Don't Think I Didn't Lysol My Monitor

It's taken me a bit to work up the intestinal fortitude to write this particular incident up, but here goes.

I'm sitting in my office one day, as almost all of these posts start, minding my own business. It's been a particularly hard time for me at work-- lots of projects, demands on my time, general shifting of duties around our department, etc.-- so I've not been paying Overshare all that much attention, and she's been under some stress too so she hasn't been demanding all that much either. I must admit, it was nice. Nice to just come into work every day, do my work, and not have Drama all the live-long day.

I should have known it wouldn't last, but I could never imagine it would start back up like this.

Overshare walks in, puts her elbow on the top of my computer screen and proceeds to roll up her sleeve to well past her elbow.

Overshare: I either have ringworm or Lyme disease. Which does this look like to you?

And honestly, it looked like the foul Satan-child of both of these images:

(And before any of you get upset with me for posting such disgusting pictures, let me tell you: I did you a favor. Google-searching for images of ringworm is foul. FOUL, I tell you. Just sayin'.)

I WISH I was making this crap up, I really do. Have I mentioned that I'm not a doctor? Or a registered nurse? Why is she asking me for a diagnosis? I guess I should just be thankful The Nasty was on her arm, and not in a more... er... delicate region.

Anonymous: Uh... I don't know.
Overshare: Huh. Guess I should call my doctor.

But did she call her doctor? No. Have you forgotten who we're dealing with? Why call a health care professional when you can overshare and THEN call a health care professional?

No, she chose instead to ask EVERY. OTHER. EMPLOYEE. what this mysterious red circle could possibly be on her arm. She talked about which diagnosis was more likely all day, and at one point, printed out pictures of both issues (apparently that Google search didn't bother her at all) and held an impromptu comparison party with a group she accosted in the kitchen. Because nothing says "Mmmm... LUNCH!" like a highly communicable fungus or burrowing insects.

At the end of the day, she came back into my office, rolling her sleeve back down her arm.

Overshare: Jeez. I can't believe people in this office sometimes. You know that everyone spent all day talking about my arm? Don't they have work to do?

Perhaps She Should See An Analrapist...

Any Arrested Development fans in the house?

Lord, I hope so.

A while ago, our company reorganized our offices and eventually it was decided that my desk would be very close to the desk of Oh My God I Loved It. So close that I'm not frequently subjected to overhearing her conversations. Now, while I had become very, very well-versed in her opinion of certain religions... I had no idea that she was actually Tobias Funke, in disguise. She has a habit of getting certain words of popular sayings completely wrong.



Most of Oh My God I Loved It's unfortunate word choices happen when she's speaking to her boss, which let me tell you, makes not laughing out loud that much harder. A small sampling of the hilarity, with her intended meaning in brackets:

OMGILI: Boss, sometimes I just can't wrap my hands around you! [I can't wrap my mind around your idea.]

OMGILI, fanning herself in embarrassment: Boss, you're making me so hot! [You're making me blush.]

OMGILI: It's one of those International Bachelorette programs. [I'm not entirely sure, but here's hoping she meant "International Baccalaureate."]

OMGILI, to coworker: Well, Boss Man owes you a big fat one, doesn't he? [Your boss owes you a favor for doing that project.]

I swear though, if she starts showing up in cut-off jean shorts, I'm so out of here.

Uh.... Thanks?

So, just to remind you... I work in an office of crazy people. Granted, their level of craziness doesn't come anywhere close to challenging Overshare for the championship, but I have some random ass conversations with other coworkers as well.

Case in Point:

Oh-My-God-I-Loved-It: Oh my God. I love your sweater.
Anonymous Coworker: Thanks.
OMGILI: It's such a pretty color.
Anonymous Coworker: Thanks-- my mom bought it for me.
OMGILI: Is that a tank top underneath?
Anonymous Coworker: Yeah, it's got snowflakes on it...
OMGILI: You know.... you really could have gone without it; we all love your cleave.
Anonymous Coworker: ...................

Define "Stupid Reason"

Hmmm.... so apparently, you all noticed that I hadn't posted in, say, forever. Guess that means I should say something about it.

I think I've been dealing with a little bit of empathy for poor old Overshare. Got a little too close to my subject, and lost a little perspective on just how WHACK she is. Never fear, dear readers... I've regained that perspective. Hence, I'm back. Turns out I just needed a good conversation with Witty Comeback about the Crazy, and the muse returned.

