a-okay

I had to buy deodorant yesterday.

Deodorant is in the Personal Items category, and the Rules Of Life say you must buy something else when purchasing a product from said category.

If you walk up to a cashier and slam down just a stick of deodorant, you might as well just go ahead and grab them by the shoulders, pull them over to your armpit and say, “Smell me, go ahead, do it!  I stink.  Please, this is all I need to be normal again – please help me!”

It would not be pretty scene and the cops may also be called.

So when I went into the Duane Reade I knew I had to buy some other item to make it look like I was not on the verge of making people vomit with my body odor.

I perused the aisles searching for The Perfect Thing that would not make the cashier judge me.

Cards?

No.

No one is playing cards with a dude who stinks.  The cashier would never believe that I have friends.

Shampoo?

No.

I did not want the cashier thinking that not only did my armpits smell, my hair was also Not Quite Right.

I finally decided on a Kashi energy bar after much debate and brought it up to a cashier that was giving me a face like she loved her job.  Or maybe she was just hating her life and wanted me to know it.

It was when I sat my items down on the counter that I noticed that the label on the Kashi bar proudly proclaimed, “Now With 3X The Fiber!” in big bold type.

Perfect.

I was now a smelly man and approximately 85 years-old and/or had a severe problem with my plumbing.

I couldn’t say anything in my defense.  I just paid and left as quickly as I could.

I think I’ll stay away from that Duane Reade for at least a week or two, just because I don’t want to have to face that cashier again.

I’d go up to pay, she’d look at me then ask, “So how are we feeling today?”

And I’d have to lie and say, “I feel fine.  I feel perfectly normal.”

 

(I’m not gonna be around tomorrow, because I’ll be eating semi-charred foods and drinking too much alcohol, so if you’re looking for something to read, please take the time to check out the posts that I linked to on the Okay Playa! page.) 

problem solver

One of the worst situations to ever be caught in, is riding the elevator with someone from work that you kinda know.

Of course, it just happened to me now.

I stepped into an empty elevator, all set to enjoy a solo ride to my floor, when in walks Coworker Dude.  Now, it’d be fine if I didn’t know him at all, but because I’ve said, “hey” to him a couple times when passing by him in our office, The Rules of Life dictate that I must speak to this man during our ride, despite how I’d much rather continue rocking out to “Word Up” on my iPhone.

And so the dance begins.

Me: “So, what do you think about all this Clemens stuff?  You following that at all?”

Coworker Dude: “No, not really.”

[mad awkward silence for what seems to be about half-an-hour]

Me: “Yeah, well, it’ll be nice to get out early today if all the stories get in for the deadline.”

Coworker Dude: “Yeah.”

At this point I’m ready to punch this dude in the face.  I just put my stupid ass out there and tried to make this godawful elevator ride a little less uncomfortable, and this fucker has done nothing but make it worse.

Thankfully, just when I’m about to fly into a blind rage, our floor comes up.

The next time this happens to me, I’m just going to spout an endless stream of facts, so that there is no gap in conversation and there is no need for the other person to speak.

Me:  “Lions are the second largest cat after the tiger.”

[Coworker looks at me, wondering if I’m talking to him]

Me: “Rubber bands last longer when you put them in the fridge.”

Coworker: [Confused and slightly agitated] “Uh, are you talking to”

Me: [Cutting him off] “There’s no Betty Rubble in Flintstones Vitamins.”

[Our floor comes up]

Me: “Well, have a good one.”

[Victory is mine]