Memorable Characters I Have Known: Brogan
During the years immediately following my high school graduation, I dabbled in college and worked at a filthy grocery store located within easy walking distance of my parents’ house. It was a ridiculous place, run by crooks and alcoholics, and I was a so-called stocker. Which meant I stocked the shelves, but also did whatever else the red-nosed managers ordered me to do.
We stockers bagged groceries, operated cash registers, collected carts in the parking lot, refilled vending machines, climbed up on the roof to change the sign, ground hamburger, swept the floors, swabbed toilets, built displays, and just about anything else that happens in a grocery store.
A person accustomed to working in a strict union shop would’ve had a stroke in that place. We did it all, whenever the drunks demanded. And received minimum wage, and a daily ration of insults, in return.
Probably because of the constant abuse, the stockers were unusually close. We looked out for each other, and were kinda-sorta friends. At least while we were working. It was one of those “unite or die” situations.
And during the middle part of my tenure there, a new stocker was hired. He was an older guy, probably in his early thirties, and was known only as Brogan. I assume that was his last name, but I’m not completely sure.
For years, we learned, Brogan had worked at the Volkswagen plant across the river, and had been making some unimaginable amount of money. Something like $18.00 an hour, which seemed impossible to us; we each worked full-time, and brought home about $104.00 per week.
He and a few hundred of his coworkers had been laid-off from that plant, and Brogan wasn’t taking it well. The man was in a downward-spiral. He was big and burly, but had massive plum-colored bags under his eyes. He looked like an unmade bed, at all times.
But he fit right in, and we liked him. He told us stories about his wild drunken escapades, and they invariably ended with him having some form of taboo sex with a divorcee in the back of his van. He picked them up in the lounge at Smiley’s, a questionable motel that catered to long-haul truckers.
Most of us were in high school, or recently graduated, and Brogan’s tales were amazing, a huge hit. We’d gather around him, like we were in the presence of Moses himself, and hang on his every word. And he never let us down; he had the storytelling abilities of a seasoned master.
Since he was at Smiley’s Lounge every (every!) night of the week, and had trouble making it to work in the mornings, he started parking his big ol’ Chevy van outside the store. He’d catch a few winks of drunken slumber there, and shortly before he was supposed to punch-in, one of us would walk across the parking lot and bang on the driver’s side window.
A few minutes later Brogan would come dragging in, unshaven, his clothes all messed up, and his hair going in every direction at once. He always looked like hell on those days, and usually smelled like stale liquor and cigarettes. He’d drink three or four outsize tankards of coffee from the deli, and eventually start to reanimate.
Then he’d tell us about the night before…
I think somebody must have questioned the truthfulness of Brogan’s tales of relentless debauchery, because he arrived one morning with a tape recorder. He had us gather around, and hit the play button.
And what we heard was high-tempo squeaking, occasional grunts, and Winston-ravaged moaning. It sounded like a couple of rutting boars in a brass bed. And it went on and on and on…
I couldn’t believe it. We could barely make eye contact with each other. Brogan finally explained that he’d hidden the recorder inside his van, for our benefit. You know, since we’d questioned his honor.
We listened intently, but once we’d heard five minutes of this horrible noise, we got the general idea. Brogan, sensing he was losing his audience, hit the fast forward button, to get to “the good part.”
But he went too far, and when he hit play again we heard the sound of someone pissing, like Niagara Falls. Apparently the pair finished, and Brogan had stepped outside the van for a few moments. What a romantic evening that must’ve been…
Yes, he was a memorable character, for sure. But he didn’t stick around long. The day our store manager told us we’d have to start wearing ties to work, was the beginning of the end.
All of us groaned at this news, but Brogan argued. He also yelled, and used an abundance of profanity, right in the faces of the manager and an assistant, and in front of the other stockers.
They didn’t care for his combativeness and disrespect, and told him he’d either be wearing a tie the next morning, or be unemployed.
So, Brogan showed up the next day wearing a tie — but no shirt. He was stripped to the waist, except for a blue necktie. And he just started working, like it was any other day.
The assistant manager (the same guy from the day before) almost exploded a blood vessel in his neck, and came charging out of the office. He was sputtering belligerence in red-faced outrage, and told Brogan to get out.
The two of them walked outside and we could see the assistant manager yelling and waving his hands around. It was incredible. Brogan was, like, the greatest person ever.
And somehow he wasn’t fired (he was likable as all hell), but the assistant told our hero he’d be spending the day cleaning out “the trash house.”
This was the worst job in the whole store. The trash house was a room on the back of the building, with a door that opened to the parking lot. It was always full of slimy rotting garbage, decomposing heads of cabbage, and all manner of nastiness. The smells that emanated from that thing are unlike any I’ve encountered since.
But Brogan didn’t seem to care. He pulled his van over, cranked some Ted Nugent, and got to work. He was using a snow shovel to remove the filth, and singing along. He was seemingly having a great time, and this irritated management, of course.
One of them finally went out and told him to turn off the music, claiming it was annoying the customers.
And that’s when our shirtless friend overplayed his hand…
Brogan grabbed a sign that had previously been part of a wine display. It was on a stick and looked like a picket sign. He walked to the front of the store, near the main entrance, and started marching up and down the sidewalk chanting, “Higher wages! Better working conditions!” with this wine advertisement over his shoulder.
Every member of management almost went full-Scanners and converged on the guy. And after a few minutes Brogan got into his van, drove away, and we never saw him again.
And you know that Eminen song where he brags, “And it feels so empty without me.” Well, that’s exactly the way we felt. After Brogan disappeared, there was a sizable void in the place. The guy was larger than life, and it felt so empty without him.
I’d love to know where he ended up, but have no idea. I don’t even know his first name, so it would be hard to track him down.
Anyway, Brogan was a memorable character I have known. And I’ll tell you about others in future updates.
If you’d like, please tell us about a memorable character you have known. Use the comments link below.
And have a great day, my friends.
Now playing in the bunker
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Filed under: Daily
Foist!
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Oh No!
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Jeff, you are my Brogan
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Fourth, And I read the update!
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Hey-o!
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Are we supposed to talking about our memorable characters now, too?
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“be” talking…tired, forgive me.
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Jeff, It’s me Brogan. I changed my name when I entered the witness protection plan up here in Canada.
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I would guess so Steph, either that or the last time you were recorded pissin’ outta da van (down by the river).
