The Sweet Release of Death

Lunchroom Blues

The Horrifying Stench of Kirstie Alley's Boiled Panties

03/23/2010 05:21 AM

Got your attention? That taste in your mouth of bile is only your body’s way of saying, “Don’t ever read that damn title again!” But as shocking as the title may be, it’s the only way I can describe what out our lunchroom smelled like on Monday. Sorry. Really I am. But I have to actually live with it, smell it... where as you; you just get to read about it. So until I invent a Scratch-n-Sniff e-card, well, Kirstie’s undies will have to act as my literary suicide bomber. Now, I love Asian food and lord knows I loves me a nice bowl of Pho’, but what my Asian co-workers do to the lunchroom makes the dungeons of the Spanish Inquisition look like a playground at McDonald’s. As much as the thought of Kirstie’s boiled panties made you throw up in your mouth, the sight of the microwave after lunchtime would have you asking me; “ So... tell me about her panties again. It will help me erase the face of the Devil I just saw in Mr. Microwave. Please!!”

Yeah, its that bad. Why, you could stand in a crowded pigpen, chomping on a rank piece of Limburger cheese, and you’d think you were in the midst of an Irish Spring commercial. Case in point, one of my buddies on the production floor, Tim; he opened the door and simply blurted Godammit! He spun on his heels and left. I don’t know what’s worse, the actual encounter of the stench or someone asking me “ well, what does it smell like?” When I drop the “Kirstie bomb” I see the same mortified expression that I saw on Tim’s face, so, I think I do a pretty good job in the Word/Smell analogy department. Although I think I have turned a few co-workers off of soup, microwaves, panties... First off, just as a public service tip about microwaves and the food that goes in them: #1. For the love of fucking God, NO FISH!! I don’t care if you are Pat Boone milquetoast white-boy or Ho Chi Minh incarnate, No Fucking fish in the microwave. #2. SEE RULE #1.

Monday’s are bad enough as it is. Do we really need lunchroom terrorism? Luckily, it was a nice sunny day out, so I took to the hills of Burritoland. But because of those that violated rule #1, by the time I got back an hour later, the lunchroom still reeked of Charlie Sheen’s bedroom. But it got worse. Much worse. How you say? Well let me open up my Care Bare sticker’d box of analogies. Lets say Kirstie went on Oprah and lounged around on that couch in her Muumuu (did I mention the couch is leather, Hot stage lights, Indian food the night before...) an hour passes and Kirstie is done blabbing to Oprah. Everything under The Kirst’s Muumuu is for a lack of a better word, moist. What does Kirstie like after a rousing, fun-filled hour with Oprah? How does Orville Redenbacher’s microwavable Garlic Butter and Onion Kettle Corn sound? Can you smell it? Fuck yes you can! Its as if you just landed in old Calcutta. Yes nothing says “ Bringing you the scent of fucked up flavors of the world” like some asshole nuking nasty popcorn after 12 rounds of nuked fish.

These fouls of microwave etiquette, made at last count, 25 people kind of snap their neck askew, squint their eyes and then whimper with a tear “ what the... What the fuck is that smell?” I simply say its nuked fish and some of Orville’s bastardized popcorn. If I were to say its Kirstie Alley’s cellulite-choked undies boiled in fish sauce, that would make people puke. And we don’t want the smell added to the mix now do we?

Tags: Kirstie Alley, Oprah, McDonald's, Orvill Redenbacher, Pat Boone, Ho Chi Minh Limburger,

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Cup O' Sink

02/04/2010 06:03 AM

Look at the photo. Yeah, I know... Should have put a time stamp on it. It’s 2010 folks and yes Virginia, the work sink is still plagued by the Cup O’ Soup Bandit. It’s like the Al-Qaeda of the lunchroom. Its not one person as much as it is a mindset, one goes down another shall rise. Its not just the lunchroom sink either, there are other helpless victims of this archaic groups broad swath of stupidity. Bathroom anyone? Ah, but that is another story for another time for now the focus lies on Mr. Sink. We have a general time that the Bandit strikes (most common during the hour of 11:30 am to 12:30pm) but its identity eludes us.

The Bandit blends in with the crowd that encloses around the microwaves and sink area in the fashion of a fine Spartan army. He is cloaked by the chaos that surrounds him; his crime against Mr. Sink is carried out swiftly and soundly. Mr. Sink is choked with the drain-clogging brutality that is stringy pasta and cubed carrots. Once the microwave jackals have cleared, the Bandit is gone like a Nixon file. Mr. Sink lies there suffering, gasping its last drain-gurgling breath. It is usually a bit later when a Samaritan stumbles upon the horrific scene, strolling over for a jolt from Mr. Coffee. It’s not like finding a dead prostitute in the Florida Everglades, but good god almighty its no Care Bears cartoon either. Some might be able to handle this debauchery, but most will need some serious time on Uncle Therapy’s couch for witnessing the carnage that lay before them.

So the dirty deed of clean-up and resuscitation of Mr. Sink falls upon the Samaritan of Coffee. Although the Samaritan of Coffee’s good deed is commendable, the monologue throughout the clean-up process is vitriolic. Each curse, getting more razor-sharp than the one before. Each nasty bit of carrot that is plucked from Mr. Sinks drain trap, brings forth a diabolical vignette of capturing the Cup O’ Soup Bandit. Each vignette brings forth yet another acidic curse. I’ll catch you, you filthy bastard... I’ll catch you, mutters the Samaritan of Coffee. So as Mr. Sink is brought back to life, his stainless steel face glimmering, the light casting off of his freshly scrubbed drain sends a twinkle of thanks to the Samaritan of Coffee. The lunchroom is at peace again... or is it? For while the Cup O’ Soup Bandit was executing his dirty deed, the Kill the Joe Bandit had also struck, leaving a stunned Mr. Coffee drained of his Columbian goodness. There will be no peace in the lunchroom today.

Tags: office slobs, bandits, workplace violence