Lots of you have asked about the birthday party mentioned a couple of posts ago, for which Overshare purchased all the jello. I didn't attend. No, luckily, I had a family friend come into town that weekend and was thus spared the horror. I DID get to hear all about it. Or at least, I got to hear the interesting part.

Overshare: So, I think I need to move out of my apartment with Wyoming.
Anonymous: Why?
Overshare: Well, after that party this weekend... Wyoming has forbidden CTF from coming over!
Anonymous: Oh, dear... what did he do?
Overshare: WHY DOES EVERYONE ASSUME HE DID SOMETHING?
Anonymous: Er... because it doesn't make much sense for Wyoming to forbid him from coming over without having done something?
Overshare: Whatever. She's crazy.
Anonymous: She really did it without any reason at all?
Overshare: Well, she has a stupid reason. But that's it. A STUPID REASON.
Anonymous: What's the stupid reason?
Overshare: He peed on the carpet.
Anonymous: [silence.]
Overshare: In the living room.
Anonymous: [silence.]
Overshare: With everyone still there.
Anonymous: [silence.]
Overshare: But he was REALLY drunk!

Those must have been some AWESOME jello shots.

New "Ass"istant

One afternoon, Overshare and Toolshed ran into my office.

Overshare and Toolshed, in unison: Guess what?? We’re having a baby!!

This statement gave me a mini-heart attack. And then subsequently gave me an incredibly strong urge to stab out my own eyes. It’s not a pretty mind-picture to have, these two procreating, much less with each other.

But by this point, I’ve grown quite accustomed to Overshare’s random utterances that are meant to shock me into asking for clarification. So I just sat and looked at the two of them, waiting for the inevitable explanation.

Overshare and Toolshed, in unison again: We hired our new assistant!!

Yes, Dear Readers, I’m pleased to present to you Overshare and Toolshed’s new mutual assistant, Pompous McLaterson IV. Despite how real that name sounds, I promise, I made it up. And in order to get the job, you might remember, he must have spoken only in phrases at his interview.

Pompous McLaterson IV started the very next day. Apparently, he’s been unemployed for a while and is eager to start. He is a nice-enough guy, if slightly pompous... but only in that freshly-graduated "I'm going to change the world by the sheer force of my will and brilliance" naive way. Unfortunately for him, hell, unfortunately for us all, it didn’t take long for the oddities to begin.

At one point on his first day, Overshare was in my office (oversharing of course) when Pompous came in with a question. Quite normal for a new employee to have a question for his supervisor on his first day. He asked, she answered, he left.

He wasn’t two steps away from my door when it all began.

Overshare, loudly: Isn’t he so odd-looking?
Anonymous: What?
Overshare: Pompous! He’s just… ODD-looking.

It should be noted that Pompous was in NO WAY odd-looking. In fact, he was rather attractive.

Anonymous: I wouldn’t classify it as Odd, per se.
Overshare: Oh, it’s ODD. Something about his face.
Anonymous: What about his face?
Overshare: It’s ODD.

And that's it. That's all she'd say. Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh DEAR. Overshare calling him “odd-looking” really had only one meaning. She thought he was attractive, and wanted someone else to say it first. When I refused to say it, she walked all around the office, polling everyone as to whether they felt Pompous was, in fact, as odd-looking as she had deemed.

There is NO WAY IN HELL this is going to end well.

Grape or Red?

Overshare: I just sent you an email.

I hate it when she does that-- sends me an email and then walks directly into my office to discuss it. I guess I'd rather have a least a moment to process whatever it is she's sent before I'm forced to talk about it.

Overshare: Is it there yet?
Anonymous: Nope.

[Awkward pause.]

Overshare: Now?
Anonymous: Nope.

[Awkward pause.]

Overshare: What about...
Anonymous: All right, it's here. An evite?
Overshare: YEP! FOR MY BIRTHDAY!
Anonymous: But isn't your birthday in two months?
Overshare: Yes! Two months from today exactly!
Anonymous: A little early for an evite, isn't it?
Overshare: Oh, well you know I love to plan.
Anonymous: Right.
Overshare: All right, so reply!
Anonymous: What?
Overshare: REPLY!
Anonymous: Well, I'm not sure what my schedule is going to look like in two months...
Overshare: Well, now you know what you're doing on the 21st! RSVP!
Anonymous: I was thinking about going out of town...
Overshare: Just go a different weekend! RSVP, NOW!
Anonymous: Why the urgency?
Overshare: I need to know how much jello to buy for the jello shots!