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There was a nut we hung around with named Don. I won’t clog the page with a bunch of his stories, but I’ll give you two short ones.
We paid him a dollar to swallow a live goldfish at the mall pet store. He was then supposed to run to the bathroom and see if he could puke it up into the toilet. We hoped it would still be alive. He did as he was told but when he gagged himself to puke there was nothing but orange liquid and a few chunks coming out. I was amazed by how quickly the fishy had digested.
Another time, also at the mall, he had this girlfriend named Christy that he was getting sick of. She went into a store and he and I sat on a bench in the middle of the mall. Just then a mall cop came by and Don said, “Watch this. Play along.” He told the mall cop that there was a girl stalking him and that he had a court ordered restraining order on her. When she came out of the store and saw us we started walking away and he told the cop that she was the stalker. She seemed even crazier because she kept yelling our names and running towards us. The mall cop stopped her and we went outside, got in my car, and left. I have no idea what happened to her.
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Are those the myth buster guys on the bunker cam?
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T. Farty – They’re lookalikes.
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Good Afternoon Surf Reporters…..
What a great update! After reading it I felt like I had maybe spent a few drunken nights of high frivolity with Brogan himself.
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Great! So now every time I pass through Dunbar I am going to be mindlessly looking out for Brogan. Man we need a nationwide hunt for Grady type thing here, this guy sounds like a jewel!!!!!
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I think Brogan went on to win the $380 Million dollar powerball.
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Jason, your goldfish story had me doing the dry heaves!
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that was a fantastic story. i wish you could find him it would be great to hear what happened to him. great writing.
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Well it’s kind of hard to top the Brogan story, so I’ll make something up and add it later
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Great update! Best in a while. Almost makes up for the Nancy cancellation.
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Back in the day, when I was growing up (late 60′s/70′s) we all had a little Broganish attitude. And I definitely knew one or two ‘Brogans”. Now, god forbid, if we carry on with the psuedo-rebel, independent, free thinking, demeanor (at least in this corporate bull shit), we’re “titled, tagged, and bagged” for a certain career demise, or living hell in my Dilbert World. There’s way too many consequences these days other than being terminated from a job. Loved the story.
Susan
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The Brogan story is very hard to top.
I worked for KFC as a kid and a couple of my friends worked there also. One guy was bi-polar, but at that time we called them manic-depressives. One evening this guy took off his shirt and drew a huge face on his chest and stomach with his nipples as eyes. He worked for a couple hours that way until the manager came back to the store, took one look and fired him. I can only imagine what the customers thought.
I worked for a time right out of high school at a local plant. At the time I didn’t have a car so for one whole week I rode home with a co-worker. He was the nicest guy in the world but he had a horrible stuttering problem. The ride for me was no more than 4 miles. The first night (Monday) he began telling me a story and it wasn’t until Friday night that he finished it. I almost blew a headpipe trying not to yell out the words I knew he was trying to say.
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Wish we had a delete option here. Or at least and edit.
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reading about Brogan, I’m picturing Lt. Dan Starks from The Good Guys. LOVE HIM!
love the update, too.
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Because I was always transient during my “ahem” formative years, I never had opportunity to cross the bounds into friendship. I did however endure some very colorful characters while ass dragging my way through high school.
One in particular was my friend and brother from another mother George. George was a very spry and likeable guy. Like me, we had these big fluffy afros that seem to never need to be picked. We were the Corsican Brothers of Arlington High School, inseparable knights without a cause but none the less, knights. Together, we had slain dragons, rescued damsels in distress, and cavorted about the campus drunk with royal splendor. We would then sit at the lunch table with other classmates and retell stories of our conquests and feats of honor.
We both had the interest of one beautiful girl named Marie though for different reasons. She was somewhat of a buxom babe and had an infectious and coy smile. What George had over me was these haunting blue eyes which were very uncommon, even for light skinned black guys like us, but enough of that.
Things seem to be going good with the quest for Marie when events seem to go all awry. The buddy-buddy friendship between George and I came to a crashing halt one day when I spotted him and Marie arm in arm headed for the make out spot behind the stadium. I felt like King Arthur when discover he the betrayal of his trusted friend Lancelot and his wife Guinevere. At that moment, all the stories we would swap, tales we would tell would all seem to fade away as if a big eraser had came down from heaven and wiped it from my memory leaving a spot here and there like some long forgotten stray mark upon the chalkboard of my life. Not to worry though, because I had a new interest, Angela. George subsequently married Marie after graduation and I went on to college and the Navy never to hear from him anymore.
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Worked in a ‘show band’ years back and the sax player was leaving. So the word got out and the band leader/ front man (cool, funny as fuck guy) started having guys show up for the gig. I had heard of this guy and met him once and Kerry told me he was comming by. The guy wore holsters/ hooks to carry two trumpets, one on each hip. He’d spin his horns six shooter style and throw them up to his face and play two trumpets at once. He sounded pretty crappy but actually even worse when he only played one at a time. So as the ‘audtion’ goes on he tells Kerry he has epilepsy… Kerry says without batting an eye and a poker straight face…”Ok, fine…we can work that in”. He did not get the gig because his playing sucked.
Another lounge act I played for had a trumpet player with tourettes. He stood nex to me and now and then just as we were getting ready to come in and play…he’d make a quick look up to the ceiling and then snap his head to the right and then back to meet his mouthpiece. That was weird enough but the really creepy thing he’d do was snap his head around to the left, where I was standing, and look behind us like somebody was sneaking up on us from back stage. Took me about a month to ignor that stuff. Nice guy actually.
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I’ve never seen Scanners, so I had to follow that link. Perfect!
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Jeez…so many characters; so little time…..
We have a friend who is the typical old school biker…big, burley, ZZ Top beard, and looks very intimidating but is a teddy bear and would give you the dirty shirt off his back. His wife/significant other, Chrissy, is a very hard, in your face kind of chick. Don’t cross her cause she’ll fuck you up. If she likes you…you’re good to go…if not…stay away.
She invites another friend of ours to their house for dinner to share the pot roast she was making. Well, our friend never shows up, never called to cancel…nothing.
Next thing he knows, he is sitting in his first floor apartment livingroom watching TV. Headlights of a car get closer and closer to the window. Thats when Chrissy gets out of her car and wails the said pot roast through the plate glass window….smashing it to smitherines. It splatters on the wall behind him sitting on the couch and slides down to the floor and he hears, “Enjoy your dinner, mother fucker!!!”
