read this, are you? Well, at least you have the choice.
I'm sure it happens to everyone eventually-- the awkward same-time arrival at the door of the office bathroom. In our office, the bathroom is in such a place that you can't pretend you were going elsewhere; it's all by its lonesome down a long hallway. If you meet someone at the door, you both know why you're there.
Yesterday, I met Overshare there. I seriously contemplated saying something along the lines of, "You know what? The urge is gone. Just gone! Funny how that happens... see you later."
But I had just finished my third water bottle of the day. There was no choice. Oh dear.
So we have the obligatory, awkward, "After you; No, after you" moment, which finally ended up with me following her in. Like a lamb to the slaughter, folks.
Overshare, from inside her stall: Anonymous? Anonymous, whispering to herself: This can't be happening. Anonymous, to Overshare: Uhh... yes? Overshare: Ummmm... can I ask you a personal question? Anonymous: Now? Overshare: Yeah. Anonymous: [Silence.] Overshare: Does...uh....well...
Now see, I've noticed something about ol' Overshare. She, in general, has next to no shame. And no mental filter. No shame + no mental filter = No hesitation. So when Overshare does hesitate to say something? It's never good. Whatever she's about to say, she knows it might be crossing the line, which means it's actually about five miles past the line. Fantastic.
Anonymous, to herself: Oh dear God. Overshare: The day after you have sex, does the consistency of your poop change? Anonymous: [Silence.] Overshare: [Silence.] Anonymous: [Flush.] Overshare: [Silence. Flush.] Anonymous: [Washes hands in silence.] Overshare: [Washes hands. Looks over at me.] Anonymous: [Dries hands in silence.] Overshare: Uh..... Anonymous: [Shakes head.] Overshare, sheepishly: Sorry?
Some of my favorite Overshare moments are sneak attacks. Sometimes you hear her coming down the hall and have a moment to prepare yourself (or develop a “sudden urge” to go to the bathroom.) But those times when she just whips into your office without warning? Priceless.
Overshare: Save the date. Anonymous: Huh? Overshare: Save. The Date. Anonymous: What date? Overshare: My birthday. Anonymous: Oh. When is that again? Overshare: One month from today. Anonymous: Right. What are you planning? Overshare: A party, duh. Anonymous, irritated at the “duh”: Hmph. Overshare: Hey, give me your opinion. Anonymous: On? Overshare: On what kind of party I should have, duuuhhhh. Anonymous: [grits teeth] Overshare: So far, the options are a toga party, a Dukes of Hazzard theme, pirates, or… something better. Anonymous: Something better? Overshare, pensively: Yeah… I just can’t help but feel like there’s a really awesome theme that I’m just not thinking of. Anonymous: Of course.
[Silence. Complete silence for about five minutes. It was painfully awkward… I couldn’t really start working, because she was kind of looking at me, but not. She didn’t leave, and she didn’t really say anything else, until…]
Overshare: Mmmmm… CTF in a hula skirt.
My mind’s eye sure gets a lot of abuse at the hands of this girl.
I'd just like to point out to everyone, in case you haven't noticed, that Overshare is very rarely actually interested in how my weekend went. Asking about my weekend is only her way of getting me to ask about her weekend. And if I ask, she can't very well refuse to tell me, can she? Tricky, very tricky. I don't want to know these things. I'm perfectly content with never knowing any details of her weekend adventures (though this blog would be rather boring indeed) but office environments being what they are these conversations are unavoidable.
Anonymous: Fine. You? Overshare: CTF and I went to the beach. Anonymous: Fascinating. Overshare: Well, you see, my sister and her husband wanted me to come up to the beach house while they were there, to spend some time with them. Anonymous: That's nice. Overshare: They asked me not to bring CTF. Anonymous: So why did you? Overshare: Because! Like I really want to feel like the third wheel to my sister. She'd just lord it over me that she was having sex that weekend and I wasn't. She'd be really loud at night, just to rub it in.
