Captain, My Captain

The Adventures of Captain N-EO

One of my all-time favorite work partners-in-crime is “Captain Neo.” There are a bajillion funny stories we have about work because on any given day, Captain Neo and I would cause all kinds of crazy to ensue – or be caught laughing hysterically at the craziness that surrounded us. This is the tale of one such occasion.

My cubical was across from Andrew. Andrew was a quiet worker. One day a large cubical opened up and when I passed the opportunity to move into it, Andrew jumped at the chance. The new cubical was waaaaaay over in an isolated corner of the building, with barely any foot traffic. Andrew liked that he could be off in his own little cubby without the Jamboree Bear yammering on about his Chinese wife and affection for various cheeses 7 hours of the work day.

There is nothing but tumbleweeds in there.

Andrew probably didn’t mind being far away from Captain Neo and my antics either, but I digress. Anyhow, his former cubical was right in the line of a work crossroads. If you were coming to or from one department to another, you could see him – if you were coming from the bathroom, kitchen or copy room- you could see him. So, it didn’t take long for questions to start being whispered among the staff.

Psst “I think Andrew was fired… his cubical is empty” pssst “Did you hear about Andrew? He was let go…” psst…

Soon, a coworker, Kim pssted to Captain Neo via instant messenger: “Hey, what happened to Andrew?”

Captain Neo replied, “Oh that guy? You didn’t hear? He totally died.”

“WHAT?! That cannot be true!”

“But it IS true, Kim. It is true. Why would I joke about something like that?!”

“Oh my gosh, I’m shocked!”

*at this point Captain Neo runs to my desk and says “Kim is going to ask you about Andrew, I told her he died. DON”T EFF THIS UP FOR ME!”*

Soon there after Kim did im me: “Did you hear about Andrew?”

“Yeah, he’s in a better place now.”

“Like he moved?”

“Yes, to heaven – on a cloud.”

Casper the Friendly Co-Worker

It took a few hours but by lunch we convinced her that Andrew had passed into the great beyond. We then told Andrew that if he hears a rumor that he died, it was because of us. He found it pretty amusing.

Two days later, Kim was walking down the hall and Andrew popped out from a side door. Kim nearly shizzed herself. For a split second she thought she saw a ghost. When Kim came to yell at us and I nearly peed Captain Neo’s pants. It was THAT funny – mostly because we’d already forgotten about having told her he died in the first place.

Please note – Andrew is alive and well, as he’s always has been. However, Kim is still pissed.




Get Your Ugly Bag On

I have met a lot of people in my life, but the very first person I ever met was my “Grama” – she was the first one that held me, the one I lived with for most of my early childhood, the one that I’m told I get my humor from and the one that comes to mind when I think of the word “love.” She had the most beautiful heart and disposition. Despite her life’s many struggles she always had the BEST sense of humor and outlook on life. People gravitated to her for that reason- and the fact that she was so darn funny and lovable!

She passed 2 years ago but I still miss her and think about some memory I have from her, everyday. It’s become my aunt and my favorite thing to reminisce about – something that reminds us of her, or something funny she said or did to make us laugh. So it’s with that that I have decided to start sharing some of my fun memories of her here.

This is Grama. ❤ We took this picture of her at Disney World because she “felt like JLo in this hat.” My aunt was here too- saying “Ma, look up at the camera” but Grama could never quite put together exactly “what hole I’m supposed to be looking in!” Also, she knew it made us laugh to try to instruct her, so she would play it up- big time to get us going.

*Grama stares at the ceiling*

“Can you see me now? How do I look now?”

The most beautiful heart the world will have ever known. She was mouthing “heeeeya fellas!” when we took this shot. lol

One year, several years ago, Grama moved into the basement apartment at my Aunt and Uncle’s lake house. At the time, the house was being updated and there was construction fallout everywhere. A midst it all, Grama tried to let the dogs out, tripped and ended up giving herself two black eyes from where her glasses hit her face on the impact. Now, if I were talking about anybody else but her – this would be a sad story. But I assure you it’s not. She became embarrassed to have any of the workers see her “so beatin’ by the stick.” (She meant the ugly stick.) So my Uncle, to lighten the mood, said – “Ma! I just thought of something we could do!”

My Uncle ran upstairs and disappeared for 10 minutes. When he came back he proudly handed Grama a paper bag he’d crafted with two eye holes and the word “OUCH” written across the forehead in magic marker. He waited for her reaction.

*Grama inspected the bag…

“This is PERFECT!!!” Grama exclaimed as she tried on the bag laughing all the while. When my uncle left, Grama said “Hey, can you give me a yell if any workers are coming down? I wanna make sure I get my ugly bag on.” My uncle shook his head and chuckled because he knew she wasn’t joking and that he’d created a monster. She wore that bag everyday when the workers were around. They would work and she would watch her soap operas… from inside her bag.  Not one of them ever said ANYTHING – but she would often pipe up if she saw them staring. “Oh don’t mind me – I just took a spill on the ugly stick.”