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Jeff, you are a “cleaned-up” version of this Brogan guy.
Now you have a large crowd of folks that ofttimes, for a few minutes each day, get the pleasure of becoming wide-eyed zitster stockers hanging on every word.
We thank you for it!
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I worked at Sears right out of high school and myself and a few of the other guys my age also had alarm clock duty. It was our responsibility to wake up a few of the older guys (older being late 20s) if we opened on Saturday morning. They would go out on Friday night after work and just park and sleep in the lot. They taught us that you could wear the same clothes to work two days in a row without a problem if you just changed your tie and liberally applied cologne before walking into the store. They also both drove Camaros.
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OMG!! I can see this in my mind!! Manager, stock guys and all. Don’t remember Brogran since I worked at the “union” grocery store in town, lol!!!
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Good story Jeff!
The first person that comes to mind is a guy named Art from our town. Art is a ox of a guy, with a full beard, and normally is wasted so I’ve never seen him with both eyes open at once. Back in 2005, I went to a music festival (surprised?), and Art decided it would be a good idea to set up a double air mattress in his tent and cover it with white sheets. Art did not wear shoes the entire festival. He also thought it would be a good idea to use his tax return money (roughly $3000) I believe, for hallucinogenic drugs instead of a car. At this festival, all the stages were scattered throughout a forest and you had to walk trails to get from place to place, at night, they were lit with glowstick balls and various drug induced glowing hippie toys and creations. One day, Art ate a handful of random drugs, and dissapeared, nobody knew his whereabouts the entire day. That night, my girl friend and I were walking to a stage, being guided by the glowstick trails, when suddenly, Art came tearing out of the forest, grabbed the nearest person, which happen to be a tiny man who looked like a lawn gnome in Art’s grips, and he screamed, ‘Shoes!??! WHERE ARE MY SHOES?!?!” Horrified, the little man replied, “Dude…I have no idea” Art threw him aside and yelled, “FUCK SHOES!!!!!” And tore off back into the forest. We went back to the tents later and had people snorting and crying with laughter after telling them what happen. The next morning, Art sticks his head out of the tent with a handful of lunchmeat stuck to his face and says, “I will pay someone $100 bucks if they make me a sandwhich right now.” And he did.
Another time, I was a party with Art, he was wasted, as usual, and begged me and my asshole boyfriend at the time, for a ride home. I reluctantly agreed, as having Art in a small space for any period of time is about as bad as being inside a cage with a gorilla. By the time we got to his house, he was passed out in the backseat, and we had to coax him out. Finally he gets out, and lays in the driveway, as I’m pulling out, he’s tumbling after me. The next morning, we wake up to the front door flying open, Art comes in yelling, “You guys wanna know how I woke up this morning?! A breeze up my pantleg and a car honking at me! Thanks a lot assholes!” He threw a $20 dollar bill at me, says, “Thanks for the ride Courtney!” And left.
Ohh Art…I haven’t talked to him in a few years, but from what I heard he’s exactly the same.
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I forgot to mention that my current boyfriend Ben, ended up having to give Art a ride home from that festival after an unexpected tornado warning, and Art ended up having to wear pink thong sandals with sunflowers on them that were 2 sizes too small that he found on the ground, into a burger king.
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dorothy commented lately?
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Britteny…I like the term…”current boyfriend”.
I introduce Bev as “My current wife”.
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We knew a guy in college that we would call Richard the Basement Troll.
Lived with a guy named Brian who once came up to me and my other room mate (whom I’m sort of dating now) with a corningware dish full of corn and ground beef and he said “look! Corned beef!”.
Fred Friction in St. Louis is quite the character. I was working door at his bar one day, it was slow as hell so I walked down the stairs to signal that I needed some more water and there was Fred standing in the middle of the dance floor with his pants at his ankles and his Fred Friction Dick hanging in the breeze.
Many stories can be told about me. I tend to not remember them.
Also in St. Louis was a chick we called Dirty Debbie. One day my friend One Eyed Mark went over to her house to do some A/C work and Beatle Bob was doing the walk of shame out of her house.
My friend Steve once stormed out of a hotel room after party for his 10 or so yr class reunion telling everyone that they could “eat a bag of dicks” only to sober up and realize he left his camera there and had to go back and get it.
I think all I’ve known is characters.
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If your object is to give people who live in vans a bad name…well so be it. I’ll have you know I have been offering free breast exams and complete physical exams for mere parking meter change for the past seven years. I specialize in the needs of femals because quite honestly…naked guys just look silly.
’78 green Dodge van…discounts when I’m parked under the overpass. Walk-ins welcome.
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dto, I guess I used the term ‘current’ to specify that I am no longer with the previous asshole who I mentioned in my posts lol. Just wanted to clarify.
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Very much enjoyed today’s story. I love his attitude, could use a guy like that around my workplaces.
I have one to share, although I wasn’t there at the time, it made me buckle over with laughter. In mining (where I currently work), there is frequently surprise urine testing (obviously for drugs and alcohol). At a place that I was consulting at, there was a legendery Northern Sasquatch type guy. On the day of the urine testing, the office staff was also required to submit a sample. While the executives were sitting at a board table, the sasquatch type guy comes running past them towards the washroom splashing around a cup of urine.
I guess he had tried to complete the sample test at his desk but the cup started to overflow. Apparently everyone who witnessed this was completely traumatized. I still break up when I think about it.
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Damn Brittney,
I thought you were implying that we all had a shot!
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I’m still working with this guy. He is a firefighter. Thankfully, he is on another shift. Things he has done to date:
1. Built a bomb shelter under his house without telling anyone else in his family.
2. Took a dump on the engine room floor of the fire station whilst staying there after a big night on the town. He also stepped in it and walked it back to his bed then tried to deny it. He got the nickname “Dumper” after this.
3. Admitted to fucking a watermelon when he used to work as a swift water (rapids) tour guide whilst waiting for the crews to meet him downstream.
4. Sent an “expression of interest” letter for a promotion at work to the boss complete with love hearts and flowers written in pen around the border saying he wanted it “for the extra $$$”.
5. Tried to commandeer a car when he got called back into work for a rescue after crashing his motorbike (Honestly, I’m not making this up!)