Maybe this is just me, and maybe my siblings are all a bunch of prudes, but I can safely say that I've only had one or two conversations about sex with my siblings and even then it was in very nebulous terms. They are almost all married, and I have no need, whatsoever, to know any details of their sex life. Call me crazy.
Anonymous: Hmm. Overshare: No way in hell I'm letting that happen, right? [chuckles] Anonymous: [smiles wanly, starts to type up a fake email in order to look busy] Overshare, sitting down: So I mentioned to CTF that that is what she would do, so he said as a joke, "Well, you should take me anyway and we can just make sure we're louder than them all weekend." Anonymous: [silent, praying this will be over soon] Overshare: So that's what we did. Every time we heard her and her husband starting up, we'd go at it. Yelling, screaming, anything we could think of. Anonymous: Er... Overshare: It actually turned out to be a great way to spice up our sex life! I highly recommend it. Anonymous: Er... Overshare: My sister actually said to me before we drove away that I should never let a man who makes me scream like that go. I'm so glad she approves! Maybe she could convince my mom...
Overshare: So, did I tell you that I need to make more money? Anonymous: No…
Now, I realize that some people are completely fine with discussing their salaries with just about anyone, and they don’t see anything wrong with that. I am not one of those people. Especially in a workplace, since you always run the risk of talking about how little money you make to someone who makes $5k less than you.
Overshare: Well, I do. And I decided how I’m going to do it. Anonymous: How? Overshare: I’m getting a second job.
I know what you’re thinking… so what’s the big deal, Anonymous? Lots of people get second jobs to make ends meet. Lots of people talk about how much money they make, even if you don’t like it. Why is this blog worthy?
Overshare: I’m going to be a bartender at Skank Bar.
That’s why.
Anonymous: I think that may be a bad idea… Overshare: No, no… just hear me out. Anonymous: Er….. Overshare, counting on her fingers: 1. I’d get to see CTF every night. Anonymous, muttering under her breath: Exactly. Overshare: 2. I could make sure that Swedish Nanny leaves CTF alone. 3. Bartenders make SO much money. 4. It combines my two favorite activities: watching CTF and drinking! Anonymous: Well, you’re not allowed to drink while you’re bartending. Overshare: Oh, the manager at Skank Bar doesn’t care. Anonymous: Riiiighhtt… Overshare: I wonder when I can start. Anonymous: Don’t you have to go to school to be bartender? Overshare: Do you? Anonymous: I’m pretty sure you do. You have to learn what goes into certain shots, etc. Overshare: Shit. Anonymous: Yeah. Too bad. Overshare: How long are the programs? Anonymous: Well, I've never really looked into it, but I think it's generally at least a year. Overshare: Double shit. [Awkward silence.] Overshare: Maybe I convince them to let me do it based on my amateur experiences alone. Anonymous, sarcastically: Yeah, that might work. Overshare: You think?
I’ve been delaying writing this one because… well… it was a rather traumatic overshare for me. This, dear readers, is the TMI story that was the catalyst to this blog.
There came a time in the past year when almost all of Overshare’s victims here at work were all out of town, all attending the same conference together. There was just little old me, a few of our accountants, Overshare, and some IT guys still around.
How did Overshare handle it? By telling the overshare to end all overshares, obviously, to the only person available. She came into my office and shut the door.
Overshare: I am so mad at CTF that I can barely speak. Anonymous, doubting that: What happened? Overshare: We had a date last night, and things were fantastic. We went to dinner at Swanky New Restaurant and then we ended up at one of those little county fairs… rode the Ferris wheel, he won me a prize. It was like a fairytale. Anonymous, who’s never heard a fairy tale involving a pedophilic bouncer: Didn’t it end well? Overshare: Well, we’re lying in his bed, enjoying the afterglow, when he decides he wants to play the Ratings Game.
It just doesn’t sound good, does it? Not even knowing what it is exactly, the very name of the game doesn’t sound like an enjoyable “afterglow” activity. But hey, maybe that’s just me.