The One with the Voicemails

I know, I KNOW! I’ve been gone so long!! I didn’t mean to abandon the blog… I guess I just hit a mental roadblock. But fear not, faithful readers, there are still stories to share, and I’m feeling the mojo again. Thanks to all of you who emailed and asked if I was dead, or perhaps in prison awaiting trial for killing a coworker. For the record, I am neither.

Overshare: I’m totally going to go see a movie with CTF tonight. It’s like the first time in weeks! We’ve mostly been spending our nights in. I’m so ready to DO something!
Anonymous: Hmm.
Overshare: Yeah, it’s going to be great. A movie!
Anonymous: [Silence.]
Overshare: [Cell phone rings] Oh, one sec. [Checks phone.] It’s CTF! [Answers cell phone.]

Yes, she answered her cell phone in my office. Because, you know, why wouldn’t I want to hear all the details about their upcoming date?

Overshare: Hey, sweetie-cutie-pie-pie.

And YES, she really did call him that. The double “pie” and everything. You’re not alone—it made me vomit in my mouth a little too.

Overshare: Oh? Why can’t you do the later movie? You always like the later movies… oh… well, I kinda promised Wyoming I would drive her out to the Boondocks tonight before our movie, and since I’ve bailed on her a lot recently it wouldn’t be very wise… wait! You seriously can’t GO?? WHY CAN’T YOU GO?!!?!? WE’VE PLANNED THIS FOR WEEKS! [Long silence.] WHAT PAPER WORK?... PAPER WORK?... PAPER! WORK?!

Apparently, CTF can’t go to a late movie because he was “paper work” to do. You tell me… exactly how much paperwork do you think a bouncer has?

Overshare: FINE. WHATEVER. [Hangs up, storms out of my office without a word.]

I thought that would be the end of this particular overshare. Little did I know there would be a sequel waiting for me the next morning… Literally. As in, Overshare was sitting in my office the next morning, waiting for me.

Overshare: You WILL NOT BELIEVE the night I had last night.
Anonymous: No, I probably won’t.
Overshare: So, remember how he cancelled on me to do “paperwork?”
Anonymous: Vaguely.
Overshare: So, check this… I dropped Wyoming off out in the Boondocks last night, and got a little lost on my way home… so the next thing I know, I realize that I’m actually really close to CTF’s house.

Reality Check: Anyone believe her story so far? Yeah, me neither.

Anonymous: Convenient.
Overshare: Yeah. So, I realized that CTF had left some stuff in my car from our little trip a couple of weeks ago, and thought I’d do the nice thing and drop them off… since I was in the area and all.
Anonymous: Right.
Overshare: So I call CTF: no answer. I call him again, because he’s only supposed to be doing paperwork, right? Again, no answer. So then I call the home phone, and his dad picked up… and would you even BELIEVE what he told me?
Anonymous: Uhh…. That CTF wasn’t around?
Overshare: EXACTLY!
Anonymous: So then what?
Overshare: I call his cell phone AGAIN, and this time I leave a really irate message. REALLY IRATE. And he doesn’t call me back!
Anonymous: Wow.
Overshare: Yeah. But then, about an hour later… I started to feel really bad, because, you know, maybe he ran out to grab something to eat or something… so I hacked into his voicemail to delete the message.

Wait a second… doesn’t this sound vaguely reminiscent of a Friends episode? You know, where Monica calls Richard and leaves the “breezy” voicemail (“Breezy… I’m BREEZY!”) only to regret it, then tries to hack in to delete it…

Overshare: But then, I listened to his other messages, which included one from this chick JULIE, wondering where he was because SHE was at the movie theater, WAITING FOR HIM!
Anonymous: Wow… so what did you do?
Overshare: I deleted HER message and left mine.
Anonymous: That’s horrible.
Overshare: Whatever. I own the damn phone anyway.

My favorite part of the whole thing? Clearly, CTF was trying to set up a multiple date situation that night... attempted to move Overshare to an early movie so he could see Julie later. I wonder if Overshare ever caught on to that.

And finally, a Private Message to an Unknown Googler:
Seriously, take my advice: googling something like “Dylan & Cole Sprouse LATE BLOOMERS!!!!! SEX!” is only going to get you on an FBI watch list or something. Because… just… ew. Knock it off. Do you really want to end up meeting Chris Hansen in a well-lit kitchen someday?