6. Started the firetruck up, got out without putting the handbreak on and watched it go through the front roller door.
7. Many, many other great things…..
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We knew a guy back in college — Chuck Quinn. The kind of guy you wouldn’t leave alone with your sister or your wallet, but you still consider him a friend … at least to a point. After a while the crazy haircuts (he tried to have his aged barber give him trendy, MTV-inspired do’s), nightmare car (he kept weeks worth of dirty laundry in the back seat and the dashboard was pitted from the drum solos he’d pound out with real drumsticks) and “creative” streak (One Monday morning we found that he’d dragged several pieces of furniture from the student lounge into the college radio station studio over the weekend) proved to be a bit much and we saw less and less of Quinn. As one friend of mine puts it ” I miss him so much I never wanna see him again “
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OMG great post today jeff, loved it. i love all the comments too, hilarious!
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3 more things I thought of that Art did all at the same party.
1) Pulled a newly planted tree out of someone’s yard for ‘firewood’ and put the entire tree standing straigt up in the firepit. (I have pictures of this)
2) Picked up someone else’s puke out of the grass and threw it at the person that puked.
3) Pulled his pants/underwear to to his knees and did cartwheels around the yard…
That was the point that I left this particular party.
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Well I do remember a guy I went to college with named Greg. He was a nice enough guy, actually kind of quiet., but only when he was sober. When he was drunk he would perform acts of ungodly strength that only ended up pissing people off.
There was a total dive bar on campus where you could drink all you wanted for a $3 cover charge. Greg was there, and true to form began by tearing the door off the bathroom. That got him a stern talking-to, but they let him stay. Next he ripped a sink off the bathroom wall and they kicked him out and threatened to call the cops. Me and a friend tried to tell him to just walk away, so he grabbed us both by the shirt and lifted us both over his head. Yes, it really happened – that guy was an ox!
The cops did show up, and I think he spent the night in jail and was released in the morning. They never let him back in the bar, but hey also never put the door back on the bathroom. Funny but it didn’t seem to bother anyone.
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I’ve never understood why drunks like to rip bathroom fixtures off of the walls.
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God help the femals.
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Brogan is an Irish name. That might explain his propensity for alcohol, his insatiable appetite for women, and his hardheaded behavior.
That’s right, I just stereotyped the Irish. But I’m Irish too, so go fuck yourselves. It’s not like it isn’t true. We’re drunks. We’re whores. We’re stubborn. See? I like sterotypes. Wanna hear some more?
Vietnamese people run Nail shops.
Muslims are terrorist.
People in Alabama (where I currently live) fuck their own relatives. It’s not really a bad thing. I have a cousin that’s hot as hell. But then again, I’m Irish so I’d fuck a snake if I could get it to hold still.
French people are cowardly fags.
Asians are shitty drivers.
Mexicans dance around hats and work for shitty pay.
Who did I leave out?
Italians will rip you off whenever they get the chance.
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Brittney,
Your story about Art reminded me of something. I’m big into those survival shows. I like watching Bear Whatshisname eat bugs and drink his own piss. There’s a new show on now that has two guys that survive together. One of them hasn’t worn shoes in 20 years. He walks around in the swamps and so on with naked feet. He calls it his “lifestyle”. It drives me crazy. I think it’s okay for women to show their feet, but not men. Men should never show their feet. I don’t. My wife hasn’t seen my feet – ever. And I have nice feet. But most men have disgusting feet. Their toenails look like Fritos and their toes are all fucked up (pointing the wrong way and so on).
God. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get on a foot rant.
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Jason/Mr. McApple,
I’ve missed your honesty. Good to start the day out with a laugh.
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here i am, chuck.
when we were in high school, there was a little short guy who was always doing stuff to make up for it. (napoleon complex, i think) anyway, one day he stole a bunch of pure sodium from the chem lab. later in the day, the principal came on the p.a. system saying, “whoever blew the toilets apart in the second floor boys’ room, please report to my office.” it was a long time before teachers were able to restore order. that guy was my hero!!
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Not Oprah,
Thanks. It’s always a pleasure to hear from you. I hope you have the best day EVER! And we’d like to see a picture of you. You know, whenever you get the chance.
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i forgot—there was a guy who was as quiet as an oyster unless he was drinking (he was amer. indian) once at a party, he sat quietly in a corner, drinking in silence until about midnight, he suddenly stood up, tore his shirt off, yelled, “SHAZAM!!!” and did a swandive out a second floor window into a buncha bushes. had a broken arm, but otherwise unhurt. go figure.
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dorothy.
I woke up this morning in someone else’s yard. I was wearing business socks and nothing else. Does that count as eccentric?
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Ladies and Gentlemen and Otherwise,
I’m going to bed. I’ve been up all night on FOREX. The US dollar sucks. Peace. Kill the whales. Pave the rainforest. Put a Starbucks in Baghdad. I’m delirious. Love yall.
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Augie Pozjag (pronounced Pojay)
Aug the Hog the shit eating Dog. Once fucked a midget in the parking lot of the bar in the back seat of his chew spit stained Cadilac. He was fucking this midget in the back while holding a baby bottle in her kids mouth in the front. I worked with him in a weld shop right out of high school. New story every Monday.
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for anyone who has a strong stomach, i’m going on vacation in a few days and will post pictures on this site so you can see what a 75 year old wizened up peter pan looks like. or should that be petra?
heh. i said peter.
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Jeff, this is one hell of an update/story! I’m heading to a work meeting, in a condition much like Brogan would be in the morning…will try to comment later on memorable characters.
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Can’t sleep. Goddamn sun. I’d love to see a picture of you dorothy. Do it in a bikini if you can.
I have two goals left on my bucket list. The first is to have sex with an amputee. The second is to have sex with a woman who is 40 years my senior. I’m running out of time on the second one. Before long I’ll be looking for babes that are over 100. And finding a babe over 100 that wants to fuck is hard. Very hard.
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If she was over 100, would you be hard?
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Jason/Farty,
Bear Grylles…and Cody is the guy you are talking about on Dual Survival. I adore him. Dave on the other hand…he cut off an iguana’s head…that made me sad, Dave is on my shit list.
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Jason: My sister had both legs amputated from below the knee down last year due to a surgery gone really bad. She has a great spirit and sense of humor. She says she is very “bendy” now. Although you may have to work a little harder to get the job done…..Any interest? heh
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You know what’s creepier than the Scanners head explosion? It’s the face of the other guy, and it’s the expression I imagine Brogan displayed just before his audio-recorded piss. While you wonder about him, I spend most of my time worrying that creatures from my past will reemerge. Booger from college? Shithead who pissed in the hole on his jeep’s floor? John who bought cocaine from an arcade manager. Lee who I only knew stoned. I’m thinking the Harvard B case study wouldn’t be as interesting.