Anonymous: Ratings Game? What’s that? Overshare: You know, the game where you can ask your partner to rate anything about you on a scale of 1 to 10 and they have to be 100% honest.
Yep, just like I thought. Not a fun game.
Anonymous: That just sounds like a bad idea. Overshare: Usually, it’s really fun. Anonymous: Really? Overshare: Really. Anyway, so we start off and at first, CTF does really well. I ask him to rate my looks; he says I’m a ten.
At this point in the story, She Who Haikus usually busts in with a “So, obviously we know CTF’s rating system is broken.”
Overshare: I gave him an 8 for looks. Then I ask about personality; he gives me another 10. So far, so good, right? Anonymous: Uhhhh… Sure. Overshare: So instead of asking for his personality rating back [she says this like it’s supposed to be a given] he asks me to rate his sexual performance.
It is at this point that I realize I’m about to hear something I can’t unhear. This is going to be life altering, and the freight train is coming. There’s no way to stop her—I can’t send an emergency email to Witty Comeback, there is no hope of my boss walking in, there are no meetings I can make up. Everyone is gone. We’re going there whether I like it or not. I do the only thing I can do: I stop responding. It doesn’t help.
Anonymous: [silence] Overshare: So I give him a nine—I say it’s a solid nine and that the only thing that takes the one point away is that we haven’t orgasmed together yet. Anonymous: [silence] Overshare: So, I ask him to rate my performance. You know what the Asshat said? Anonymous: [silence] Overshare: He had the nerve to say a seven! A seven!! And then, without me even asking, he rates my blowjob performance a six!! Can you believe that? Anonymous: [silence, feigns interest in a pencil on desk] Overshare: So I got mad, and told him more than one guy has complimented me on my bj technique. You know what he said? You know what he said?? Anonymous: [silence] Overshare: He said, and I quote: “Well, I guess I’ve just had better.” Anonymous: [chokes] Overshare: Here, let me see that pencil…
I kid you not, folks. She grabbed the pencil from my desk. I almost started to cry. She began to demonstrate her technique on the pencil. I shall spare you the sordid details, but let’s just say that Anonymous Coworker received a very detailed explanation of hand placement and tongue use, among other things.
Overshare, not sorry at all: Wow. Sorry I unloaded like that. I just can’t believe he said six! I think that deserves WAAY more than a six!! Anonymous: [silence] Overshare: Well… I’ve taken up most of your morning. Wanna have lunch?
When my coworkers came back the next week, I made them all buy me a drink at the next happy hour, for taking that one for the team. I still have nightmares, most featuring her reaching out, in slow motion... Here...let me see that pencil.
Toolshed is in a band. I know this because he tells us all the time. Overshare is his band's #1 fan/groupie. She's always trying to get all of Toolshed's coworkers to go out to the seedy bar that his band plays at all the time.
I could handle all of this with a polite "I'm busy" in most circumstances. I mean, really... in the light of how crazy my coworkers can be (Climbing into computer boxes? Dating pedophiles? Foodgasms?) one of them being in a Crappy Band isn't that big of a deal. Should be like water on a duck's back. Except for the Freaking List Serve.
Yep, I said it. List Serve.
Now, I understand the need for a device to notify your entire fan base of your Crappy Band's appearances. I'm not ignorant of the fact that it's a very effective way of communicating for bands that people wouldn't normally search out to see as one would, say, U2. But it's always been my understanding that a list serve should be a voluntary thing. Like "Hey, I'm in a bar and Crappy Band is playing and for some reason I don't mind them too much. Maybe I'll join their list serve so I can know when and where they're playing next."
I never signed up for Toolshed's Crappy Band's list serve. No. I'm there merely because I'm his coworker. And there is NO UNSUBSCRIBE FEATURE. Once or twice a week a freaking Tooly McToolerson email shows up in my work email, always badly written, to tell me to come out and see Toolshed in all his Tooly Glory.
The straw that broke the camel's back came today. I'm posting the email beause I just. Can't. Take it. Anymore.
Some of you may notice the religious undertones. Compliments Oh-My-God-I-Loved-It's religion conversation so well, wouldn't you say?