She kept that bag for a while after her bruises healed. Anytime my cousin or I complained about not feeling pretty or having a pimple she’d whip it out and say “know your role.”


“Always hang out with the ugly ones because it’s the ugly ones that have all the cute friends!” -Grama

My aunt and I with Grama, back in the zeros.

Cinnamon Flavored Co-worker

I had a co-worker named Matt. I say “had” not because he died or anything, he just went to rock the world in places more appreciative of his awesomeness.

Before he left, we (my co-worker friends) asked Matt to do the Cinnamon Challenge. He was warned it was impossible, but he went balls in anyways! The cinnamon, however, did not go in. It just poofed out of his face like a giant brown dust vortex. The expression on Matt’s face while the cinnamon dust was billowing out of him is priceless. I laughed ’til I almost peed myself because about the eyes he just looked like he was just waiting for the bus. After he got through the 10 minutes of spiced attack, he mustered up the strength to get out the following comment:

“There… was no… where for it… to go but… up”

Which made us laugh even harder because it didn’t make any sense.

Please note: this is not vomit. It’s just a cinnamon cloud billowing out of Matt’s mouth at an alarming rate.

A spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down, son!

Ever since “The Challenge,” Matt will not eat cinnamon anything.

***I DO NOT recommend that anyone tries the Cinnamon Challenge because Rhonda and Fabian say it is dangerous and that you will certainly die. I’m glad that Matt did not perish.***

Congratulations blog visitors, you just met the most bad-ass co-worker in the country!

Here’s the original Cinnamon Challenge that inspired our hi-jinx, by one Miss Sassy GloZell.

***I DO NOT recommend that anyone tries the Cinnamon Challenge because Rhonda and Fabian say it is dangerous and that you will certainly die. I’m equally glad that GloZell did not perish. I DO recommend that GloZell purchases some regular teaspoons.***


Get Out of Anything Free Card

I have found, through research, social interaction and reflection, that the best way to get out of anything; work, a party, dinner, slide shows, dates, meetings, conversation, breakups, etc. … diarrhea. Tell them you have diarrhea. No one wants to talk about it, and they definitely don’t want any more details. It works every time. I suppose saying anything awkward and conventionally embarrassing would work, this particular phrase just holds a warm place in my heart because it’s about as classy as one can get. Seriously, try it – just for *$hits* and giggles. Everyone in earshot will just go dead silent and you will rule the entire world.

Shart Crossing

Just so you know, I gave this advice during a staff meeting a few months ago when one of the executives said they didn’t want to meet with a troublesome client. The very next day someone on our staff called in with “incontinence”, and blamed some bad sausage balls. If he’d gone with strait up “diarrhea”, he wouldn’t have had to panic for a cause. (Who the hell is eating “sausage balls” on a Tuesday morning? Play it down, son!) Still, I felt proud, and he got the day off.


“Nonsensical broad is nonsensical”

I was looking for post/blogs about working out because a bish likes to dream. I saw one called “OUTLAW,” and while I knew it was most-likely not going to be my cup of tea, I clicked on it. I guess I was curious because it said “outlaw workout” and my overactive imagination said “we must know this information.”  When I went to the blog, it was basically a Mr. Universe type work out personality, giant muscles and the sort, and not half as colorful as I’d hoped. It was all testosterone up in that muther. I thought that my thinking it was going to be actual outlaws chatting like “lifted a tree out by the roots today, my bye-bye arms are as good as gone, son!” was amusing so I left a post about it. I soon learned that muscles and magic do not mix. It was like I was in Avatar and they were in the Army trying to steal my tree. Luckily, one of them sort of spoke Na’vi and I made it out alive, but I’m fairly certain 34 of them wanted to shoot my unicorn… and then do 90 low bar bench reps with his cold, dead, rainbowed carcass.

“WTF is a turtle bomb?”

Guess that J.R. dude is right, instead of showing your face on the internet – you should probably just stick to using your first and last name. Kudos to Ken though – and really all of them, cause it cracked me up that our languages/personalities were so different! They looked at my paragraph and were like “does. not. compute.”

TRUST me all of their outlaw workout posts looked like:

|= @_@ (*$$$*@()x20 @%#$(@x40 (@!%&&x60 (rest for 90)

to me too.


Have you ever tried to communicate with someone that just “does. not. compute?” Let’s hear it!

Here Comes Big Foot

Bitches like getting pedicures. But I am slowly developing a complex about getting pedicures done at a salon. The reason being, every time I go- the technician gets smaller and smaller. Seriously, it’s like this place is populated by those Russian nesting dolls.

