I like to think I’m a pretty ‘upbeat’ sort of guy at work. Certainly, there are annoyances at my office — not to mention complications, technical difficulties, seemingly endless meetings, sudden emergencies, unexpected problems, and a urinal handle that doesn’t flush if you don’t jiggle it just right — but I try not to let it get to me. I try to be positive. Cheerful. And mostly, in denial of the shit-tsunami that’s usually surging it’s way down the hall towards me.
Listening to music in the car on the way to work helps. If I’m in a determined sort of mood, I might play some driving techno stuff — Chemical Brothers, maybe, or the Propellerheads. If I need a pick-me-up, then maybe it’s edgy rock, like Smashing Pumpkins or Foo Fighters. And if I’m feeling a little down or tired, I’ll pop in something jangly I can sing along with — Blind Melon is good for that; so is Dave Matthews. And, as I was crooning along with today, so are the Refreshments.
(Yes, I was singing in my car. Yes, often at the top of my lungs. And yes, I’m a sappy damned douchebag. But that’s not the point this time. If you want to laugh at me for belting out tunes in the car, you’ll have to go back to this post from last year to do it. Today, we’re laughing at me for another dumbass thing. Do try and keep up now.)
So, I made it to work. The last song I was howling along to was ‘Mexico‘, off the Fizzy Fuzzy Big & Buzzy CD. (Cool tunes, catchy hooks, nearly-naked cartoon chick on the cover. Good times!) So the lyrics were still running through my head when I made it into the building, and to my first meeting of the day.
At this point, I should probably mention that I’m one of those people who’ll suddenly — though in my case fairly quietly, due to my off-key warble — break into song, with no obvious provocation. I’m pretty sure I picked it up from my dad — he’s got this weird, and apparently contagious, habit of singing about what he’s doing, or what someone just said to him. I don’t know where the hell he got it from, but he’s passed the insanity down to me, and now I’m stuck with it. So I sometimes have ‘conversations’ like this:
Wife: ‘Honey, can you take out the trash?’
Me: (singing) ‘Takin’ out the trrrrrash…. Ooh, I’m a-takin’ out the trash… Yes, it’s — Garbage Day! Ooh, baby, Gar-bage Day! Hey hey!’
Wife: ‘You’re an idiot, you know that?’
And then, while I’m carrying the garbage out, she locks me out of the house. Yes, the lady’s quite the kidder. Ha mo-fucking ha.
Anyway, there’s that. There’s also the whole ‘humming a song in my head and then realizing that I’m actually singing it, out loud, with other humans within hearing distance‘ thing, which — believe it or not — can be even worse.
Which gets us back to this morning. Let’s recap — Mexico running through my head. Me in a good mood. And an hour-long meeting with bosses and co-workers and such just about to get under way. I’ve just skipped into the conference room and found a seat, while people pile in around me. I’m singing to myself, in my head, until I get to the bit just before the chorus, when I absentmindedly let a couple of bars slip out. In case you’re not familiar with the song in question (and here are the lyrics, in case you want to play along at home), here’s what the folks in my immediate vicinity heard:
‘*hum* *hum* *hum-a-hum-a-hum*…
Got off in the wrong direction —
Found a hooker and lost my erection,
So I had to lie, in the letter…‘
I think it was right around ‘I had to lie‘ that I noticed the people staring at me. It took a couple of more words in the verse to put two and two together — I’d just launched into song at the worst possible point in this little ditty, and got flat busted by at least two — no, wait, that girl over there’s not looking, but her face is really red, so at least three — oops, hold on, the guy across the table is deliberately avoiding my eyes… eh, but most people in the office end up doing that, so maybe it’s just coincidence — so, busted by at least three people who just heard me spontaneously spout something about a ‘hooker’ and ‘lost my erection’ in the lull just before the start of the weekly group meeting. Out-fucking-standing. Oh, the wonders this will do for my rep with these people. Goody to the max.
So, that was how my morning started today. I think I recovered pretty well — I looked around, wide-eyed, like a shaved gerbil at a K-Y convention, and then muttered, ‘Aw, shit!‘ and pretended to study the meeting agenda in front of me. Smooth, yes? Oh yeah — cool like the other side of the pillow. That’s right.
And now, I’m just waiting for the bullsit to start. ‘Hey, Charlie, picked up any hookers lately?‘ Or, ‘Yo, Erection Boy — how’s it hanging?‘ And probably, ‘You know, dude, it’s okay — there are pills for people like you.‘
The worst part is, this snarky crap will only go on until I pull the next cluetarded brainfart move, and catch hell for that, instead. And the circle of life goes on.
Meanwhile, I’m gonna start listening to NPR in the damned car. Sure, it’s about as exciting as giving a teamster a Brazilian backwax… but at least there are no lyrics to lodge themselves in my brain and get me in trouble later. I can pretty well guarantee you that the words ‘hooker’ and ‘erection’ have never been uttered together in the same sentence on public radio before. Hell, maybe not even separately. Those guys have no damned fun at all. Perfect for those morning meetings. I’m sold.Permalink | 2 Comments