Here's the email, edited slightly so as not to give away the location or the band.
If that doesn't hold sway and you need another reason to head out, consider this: Tax Day. Either you are getting a refund and need something to spend it on (how about a band, great food, cheap drinks, and a cab ride home?) or you have to pay THE MAN and are hankering for some throw-down, slack-jaw, out-house blues to cure what ails ya'!
Still not convinced? OK, how about you're a Christian and need to get some good sinning in before you are forgiven on Sunday morning at Easter Mass -- or better yet, if you have as good a time as you always do you'll likely end up close to dead (from sheer joy, or alcohol poisoning) -- and you can get resurrected with the rest of the world by eating hard-boiled eggs, chocolate bunnies, and marshmallow peeps (hard or soft? you decide).
Last try for the Jews among us: You need a reason to escape the madness of your Matzo-castle and make an Exodus to celebrate your freedom at [the Crappy Bar] (ouch, sorry, that's a tough pun).
Whatever the reason, you won't be disappointed in your decision to attend. See you Saturday!
Before we get to today’s Overshare, I just wanted to talk about how much I appreciate all of you readers. One of my main joys is seeing how some people get here. Did you know that if you Google “leather miniskirt Halloween wig”, you get this blog? And my all time favorite search term to lead here? “Baptist Boobs.” Five dollars says they were disappointed. So thank you my faithful readers. You’ve helped bring laughter to someone who was obviously looking for religious porn.
On to the Overshare!
Anonymous: So, are CTF and Swedish Nanny still dating? Overshare, sullenly: Yes. Anonymous: Oh. I’m sorry to hear that? Overshare: It’s ok. Actually, I had a long talk with her the other night. Anonyous: Is this before or after you called the police on her for harassing you? Overshare: After. And the police said I didn’t have much of a case. Anonymous: Oh, that’s too bad. Overshare: So anyway, I was at Skank Bar a few days ago and so was Swedish Nanny. So pathetic. She was just sitting there, waiting for him to get off work.
I’d just like to interject here that while most of them were not blog-worthy, I do remember several Overshare/CTF stories that started out with “So, I was just sitting at Skank Bar, waiting for CTF to get off work…” But obviously, it’s a different thing entirely if it’s Overshare doing it instead of Swedish Nanny.
Anonymous: Ok… Overshare: Well, CTF was outside working the door, and Swedish Nanny was sitting inside at the bar. I decided to go talk to her about not calling my phone for CTF anymore. Anonymous: How did that go over? Overshare: Well, it really freaked CTF out. He walked inside to get a drink while we were sitting together and he kept calling my phone but I wouldn’t pick up. Anonymous: He kept calling your phone? Overshare: Yeah, he saw us sitting together, talking… so he took his ten-minute break and went into the manager’s office to use the phone. He was trying to get me to leave. He left me like four frantic messages. "Overshare, I know what you're doing! Just stop it!" Anonymous: Yeah, I'm sure he hated that. What were you and Swedish Nanny talking about? Overshare: Well, it started out the way our phone conversations usually do. She loves him, will talk to him whenever she wants, blah blah blah. But then she started talking about how she can’t lose CTF because he’s her only friend and she’s from Sweden and all of her family is there. And I felt kinda bad. Anonymous: Felt bad for still seeing CTF when he's dating Swedish Nanny or felt bad because she doesn’t have any friends? Overshare: Because she doesn’t have any friends. Anonymous: Ok… Overshare: So I told her that we could be friends. Anonymous: [chokes] Overshare: So we’re going to start hanging out without CTF. Anonymous: That should be interesting. Overshare: It felt so nice to actually do something for someone else. She was so happy she went home without CTF. We’re supposed to hang out this week. Anonymous: Did you go home then too? Overshare: Oh, no. I waited for CTF and then we went back to my place. The sex was so amazing! Anonymous, sarcastically: How nice of you. Overshare, obliviously: Yeah. I’m going to go check what movies are playing in case she wants to see one.