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bikerchick,
You’re hot in my head, so I’m sure your sister is hot too. No legs to hold up? Sounds like a dream babe to me. Hook us up.
And hot fuzz,
I’ve never had a problem getting it up. I currently have an erection that’s lasted for more than four hours. The hospital told me to stop comming by / calling because they now consider me a braggart.
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I was fortunate enough to work with an assortment of mutants at one place:
- Cindy the temp that thought it would be funny to deploy a stink bomb (an actual sulfur based device – not human produced). I was 2 steps away from evacuating the building and calling 911 because it smelled like a natural gas leak.
- Ryan the fork lift driver that would spread flattened boxes on top of the dumpster so he could sun himself like an Iguana
- Ryan also made himself a sensory deprivation pod out of packing materials. David our VP called it “Ryan’s Maturbatorium”
- Peter the saleshole would would take digital cameras out of stock as customer demos (his customer account didn’t sell cameras mind you) and have a friend return them as “returned no receipt” at a large retailer (where the friend worked) – then he and that friend would take 2 strippers to Vegas for the weekend (several times – last time the two of them has $10k to share).
- Mario the new father of a little baby girl … that would come in early so he could watch his porn in peace and quiet
- Mandy would didn’t believe in bras apparently (ok this one I liked)
- James the other saleshole – I’m surprised his dick didn’t rot off based on all the stories he told – he once said to me “sometimes I get a little worried because if they sleep with me after just meeting, are they doing that with other guys?” hmmm let me think..
- two of the customer service desk ladies were good friends (Lee and Stacy) and both former strippers and both bi… my desk was opposite their area and unless someone walked through – they could see me, I could see them… and no one else. They loved giving me a little show every once in a while un-announced – usually when I was on the phone
- And some CS lady whose name I can’t remember but had some sort of sinus problem and would snork to the back of her throat several times an hour – no warning. She would keep a styrofoam cup on her desk for saliva and phlegm.
Enjoy your lunch on that one.
My current group of co-workers are not nearly as interesting..Since I work from home 4 days a week, it’s just me and the dogs and that’s another topic.
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Wow..you guys certainly know some “memorable”characters. And by memorable, I mean completely fucked up. Good reading..
I immediately thought of “Bucky” from my old part-time at the dry cleaners. Bucky was about 25, but looked 55 and a complete burn out. I would go in the back of the plant and find him with his head inside the dry cleaning machine, inhaling the vapors. Then he would turn around and he looked just like Lloyd Bridges from the movie “Airplane” when he said, ‘Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue”. Predictably, there was always some drama surrounding Bucky, like his girlfriend coming by to try and stab him or the police looking for him while he hid in the dry cleaning racks. Ah, Bucky. I guess you could say he was a huffer, when huffing wasn’t cool.
I’ll bet he’s dead now.
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dorthory…I’d bet you’re more of a Dorthory Lamour sarong kinda gal. Just don’t wear one of those beserkas like icey66 did in his video. If I get someplace cool enough for a pic…I’m going full frontal. Well…I mean you’ll see my face.
I’m headed to Taos again for a few days. Maybe I’ll stop by the pueblo and get my picture taken with some basket weavin’, jewelry makin’ real live injuns.
HOT DAMN!!
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I am reminded of a guy who I knew in High School but he was an adult. His name was Charles and he lived in an old house in a part of Indianapolis downtown that was pretty much abandonded. Big old house. He had a cat on the front porch that he had baked and spray painted silver. he had slices of american cheese stapled to the walls all over his kitchen that had been petrified. He had all kinds of strangeness in the house that was amazingly weird and fascinating.
ONe day went over to his house and he came out of the bathroom laughing his ass off because he had superglued monkey hair under each of his fingernails and it was really long and he was dancing around with these long hairy fingernails and thought it was just a hoot. he really was funny and very weird. i have never met anyone else like him. i think in retrospect he was probably crazy.
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Damn Tilly… And you kept going there?? I understand the attraction of weirdness. It’s the one legal drug of choice my addiction is only suprassed by my devotion. But…damn. How long after the finger nail display did it take for the monkey to show up on the front porch next to the cat?
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I did keep going there. I was not a very smart girl at that time. Just going into that part of town was dangerous.
You see there was no monkey. He just happened to have a bag of monkey hair. Why? I wish I knew.
I wish White Trash Barbie were watching the sight these days she would have more to add I am sure becasue you see even though she and I did equal amounts of drug and alcohol abuse in those years she actually remembers being a teen.
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Tilly says – “i think in retrospect he was probably crazy.”
Really?
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I have a friend who, in his younger years, beached a pontoon boat on a sand bar in the river, dropped a lit cigarette end on his buddy’s garage oily floor and burned it to the ground, did a “hey watch this wheelie” on said friend’s motorcycle and trashed it all to hell, and, one of the first times I was around him at a party with tons of people I’ve never met, he threw his arm around me to plant a fake kiss – he put his hand over my mouth then dipped me – and we both fell to the floor and my dress flew over my head.
That same night he leaned back in his chair but it was a bar stool so he fell against the wall and landed on his ass. Then later, fell down the wooden stairs to the basement, once on the first set, righted himself on the landing, then slid down the second set of stairs. His back looked like someone beat him with a meat tenderizer mallet.
My husband and I would double date with this character and his wife. The fabric headliner of their beat up old car would suddenly loosen and fall and he’d grab his handy dandy staple gun and shoot it back into place. ka-chunk ka-chunk ka-chunk and never miss a beat in his conversation.
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Thanks…I understand now…”He just happened to have a bag of monkey hair”.
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Hey Tilly – this could be your new “known-for” phase – instead of a vagina full of bad decisions… your new one could be “as crazy as a bag of monkey hair”.
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@ Tilly…definintely crazy. But let me just get this right, he baked a cat? Like, he just stuck a live cat in the oven and baked it so he could spray paint it?
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Brittney, you ask as if that’s unusual….
Still laughing to myself like a tard…
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i do not believe he actually killed the cat. i think he found it already dead and decided it could be fun winter time “art” on his porch.