The tiny bitch inside the one in the back gave me a pedicure.

If I go by past height patterns, the next technician will be a 3-footer, easy. I should note, I’m not talking little persons – I’m just talking petite-as-shit women. Anyhow, most of the time they are Vietnamese women, and I have come to expect a certain level of cultural petite-ness, but this shit is outta control! It’s not like I’m the only one who’s noticing because I am fairly certain they are saying “Whoa! Holy cow! Looky dis big ol’ foot!” in their native tongue. (Loosely translated, but there’s a shit-ton of pointing going on too.) I am a size 9 shoe, and on a normal day I feel fairly foot-confident. But on pedicure day, that all comes crashing down.

Chairs of Destiny

My last pedi-venture was with the smallest technician yet. She scooted over on her little chair, and it looked like she was riding a pony. Like, you could see the chair cushion underneath her, but they’re made for your butt to hang over the edges. (It’s the tiny thing with wheels pictured above in the lower right corner.) Anyhow, the Foot Warrior starts the foot spa for me and I’m lovin’ soaking these dawgs in the bubbles. Then came the part where she gives the pedicure… the bitch picked up my foot with both hands, and I. Could not. See her. Like, my foot literally covered her body from the chest to the head. She kept having to lean to the side – out from behind my foot to even make eye contact or talk with me. She was trying to make small talk but was speaking loud as hell because she was struggling to hold my foot up. It was like she was reenacting the scene from The Lion King, where they hold baby Simba in the air, only Simba was lined with lead. HAAAA SAWAYYAA! BIGFOOTAAA! It made me both laugh (inside) and want to throw up in my mouth from the awkwardness of it all.

She’s Shown Here Actual Size

I mean, how in the hell can I have a foot that is half the size of some adult woman’s body length?! That shit is ridiculous! When it came to the leg massage she had to straddle my calves and just beat the front of my legs aimlessly. It was like Mr. Burns, from the Simpsons, was fighting my shins. By the end of the session she was out of breath, with her hair all disheveled and she began drinking water at an alarming rate. As if the bish had just finished running a 10K or some shit. I could tell she was going to tell her family about this and possibly move back to Vietnam for refuge in smaller feet sizes.

Voyage of The Mad Crapper

Voyage of The Mad Crapper

At work, in the men’s bathroom, there are several urinals but only one stall. (I will get to how and why I know this and it does not involve a need for making love in strange places.) Clearly, this plan for one stall in a men’s bathroom came from some woman – because I know dudes love pooping more than girls love shopping and no guy would do this kinda thing to his own kind. Anyhow, I work in a high rise and our bathrooms are part of the building – so anyone can use them if they live in the building, are a client, staff – but mainly the bathrooms on this particular floor are meant for the businesses here.

We noticed recently that a particular male was always en route to the bathroom, newspaper, ipod, iphone, or ipad in-hand. Whenever I saw them en route I thought “Oh, he must be going to a meeting and stopping in to tinkle first,” because I’m a toilet-half-full kind of gal. But then, the more we all paid attention (mainly because it became a popular topic at meetings) we deduced that the dude was practically camping out in the one stall – like countless hours of ipadding, cross-stitching, newspaper reading, doing taxes, etc. (He is an employee at a neighboring business so this is during the average work day.) I pray to gawd he actually did poop during his time at the rabbit hole. If not he’s pooing he’s at high risk to gain hemorrhoids and lose total ass circulation. One guy said he walked in and heard a MLB baseball game being broadcast from the stall, while “The Mad Crapper” was away from his desk. Now that’s a fan! All this to say, the problem was NOT that this fella was livin’ la vida loca in the men’s restroom – it was that if you were having an emergency, “prairie dogging” if you will, and were male- you couldn’t ever get a room at the inn, so to speak.

SO, to help alleviate the anger of the males on the floor I developed this sign, and hung it on the lone stall’s door.

Workin’ 9-5, son!

How to “Break the Ice” 101

A roommate of a friend wanted to start a blog, but thought you had to pay – and that it was really hard to set up. SO, knowing that it was a. fairly easy to set up, b. free in a lot of places, and c. liking to see people live out their dreams, I got the roommate’s number and sent him a text of encouragement. I believe the best way to break the ice is to drop a mullafuggin shock bomb… then introduce yourself. Please note: It’s imperative that you introduce yourself AFTER the shock bomb has been detonated.

Apply this tactic to your life as necessary.

The Most Classiest of Regards,

Miss Nicole Etiquette

(My texts are in green)

“Blast Your Balls Into Superstardom’, is interchangeable with ‘Follow Your Dreams!'” Source: Martha Stewarts Guide to Proper Texting