2005-02-04 - 2:52 p.m.

It never ceases to amaze me how people can get their panties in a bunch over really small things. I was standing in the lobby of my office waiting for the elevator. This woman at the front desk was taking the doorman to task because he had sent her to the wrong floor. The doorman had gone through the entire directory looking for whoever she was here to see then showed her the list so she could check for herself. Apparently this office is not listed in our building. Instead of taking a deep breath and three giant steps back, she started demanding his name so she could report him as an evil bastard for keeping her from her appointment. During her rant she said, “I have the phone number and the address right here!” Well, I may be a little slow on the uptake but instead of carrying on like a petulant child CALL THE PEOPLE AND FIND OUT WHERE THEY ARE. I hope she feels like an ass when she finds out she is in the wrong building.

I find it funny that people react to words in different ways. There are some words that I cannot bring myself to say because they just make my skin crawl. These are some words that skeeve me out: crotch, panties, Falujah, and making love. An interesting cross-section of words I know, but allow me to explain.
Crotch just sounds like it should be a dirty word. My mom used to sew a lot of my skating dresses and during the trying on phase she always asked me how it felt in the crotch (is it too tight, is it pulling…). If that doesn’t sound creepy, then I don’t know my own name!
I can’t quite put my finger on why I dislike panties so much. There is just something about the way it rolls off the tongue that disagrees with me. And forget it if I hear a man refer to underwear as panties, that skeeves me out even more (I just made my skin crawl typing that). So, if you are ever in my presence, please do not utter that word and if I am at your house, please have the decency to mute the TV when the Victoria’s Secret Semi Annual Sale commercial is on!
Falujah, what can I say? It sounds like a social disease to me. “Man, I have got to get to the doctor, I think I have a scorching case of Falujah! That’s the last time I pick up a transvestite hooker in Haiti.”
Making love isn’t so much a word as a term… but I include it here anyway because really, it just sounds like a pansy way of saying that you just had hot, stinky, monkey sex. Call a spade a spade. I’m just saying.

OK, an update on the lunatic in our lobby. When I went down for lunch I stopped by the doorman and said something about how that woman earlier was insane. He told me that she did call his boss to complain about him… and went so far as to accuse him of threatening her. WHAT? If anything he was more than accommodating to her while she was having her tantrum. The kicker, she WAS in the wrong building. Too bad there isn’t anyone to call and complain about her being a complete ass clown!

previous - next