Crazy as a bag of monkey hair could work. I like it.
I remember now that we are talking about it…… we all got high and went to the Howard Johsons to eat burgers on the monkey hair night. he left the monkey hair on the nails and watching him eat was high comedy. I also taught him to cha cha and he thought that was super great. we had a lot of fun together. He was totally unlike anyone else. At the time I thought he was artistic and wonderful but yeah fuzz I think he was crazy. I would love to know what ever became of him
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I get the feeling….if this thread keeps going…t-storm will show up and mention american cheese and a stapler before long.
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thanks for helping pass the afternoon folks. i’m out like a retard in a spelling bee.
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And how do you know it was monkey hair? Did it have a label? Maybe he stole it from locks of love.
My love for you is like a truck, Berserker
Would you like some making fuck, Berserker
My love for you is like a rock, Berserker
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@Tilly – Maybe he and Brogan are hanging out.
@Alice – Sounds like a keeper. Thanks for the laugh.
@Farty – you were naked wearing your socks? Sounds like something Jason would do. Did you get the tip up top on what watermelons can do for you?
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Farty/Jason,
I am Irish and I’m not a whore…but I am stubborn and I do like beer.
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t-storm…That’s beautiful man.
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Brittney, Not Oprah, and TILLY,
One of you need to marry me. I’m in love with all of you. Maybe we can move to Utah and have an extended family? You girls like to share, right? I could commit to twice a week for each of you, that seems fair.
Anyways, yall let me know. I’ll quit my job and start building a log cabin ASAP. We’ll live off the land. Nature and love, that’s all we need. Only thing is I want you girls to keep a bikini wax or shave or whatever. I don’t dig sascrotches. Cool? Cool. Yeah bay-bee!
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If you are stubborn you probably aren’t a whore.
Stubborn whore just doesn’t seem right.
Unless you are whoring out your mule. Stubborn as a mule whore does work.
Just because you are irish doesn’t mean you like beer but it’s the law.
What do they call AA in Dublin? Yeah, they don’t know either.
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Oh, and for those of you who are baseball fans. The Reds first baseman Joey Votto (All Star) is number one in the National League in batting average (7th in both leagues) and home runs (2nd in both leagues), and is 3rd in RBI’s (10th in both). Not bad for a Canadian.
Triple Crown, Baby!
Wooooooooooo! Go Reds!
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I think in Dublin it’s just …A…they really don’t mind telling you their name and they’re not looking for any goddamn advice or support. A good game of darts and some well displayed clevage is the evenings meeting aim. Well..aside from drinking.
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Tilly, if you happen to remember any more Charles stories, I, and I’m sure everyone else, would love to hear them. That stuff was way out of left field, just like I like it!
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t-storm…I’m tired of hearing about Canadians coming down here and taking away American jobs. Just because you can’t make it in your own county playing hockey for a living, it’s no reason to come down here and try to become a “role model” for American youth. Give me a break. The creep probably speaks French too.
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Ain’t no American’s in professional sports, son. Unless you are talking quarterback.
Football is nothing but samoans and criminals (felons can’t vote, americans can vote, therefore felons aren’t americans), Baseball is Dominicans, Cubans, Japanese, and Koreans, Hockey is Canadians, Soccer is the British.
And to quote the late George Carlin:
Lacrosse isn’t a sport, Lacrosse is a faggot college activity. Anytime you are standing in the middle of a field with a stick with a net on the end of it you’re engaged in a faggot college activity.
From the same bit:
Soccer isn’t a sport becasue there’s dots on the ball. That’s a big rule of mine, no God Damn dots on the ball. Another reason soccer isn’t a sport is you can’t use your arms. Tap dancing isn’t a sport. I rest my case.
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Well..at least we had Bobby Fisher.
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Excellent and funny update.
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dto – I just google translated ‘go fuck yourself’ en Francais. but it didn’t play back correctly.
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Not Oprah…like i would have know if it had or hadn’t, but thanks! I’m sure it ends with…”s’il vous plait”.
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The correct French Canadian way to say “go fuck yourself” is “Fuck you Tabernac”. Pretty much anything can be an insult if you follow it with Tabernac. “good morning tabernac” for example
(insert raiinbow, voice over “the more you know” fade to black…
Sports theme – Youtube for Robin Williams talking about Golf. Trust me.
Tilly – of course you taught him to Cha Cha. That would be perfectly obvious. It seemed like such a non sequitur and delivered so perfectly. too funny.
Jason, are saving the 7th day so you can do some “training” for the heavy workload you’ll have on the other 6 days?
I once paid a whore extra to be stubborn.
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T-storm – I have my new pickup line to cruise the Eastern European strippers…
“would you like for some making fuck?”
I agree with dto. .. beautiful
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Ok…got another one for ya…
The bar we hang out at has a row of about 10 rooms, like a little motel. Little disgusting rooms, each with a bathroom, that are rented out to drifters, stragglers and a few permanent residents who do odd jobs around the bar for free rent and draft beer.
One resident in particular has been there for at least 10 years. No shit. Crazy Chris (yep, another Chris). At one time he was known to be a very good mechanic. Here are just a few of his antics:
Sits at the bar and meows like a cat till the bartender throws his ass out.
Makes and wears tin foil hats to “tune in” aliens he says that are trying to communicate to him. Then runs around the bar warning us of impending doom when they arrive.
Puts his cat in a milk crate bungied to his Yamaha bike and rides it around the parking lot.
Told me that my late husband communicated to him from the dead to give me a message that I should have his alien child and we should raise “it” together.
Witnessed him cleaning car brakes with some sort of brake cleaner…WD40 type can… and would alternate spraying the brakes then spray it up his nose.
Walks around the bar and deck serenading everyone with songs he makes up about aliens while playing his guitar.
There was a chick who used to live in one of the rooms too. Every time it rained she would emerge from her room with shaving cream and razor in hand and shave her legs in the rain. It was so common no one paid any attention to her. One of our friends said…”when she starts shavin the beave…let me know”
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Actually hot fuzz…That’s beautiful man” is from the same movie and same scene t-storm was quoating. So I can’t take credit for my response.
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I agree with character in Clerks… beautiful…Tabernac
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I was wondering if anyone else had seen the movie Clerks. Seems kind of like required reading for Surf Reporters.
Thirty Seven!?!?
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I’ve seen Clerks…such a funny/weird movie. Jay and Silent Bob strike back is a good one too.
