Crazy bastards you work with

Mr. Buzzcut wants him to say hi to somebody named Gene.

 

Ugh, like the Victorian era, when they wore those damned powder wigs because their hair was so dirty? And just kept dumping powder on top of themselves to quell the stench?
Blech ...

 

There's a dude in my place who leaves a cloud behind when he gets off the elevator.

It hangs there for like 15 minutes afterward.

Nasty.

 

I just threw up in my mouth.

 

Exactly. Between the horrifying personal hygiene standards and the lack of sewers, running water, animals and lack of trash removal, I can't understand how people weren't just dropping dead from the stench. Or maybe that helps account for the short life expectancy.

 

And yet historical romances set in those eras are so hot!


DISCLAIMER: I haven't read one since I was 15.

 

At the risk of outing myself....
The truly great thing about television (and there's really only one) is the nutjobs.  I've been blessed.

Once I worked with a photographer who did mainly news.  He was an intense, scary dude and was so burned out from the highway fatalities and the perp walks that at some point he decided to put his own, personal artistic mark on every piece he shot and edited.  It was his way of coping.

And that mark was to work a small gnome into every story.

If it was video of a body bag, you'd see the gnome top right corner of the frame, as if it were watching over the crime scene.  If a politician was being interviewed in his office, the gnome would be placed as a doo-dad on his desk.  Election night?  The gnome was soft-focused sitting on the dais in the background of a reporter's stand-up.

I've got a million more characters, but this guy was one of my favorites for sheer nuttiness.

 

I bet Mr. Darcy stank.

 

I love the fact a person that chose the handle "Unibomber" started a thread about the crazy bastards he works with.  


This isn't a guy I work with....but certainly a nutjob.  Last night I'm with my pal driving to his house.  I'm driving about 30 mph approaching an intersection and I have a green light....this guy about 6'6" 90 lbs wearing a ski hat, long black trench coat and white surgical gloves doesn't break stride and walks right in front of me.  I slam on the breaks and beep my horn, he stops and just stares at us.......for about 10 seconds and then the light turns red.  He looks back and see's the lights red.....starts running towards us, "GET OF THE FUCKIN' INTERSECTION ASSHOLE, YOU'RE FUCKIN' BLOCKING TRAFFIC!!!!!"  

I sped off, looked and my friend and we both agreed that man would kill someone within a week.  He was the type of guy that would have put 2 in our foreheads, and the next day his neighbors would be on the news saying...."he was always odd, it really doesn't surprise me he killed 2 random people".....and "he killed our dog last year because it pee'd on his lawn...and he told us we were lucky he didn't eat it".

 

Our slot guy jerks off in the bathroom at least once a week.

 

You all should read Basket Case by Carl Hiassen. All the usual suspects are in that novel.

 

I just have to know ... How,praytell, do you know this? Is he loud and boisterous about it? Has he been outed somehow? Does he readily admit it??
HOOOOOWWW??