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Bikerchick
I’m heading to the Strip District on Sunday a.m.
Any pointers? I heard Rowlands is the place for an Oyster sandwich.
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I always liked Mallrats too. It had me at “gerbils”.
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The actor who plays Jay showed up at my son’s college. He had the same goofy face in every picture – he might very well have been one of those life size cardboard cutouts. My son claims “other guys” wanted “Jay” to join him (“I mean them”) for a “smoke”…. good to see my tuition dollars are being put to good use.
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holy over quote use batman “!”
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Son of Sam: …mmmmm…Roland’s….yum! Love that place. I don’t care for oysters but their Lobster Roll sandwich is KILLER! So is their fried fish sandwich and steamed mussels! Best bloody mary’s too. Hopefully you will get there earlier enough to sit outside on the balcony and do some people watching!
You can also go to Wholey’s Fish Market. Fish sandwiches to die for and if you like New England Clam Chowder that’s the place to go!
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Thanks bikerchick
Oyster sangwich for breakfast with a Bloody and Lobster Roll for lunch with a beer.
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I thought Son of Sam was speaking about another kind of oyster sandwich…damn.
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“And how do you know it was monkey hair? Did it have a label?”
Hahaha.
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Jason- I think I will marry you!! I am engaged to another man but he seems to be draggin his feet. and I am not getting any younger. as for sharing well my friend Serena in high school taught me to share. We were hugely popular.
I just asked WTB about more Charles stories and she said “I think he once gave me a folder full of porn, well not exactly porn because there was nothing erotic about it. It was just all sorts of random body parts cut out of magazines. I guess maybe it would be considered erotic if you were a serial killer. Who gives away folders full of picutres of naughty bits anyway?”
So I guess we have established that yes he was in fact insane. she barely knew him.
BIkerchick- I think i totally want to hang out with you and your friends. Sounds like absolutely a blast!!!
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TILLY: Come on down! Would love to have you. But fair warning….you gotta have thick skin to hang with us! No one is off limits. But I have a feeling you can hang with the best of us! We do have some good laughs….at everyone else’s expense!!
Son of Sam: Sounds like a plan! Then afterwards, you should go to Jack’s on the South Side. Cheap drinks, fun atmosphere. Sometimes that’s exactly what we do on a Sunday on our bikes.
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Guess what I just did!?!?!??!
I finally told off the Concerned Employee today! FINALLY!!!!!!!! After putting up with her shit for a year and half I finally told that bitch where to stick it.
I need a beer or 10 right now.
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Brittney. honey you can’t do that. I hope you don’t get in trouble. I just want to tell you though that i have a lady in my office that i want so badly to tell off. I really have to do all i can to refrain. Sometimes I email rant my friends about the things i would like to tell her. Somtimes I fantasize about just letting the old bag have it. but you really cannot do that in real life if you ever want to get ahead. glad you feel better but try not to let it out sweetie……….drink it away at night like the rest of us.
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@Bikerchick…………i’m pretty sure i can take it. i love a good ribbing. i laugh at myself more than anyone else.
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@Tilly, it’s alright, today’s her last day. I didn’t want her to leave knowing she got away with trying to get myself and my co-workers fired so many times.
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Both barrels Britteny. It was her last day anyway. Not that it will change her in least…but hey…I think you took one for the team. Asshats need to be awarded their trud derby now and then and made to wear it for a little while. I’m sure you don’t have “Here’s what I fucking think about you” tourettes or anything. Cheers!
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WELL IF IT WAS HER LAST DAY THEN I AGREE WITH DTO!!!! HATS OFF!!!!!!
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Haha, well ‘CE’ and I have a history here that goes beyond work. Her and I started out here together roughly over a year and half ago, and after her car broke down about 6 months after that, I willingly agreed to drive her to and from work everyday until she could figure something out, for $50 bucks a week, which is reasonable considering I have an SUV and gas prices are rediculous. She lived 15 minutes the opposite direction from me, which was also a half hour from work. Meaning, I had to drive an extra 45 minutes every day, two times a day, to help out a ‘friend’ in need. The Friday after the first week of driving her home, she told me she had to be home by 6. Since my apartment was on the way, I swung by to pick up my boyfriend so we could go out for dinner after dropping her off. I got her home at 5:40…shortly after I get a text message that says, “That fucking bitch just now dropped my ass off”…which was a message mistakingly sent to me instead of her boyfriend. Her reason behind saying that is that “You should have asked me throughout the day if I needed to be home sooner than that. You are inconsiderate”. And that was it for me. Shortly after was when all the ‘concerned employee’ emails started trying to get myself and another co-worker fired, 6 attempts actually. So believe me, this is a huge relief…even my boss said to me yesterday, ‘Don’t worry, the headache will be gone by Monday”.
Good riddance Concerned Employee.
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Way to go Brittney!! I’m having a beer for you tonight!
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SHE SOUNDS LOVELY!!! GOOD FOR YOU!!!! SOME PEOPLE JUST REALLY NEED TO HAVE A GOOD OLE FASHIONED PRISON YARD ASS WHOOPIN.
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i’d rather go 3 rounds with a mixed martial artist than have a woman really pissed at me. just sayin’.
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A hush came over the office when Britteny approched. Her eyes were steeled and there was no way CE was going to get out of this without a throw down. The tension had reached the point that a friend wronged could no longer hold back. Today was the day. And it was going to be somebody’s last day.
Everyone could see Brittney carried her head high and her pair of 38s a little higher and prouder than most days. Her stride was confident and her ass looked fantastic…
“Ok…cut…hold it. What the hell are you doing?”
“I don’t know man…I was in the moment and it just got away from me I guess.”
“Have you ever met Brittney. The fuck man?”
“No…but you know…I just thought…”
“Shut up!…Ok lunch everybody. Be back by three.”
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Chuck in Belpre – do you know any mixed martial artists because there is a woman pissed at me and I want to do a comparison though, I think I may prefer the 3 rounds. At least it will be over quickly.
Tilly – are you sure we haven’t met before? I managed an apartment building on 21st and Delaware from 88 to 91. That sounds like the same guy that stole my BBQ grill.
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I’m not happy with that first line in the second paragraph of the script…
probably is better written…
like it matters…”Oh script girl”…he called out to an empty set.
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“and she was packin’ her pair of 38s just like everyday” insted of ” and her pair of….”
Cheers again.
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Excuse me, director? I’m the business agent for the script writers and the talent it is explicit in our contract that we be on time for happy hour on Fridays.
So unless you want us to picket on Monday you will let us go to the bar immediately. You are welcome to join us, but no talking.
Britney you did well today.
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Oh, does anyone else picture CE as a roseanne barr type, or mrs poole?
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Haha, think more of a scary looking elf…very very short hair, not styled, no make up, huge chicklet teeth, awkward outfits (diamond print sweaters, white washed 80′s jeans that go up to the rib cage, construction boots)…she’s just a beast. My co-worker/friend wore an outfit in honor of her today, a diamond print sweater, jeans and construction boots. I’m still laughing about it.
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Brittney: Wotta ungrateful fucking ho-bag. You shoulda lumped her ass up. Some people are natural jack-off’s
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Wow b that description made me cream my jeans. I guess now they’re whitewashed
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t-storm…
“Dude…Friday? Happy hour? I mean …fuck! Why didn’t somebody say someting? They ain’t coming back at three are they? They think I’m an asshole don’t they? Damn man. Can you call them all and tell them I’ll just see them Monday. Thanks…I got a lot of re-write to do. I’m starting to like that “fantastic ass” scene the more I think about it. “
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Britteny…I’m guessing she goes either way. No…not that…she either stinks or wears too much choke ass perfume. Maybe she just smells like Dial soap. Or like those little bars of soap you get in cheap motels. Aw crap…now I’m guessing what this troll smells like. Her teeth are probably Cheese Dorito stained too.
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Shiny Rod – That was my point. With the MMA fighter it’s over in a flash and joints can be snapped back into place. A pissed off woman can carry a grudge around for decades like they are saving it for a spot on Antiques Roadshow.
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Hey Jeff…For some reason I just re-read your post. Great writting of a great story. Just thought I needed to say that…dunno?
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dto is now my favorite Surf Reporter!! Let’s pick up with the fantastic ass scene again…
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“Everyone could see Brittney carried her head high and her pair of 38s a little higher and prouder than most days. Her stride was confident and her ass looked fantastic…”
That’s approaching “Smells like a vagina full of bad decisions” territory. Wow, just fuckin’ wow. Awesome.
Jeff, this was a really, really great post. Your storytelling is kick-ass, I’m salivating for the book.
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Yum 38s
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Ok…I’ll jump in again…Uncle_Wedgie…you might have come up with the name for a new candy…”YUM 38s”.
The name is innocous and unassuming. Nobody would have a clue as to where the name comes from . In the movie, “Amadeus”, Salieri offrers Mozart’s wife a candy called “Nipples of Venus”…so I see no problem with…”YUM 38s”
(Available in milk, white and dark chocolate)
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Guess what…I conquered my fear today…I went on the scariest roller coasted at Six Flags. I almost cried, but I did it.
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coaster*
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Brittney – big weekend for you, right? YAY!!! Still feeling good about it? I have to admit, I’m just a wee bit jealous of you getting to tell off CE. I’ve been fantasizing lately about doing the same thing to my own version of CE. I’m trying to hold back and just let it go.
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I wouldn’t have, but she quit, thank God. It was time. I did have a good weekend, she quit, I got over a fear, and now I’m finishing up my weekend with Stooge-a-Palooza and a few beers. I hope everyone had/is still having a good weekend too:)
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Brittney, glad you did your Friday thing, glad you did your Saturday thing, and hope you have a good Sunday thing planned! Let us know. We’re all behind you!
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As long as I don’t puke I think I can count today as a success. I remember getting drunk when I was younger. The room always seemed to spin. I haven’t had that sensation in years. Maybe I’m already dead but nobody has the heart to tell me?
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I was hoping Dorothy would post… She used to tell us some great stories from “the old days”. She’s got many many more. As for me… I knew a few interesting characters:
One guy puked into a beer can without spilling anything.
Another (in 8th grade) made a dandelion chain from dandelions he grabbed through the window and wore it around his neck, then put a rubber band around his thumb about a hundred times and showed it to the teacher and said he wasn’t sure what the problem was but he needed to go to the nurse IMMEDIATELY!
In my 20s I worked with an ex professional wrestle. He was pretty interesting, but the stories of his were frickin’ great… even non-wrestling ones.
ooh! My buddy’s dad (RIP) was awesome. He was a half deaf trucker and called himself “Rotten Ron”. Very nice and funny guy but just to see him, he was kind of scary. Used to “celebrate” when an R rated movie would start and they’d show the rating, he’d say R stood for “Righteous” and “Rotten Ron”! He called his son Chucker because he get loads of wood delivered and make his son “chuck the wood” into the basement. Once he was working on his truck and started screaming bloody murder for his son “Chucker!!! Help! Get up here! Hurry up. CHUCKER!!!!” All the near by neighbors came running thinking an engine fell on him or something… nope, he just wanted a wrench and didn’t want to get out from under the truck.
One more. Probably mid to late teens, a friend rolled his brothers car and went home and started trying to fix it before his brother got home later that night. The brother got home and caught him sanding it like a champ and laughed so hard he didn’t even try to kick his ass or anything.
There have been many, many others. I bet half of the really scary ones are either in prison or a mental hospital… I’ll have to mention this to some of my friends to get good reminders of others. I think western PA had some very, very interesting people in the 80s.
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Forgot to mention; each of those stories were just a typical thing from those people. They were all constantly doing similar things, just the first example that came to mind for each. Well a little extra for Rotten Ron just because.
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Gretchen and other beer guzzlers…
The “End of History” didn’t last as long as you’d expect an end of history to last.
http://www.aolnews.com/surge-desk/article/start-the-future-t-koelschip-tops-brewdog-as-maker-of-worlds-strongest-beer/19575551
jtb
OB12
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Brittney…
Just some advice from a long-time, burnt-out, recovering manager: Ask for the raise AFTER you become indispensable, not before.
Unless you believe you don’t have the strokes to become indispensable. In that case, before works fine.
Just trying to assist you in dealing with the damnable barristers.
jtb
OB12
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Not brave enough to comment with your real name? What’s the intertubes coming to? =8^-)
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I’m technically due for a review in August in anyway, I figured if he was going to have me do the job of three, I’d put in a request to consider a little extra then the norm when that time comes for all the extra stress I’m going to endure. I think I’m beyond the point of having to prove myself there.
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